Hope you've enjoyed the journey so far.

Next and final chapter will be a short one, so stay tuned!

This run, he decided not to rush things.

Flowey knew that Alphys would keep her cameras perched in secret places around the Underground, which he had always avoided well. Sans didn't have anything like that, as far as he knew. But then, anything was possible with that freak. He seemed to know Flowey without truly knowing, seemed to track him well without the need for video feed. At the very least, Sans never seemed to appear at his very first SAVE point, before any of the days would pass. It was probably the only safe space he had, and he'd had enough.

Flowey still hadn't managed to break into that basement either, another secret locked away from him. What a mistake. You shouldn't keep secrets from a god.

He was slow and methodical in his journey. He wriggled through the dirt, waiting for that mess of a king to come out and water the flowers in the garden for hours at a time. He came up behind him, his pellets winking into existence, then aimed them at Asgore, who had never known what hit him. With his soul floating through the air, Flowey destroyed that as well, satisfied at the sound of it breaking.

He traveled through New Home, killing each and every monster he came across. Some had made themselves comfortable in his house. Some even slept in their room. It was only right to get rid of them. They were trespassing, and it was bad luck to trespass into a house whose first occupants were already dead.

He traveled through the Core, not at all fascinated by the play of neon lights and complicated machinery. He killed every monster he came across here, some hiding in single rooms, others hanging out by garbage cans. He felt like there was something else he should know, but every time he tried to remember, static would fizz around his vision. He blinked, and the world would break apart, like a bad television reception. Objects stretched, lost color, and would only leave him with an echo of a whisper. He didn't like the feeling, and hurried off, breaking apart the tiled floor as he burrowed under.

He traveled through Hotland, the heat from the lava wilting his delicate petals. He extinguished monsters of fire, and watched contentedly as Tsunderplanes exploded in midair. He avoided the conveyor belts, suffered the vents when no ground was available for him to cross, and made it to the lab where that dinosaur nerd was sweating over a mess of machine parts on a table, looking vaguely human-like. To the tune of a television set in the background that played catching melodies alongside the metallic hum of some overdramatic rectangle, Flowey had squeezed the life out of Alphys, snapping bones, crafting dust from the waste. He had killed all of the amalgamates, too, knowing that what he did could only be considered a kindness.

He traveled through Waterfall, ignoring the jewels twinkling from their place in the cavern walls. Voices from echo flowers drifted past him, both young and old, both hopeful and lost. He was disgusted. What use was there in wishing upon a bunch of rocks when the real stars were outside this prison? That was not how things worked, but monsters were notoriously stupid and naïve. It was just one of the reasons why they got trapped in the Underground in the first place. Flowey took out his anger at those in his way, such as that old fool, Gerson, who should have died long ago, and that monster kid, who couldn't understand the concept of danger until it was staring at him in the face and was saying, "Yes, I'm going to kill you, and no, I'm not your friend." He regretted not being able to kill that depressing ghost, but made up for it by killing Undyne, snapping apart her spears, hearing her make the angriest fish noises that one ever heard before she melted away. She didn't make things easy for him. On other timelines, he would have found that invigorating, liking a little challenge before he did away with her, too. How satisfying it would be, fighting someone who didn't dodge from his attacks like nothing. But he wasn't in the mood, and struck her down to the floor with great distaste.

Determination wasn't for the weak.

With his numbers higher than they've ever been, he traveled through Snowdin, passing by the skeleton brothers' house. He didn't bother breaking in. He knew their schedules (or at least, one of their schedules) and that they wouldn't be home right now. He made due with massacring each painfully unfunny Snowdrake, or each ugly as sin Gyftrot. Most of those in town hadn't gotten away in time, so Flowey, cheerful and helpful flower that he was, bestowed unto them his friendliness pellets, picked them up with his vines until dusty powder coated him like a fine sheet of snowflakes.

In one of Snowdin's many snowy fields, a figure appeared to him from a distance. Papyrus was here, hands on his hips, the red scarf (or a cape that was just too small for him) of his battle body wavering dramatically in the breeze. Yes, at the very least, one of these skeletons never broke routine.

"HALT RIGHT THERE! FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM WITHIN YOUR LINE OF SIGHT."

Flowey could definitely see that. He smiled widely, enough to ache the pollen center of his face. "Howdy, Great Papyrus! I'm Flowey! Flowey the flower! I was hoping to find you here!"

"EVERYONE HOPES TO FIND THE GREAT PAPYRUS, NO MATTER WHERE THEY ARE." The skeleton swiftly pointed at the flower, making sure to pose as dramatically as he could. He nearly cracked a rib bone while doing so. "I ALSO HAVE A HOPE AS WELL. ABOUT YOU. AND ME, TOO. BUT MOSTLY YOU RIGHT NOW."

"Oh, gosh, is that so? And what do you hope for me then?" Flowey lowered his voice just a fraction, satisfied to see the skeleton tremble slightly at the tone. But dear Papyrus sure loved acting the brave and daring hero. Flowey knew he wouldn't run.

"I HOPE A GREAT MANY THINGS FOR YOU. THAT YOU, MY DEAR FLOWEY, WILL MEET UP TO MY AMAZING STANDARDS."

"Yeah, I can make all kinds of spaghetti."

"OH?! THAT IS-! BUT, UM," Papyrus flustered, his pose wilting just a tad. But he persevered, keeping his bony finger pointed at the plant. "I MEAN DIFFERENT STANDARDS, THOUGH THAT IS A VERY GOOD START. I'VE HEARD WHAT THE OTHERS TOLD ME, ABOUT THE TERRIBLE PATH YOU HAVE CHOSEN. YOU SPEAK SO BRIGHTLY, BUT…" And here, Papyrus grew more nervous, beads of sweat dripping down his skull, despite his lack of pores. "IT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE YOU ARE VERY HAPPY, AREN'T YOU?"

Flowey twitched.

"AND THAT'S OKAY. AND ALSO NOT, BECAUSE YOU NOT BEING HAPPY IS MAKING YOU HURT EVERYONE. WHICH IS VERY BAD. SO, NOT OKAY AT ALL." Papyrus then spread out his arms in a welcoming embrace. "BUT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CAN HELP YOU. I CAN TEACH YOU THE WAYS OF HAPPINESS, BY BEING YOUR FRIEND. SEE? ISN'T THAT LUCKY OF YOU?"

Flowey had never been lucky in his entire life.

"YOU WILL HAVE TO MAKE UP FOR WHAT YOU DID, BUT I WILL HELP YOU GET THROUGH THIS. WE CAN HAVE SLEEPOVERS, PUZZLE SHENANIGANS, AND SPAGHETTI WITH OUR SLEEPOVERS AND PUZZLE SHENANIGANS. A SPAGHETIGANSOVER! YES, THAT WORD I JUST SAID."

"I don't want it," Flowey finally spoke, any hints of brightness fading to nothingness. "I just want to kill you."

Papyrus was now shaking, but he still kept his arms wide open. He could be a tough monster if he was ruthless enough, or had a taste for some measure of violence like Undyne. But it didn't matter. He lacked the will, and it made him a thin, jagged and fragile monster in turn, despite his usual tough defenses. Because of his desperation for friends, it also made him easy to toy with. In all the other runs, Flowey had simply torn him apart, so amused by his death, so amused that someone who could have been something, was still weak after all.

Despite his numerous chances, Flowey didn't strike Papyrus down just yet. He had never taken this long with him before.

"N-NOW JUST WAIT A MOMENT. THOSE ARE THE WORDS OF A QUITTER. Y-YOU MUST STRIVE TO BE LIKE ME, THE G-GREAT PAPYRUS. YOU MUST REMEMBER THAT FRIENDS, LIKE ME, WILL… WILL ALWAYS BE HERE TO HELP YOU. AND MAYBE SANS, WHO-WHO WON'T DO MUCH, BUT THAT'S FINE."

Papyrus walked closer, even going so far as to go down on his knees to meet the Flower face to face. His arms were open, still, even to the very end.

"LET'S GO ON A CAMPING TRIP AND GET SOME LIGHT INTO THOSE PETALS OF YOURS. HOTLAND HAS PLENTY OF THAT. DO YOU LIKE THAT IDEA? I CAME UP WITH IT MYSELF! NYEH HEH HEH… HEH…"

Flowey's face was a painting of black and gray, cutting deep into him, highlighting the emptiness of his eyes, and the sharpness of his fanged mouth.

"You idiot. Don't you know we don't get any sunshine down here?"

Vines shot forth from the ground, gripping Papyrus by the limbs. They punctured through his ribs, circled around his neck. His red scarf was ripped from his back. He was dust before he could do a thing.

For several minutes, he treasured the silence. Then he grew to hate it. He went to the next area.

At the sentry station that stood outside the pathway to the Ruins, he didn't find Sans. Just an illegal treasure trove of half-empty ketchup bottles behind the counter, their caps already crusting over. Flowey waited in that open area, eyes peering at snow lumps and a conveniently shaped lamp that he knew Sans had once found in the garbage dump.

He waited for someone to show up. But nobody came.

So he moved on.

He left his mother last for a reason.

Flowey usually hesitated with her. After countless resets, he would give up on the king completely, rushing to the Ruins to be with her, despite knowing how it would all end up. Her voice, her constant baking of pies, and even the sight of her smile, were echoes of something that he had once felt. With Asgore, he stayed for weeks. With Toriel, for months, nearly a year or more. She'd read him snail facts, bake him snail pies (and some that were not), cradle his petals as if they were the long, floppy ears he used to have. She would cry for him, too, lamenting the fact that her son's form was lost, but also joyful that at least, he was still here, promising that he would never be alone again.

But still, after all that, he never felt anything. So he killed her. Once, twice, dozens of times. He barely felt anything then either.

He wanted to make sure, just once more. He wanted to give his mother another chance at making him feel like there was not just a void inside him. Or did he really? Maybe he just wanted to yell at her. Maybe he just wanted to see her suffer. Maybe he didn't want her to change him at all.

He might as well finish what he started.

"Mom!" he shouted, wriggling around the house, sifting through the cracks of the floorboards. From the basement, he headed straight for the living room, where she always was. He imagined her sitting in her armchair, glasses perched on her face, the cozy fireplace giving the home a pleasant heat. "Mom! It's me!" He popped out, face transforming into that expression of a long-lost child, complete with white muzzle and weak eyes. "It's Asri-"

There was a grinning skeleton sitting in her chair.

"heya."

Flowey felt every sense of him still, unable to even understand the skeleton winking at him, holding up a glass half-full of what looked like milk. He was leaning his cheek against a bony fist, propped up by the chair's arm rest.

"you've been busy, huh?"

"I've- " Flowey's throat closed. He noticed then the fireplace was out, and that there was no faint scent of snail pie cooling off in the kitchen. He shook his petals so violently that they threatened to fall off his head. "No, you're not supposed to be here!" Not again. Not again. He can't be doing this again!

"sorry. didn't get that memo." Sans balanced his glass on the large armrest, then stood up, hands digging into the pockets of his coat. "but let's try to work with it."

He didn't have his hood on this time. The paleness of his skull stood out so brightly against the warm, almost autumn-like colors of the room. The place was cold and deserted. San's pupils flared slightly, so subtle in its brightness, enough for Flowey to feel drawn. He knew it would be a mistake to blink even once.

"Where is she? What did you do?!"

"out." Sans gestured to himself with a pointed thumb. "just got me here, bud."

"I can see that!" He wanted desperately to look through the rooms. Maybe she was penning down events in her journal, or dusting off his old toys in their chest. "Tell me where the hell she is, Sans!"

No surprise at the knowledge of his name, no shock, no anger. Nothing. Just the same aggravating smile.

"you didn't ask nicely."

Both kept still, with no hint of a sound breaking their self-imposed silence. Flowey slithered his roots underneath, aiming them towards Sans' feet. But he didn't like what he saw, this air of 'been there, done that' that was made all the more bewildering as the skeleton assessed him like a new creature that had never before been discovered. It was the same look he had given him from the last timeline, seated in the snow, holding a gift that should not have existed.

Flowey turned, rushing towards the bedroom corridor. "Mom!"

A projectile flew past him, exploding the wall to his right. Barely missed. The thrown bone dematerialized instantly, leaving only a hole that opened out into the front yard.

"not gonna stay for a chat?"

He kept going, seeing the skeleton out of the corner of his eyes just standing there, hands in his pockets. He turned away, and a familiar heat engulfed his back. He dodged to the right just in time, the blast of light and energy setting the corridor into a charred mess.

I'm going to lose to him again?!

Well, couldn't lose to him if he wasn't there, right?

Flowey tried to burrow back underneath, but was immediately pulled back up, like a troublesome weed that didn't know its place. Roots dangled beneath him.

"Let go of me! Let go!"

"k'."

He was thrown through the hole in the wall, thrown so far that he flattened right against that dark, leafless tree. He slid down, the flower falling with the red, crinkling leaves.

Staring up, he blinked. Sans was there in an instant.

Flowey righted himself up. He couldn't control his shivering. "You're making a mistake," he said desperately.

A slippered foot stepped onto the leaf pile. The sound of the crackling, dry leaf was as sharp as glass. "wouldn't be the first time. i'm good."

"Stop acting like that! You don't think… you don't think I get what you're trying to do? Acting all cool when you're just another stupid idiot like the rest?" His eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a hiss. "Stop messing with me! You don't have that right! This world is kill or be killed. But I'll kill you first, and then go after her. You can't hide her from me, you can't-!"

Flowey stopped. He looked once again at the house, always so warm, with the armchair that was never empty for very long, with the heat of fire magic felt in the air. He realized then, and the very thought of it made him laugh, a sick and twisted sound that came out of his mouth. He watched as Sans stared at him, not doing anything.

"Why did you bother anyway?"

"come again?"

Flowey kept cackling, unable to stop. "So you decided to do something for once. You decided to save some lady behind the door, whom you've never met, and only shared all those terrible, stupid jokes with. You saved her, but not your precious bonehead of a brother?"

Sans didn't react. He didn't say anything at all.

The flower curled back makeshift fangs in his face, as if they'd been drawn in with a pencil, ready to shift or erase whenever he wanted. "You're just as messed up as I am."

He laughed again, the sound bouncing off the stones.

The front yard that they both stood in was colder than it usually was. Yet through the chill, there were the piles of red leaves, some crowded near the tree's base, some shoved off into corners. There were always red leaves, always red, and never anything else. On those first few tries when he attempted to feel, he'd watch as Toriel would huff out a breath of fire, the magic catching onto those dry leaves, igniting them immediately, crimson engulfed by flame. It was more efficient than simply raking them to a corner, and the draft that would come through the Ruins' corridors would blow away the smoke. She used fire magic for so many things; yardwork, heating pot kettles, setting up the fireplace. Never against Flowey though. Never against the creature she would know to be her son.

Those leaves drifted across the stonework, brushing up against the twisted, black tree. Sans didn't shift when a tumbling leaf would cross over his foot, or catch onto the hem of his jacket. He had his smile on, his pupils piercing through the depths of his eye sockets.

Flowey got impatient. His fanged mouth downturned to a frown. "Well!? Don't you have anything to say?"

That had been enough to make Sans laugh in turn. Not as loud, not as long, but there.

"kid, if you're trying to rattle my bones… well." He shrugged. "you already did so plenty before. you'd remember that better than me."

Flowey was going to lose his god-damned mind. Why did this comedian never act the way he was supposed to?

Sans casually leaned his head back, staring at the fragmented ceiling above. But the flower wasn't fooled. Even when those eye sockets darkened, like twin pits of tar in a white wasteland, they never left him.

"took a lookie at my notes, and, i dunno, i guess you kinda ticked me off in one of your little resets. you remember, i bet."

Flowey didn't need to be reminded. "Is that how you say hello now to people? Blasting them to bits?"

"maybe i should." Sans tilted his head forward again. His left blue eye winked to life, traces of yellow swirling its depths. "but then, seeing as we're still here, i can see how little good that did. and after all this is done, you'll just start over anyway. everyone here, with no memory of what came before. including me." Softer. "no matter what i do."

"Then… then why bother?!" Flowey asked again. He was tempted to smash his head against the tree.

"i can't begin to tell ya, bud, what makes me keep trying." His grin widened. "maybe it's just for the look on your face."

"But you won't remember! You just said so!"

"hey, don't make light of my drawing skills. i worked hard on them." He lifted one hand that was coated in blue. "Papyrus liked my flower sketches plenty."

Another grip. He lifted Flowey off the ground, pushing him to the right. The plant flew far, skidding on the ground so hard that a gouge was made in the rocky stone.

Not dead yet. His HP was high, along with his LOVE, and he wasn't caught off guard completely this time. Flowey pushed himself back up on shaking leaves, Sans' shadow already over him.

"Then I won't reset then!" Flowey bluffed. "No matter what happens! If you kill me, this timeline is set! You'll be alone, everyone will stay dead, and it will be all your fault!"

"kid."

Sans flicked a finger towards him. He was sent flying backwards again.

"don't get my hopes up."

Then whiplashed straight into the ground.

"i know at some point the timelines are going to end."

Flowey tried getting up again. A ring of bones unearthed around him, missing him by fractions of an inch.

"and that soon there won't be anything left."

He remained still, watching Sans move closer to him somehow without seeing it. As if he had always been just a few feet away.

"but you don't actually want things to end, do ya?"

For the first time, there was a hard edge to Sans' tone. A sharp thing that tore through his hearing, and it made him resentful. How could anyone understand?

"instead you keep calling out for the one that will. that anomaly."

His best friend had always been the exception.

"but kid… i don't think they're listening."

Flowey didn't know, continued to say nothing. He didn't notice the bones had retreated back into the floor. The wind that blew through the corridors made him shake.

"you get me now?"

He raised his head. Something about the way he smiled was different. Less forced. Sans recognized him then. Then? Before? Or…?

"so why don't we try something better this time?" He winked. His left eye this time. Blue was covered. "since i won't always be here to look out for ya."

That smile.

"You know who I am?"

Sans knelt down so that he could see Flowey face-to-face. Casual, relaxed even. "well, i have a theory. wanna confirm it for me?"

It was more than déjà vu. It was a fated thing. It was a reflection in a broken mirror, of a need to reclaim things that were lost. Like before, when the golden flowers only thrived on the Surface, when Sans helped him out of a bind.

"Are you… trying to save me? After all that I did?"

Sans shrugged it off. "hell if i know." The way he spoke suggested that he really didn't.

It was his stance. The way he shifted, no longer as tense, and the air of energy and rattling bones didn't feel as pronounced anymore. Why was that? Why was he reminded of small, worthless meetings, back when the very thought of a new friend was enough to make him so happy? Why was that something to be noticed at all?

But that smile showed everything. And it reminded Asriel of-

It reminded him of the small hands gripping his back, the hissed whispers, the dare of promises. He would've killed me, Asriel. He would've killed me.

And that was all Flowey could remember.

"I don't need your worthless pity!"

For that moment, Sans let down his guard, taking a chance on mercy. And in that moment, Flowey took his own chance like a hungry, cornered animal, wringing it to shreds as his vines encircled around Sans' waist. The skeleton's eye sockets widened, but not in the way that his brother's did. Pupils minimized to tiny pinpricks of light in the blackness of space. He pulled out one hand from his coat pocket, but a vine wrapped around his wrist before he could do anything. More vines kept Sans' other arm locked for good measure. He felt a sharp pain. A small piece from his vine had been slightly torn off, held in Sans' hand before retreating back to his pocket, but he was too excited to care. Sans could claw away at him as much as he wanted to. It really didn't matter.

Flowey laughed ecstatically. He lifted the skeleton high in the air, keeping him wrapped tight. As helpless as a bag of discarded bones.

"You idiot." He turned his face into the epitome of a nightmare. "I win this time."

He enjoyed watching Sans' struggle, the grin on his face so tight it seemed his teeth would shatter. Bones materialized in the air, but Flowey swatted them away like flies, watching them break apart on impact.

"Oh? Trying to fight back? Here, Flowey the flower can help!"

Thorns erupted from the vines. Sharp, protruding things that punctured through the right side of Sans' ribcage. They broke just as easily as his weapons had.

"Uh oh! Guess you should've drunk more milk when you had the chance. Oh well!"

The vine around Sans' right wrist tightened, stretched, first breaking it from its socket, then ripping it off completely. His hand, along with the upper part of his arm, was tossed to the ground. Already, parts of it was disintegrating.

Sans didn't make a sound. Just holding the same grin, forever cursed to wear.

"How sad! But we can't stop now!" Flowey's voice dripped pure venom. "I'm going to pay you back for every death you gave me. Bit by bit." He focused on Sans' left leg, watching with glee as cracks already started to spider-web down the bone. "Then I'll start over, and do the same to your brother. Every. Single. Time."

Another sharp crack. Something dripped out of those broken bones, like a mix of red and yellow paint, but Flowey didn't care. He tossed that useless body part aside to land in the many piles of dry leaves.

Sans still didn't say anything. Despite all the pain he must have felt. Despite that, already, his body was fading.

"Given up now? Wow! That's the smartest thing I've ever seen you do!" Flowey summoned his pellets then, friendly little things only meant for friendly little friends, all ringed around Sans' head. "But it'll be a while before I'm done with you yet!"

Then Sans did something. He inclined his chin just a fraction, enough to dim his pupils to nonexistence. His voice was the raspy texture of sandpaper.

"then what, bud?"

Flowey's grin wavered. "What?"

"will they answer you now?" Sans grin widened. Like before. Like – "it might be time to call it quits."

Again, that worthless pity. It sickened him, it hurt him. He didn't like the feeling. It'd been too very long. He didn't want it anymore. He had never wanted it in the first place.

"I won't ever stop! I'm not you! They'll come back for me! I don't need your help! I never needed it!"

The same vine punctured through Sans' chest, leaving the entirety of his ribcage a fractured mess.

"You can't understand how this feels!"

He could barely breathe.

There were tears, actual tears flowing down Flowey's face then, watering the ground, sinking through the cracks in the stone, nourishing his roots. He couldn't make it stop, no matter how much he tried. I always was a crybaby, wasn't I?

Is that why you won't talk to me?

Though his vision was so distorted, hurting his eyes so much, he could see Sans still, held suspended by his vines. There was barely much of anything of him left. Just broken remains that couldn't stand up to a brief gust of wind. It was then that he saw something that he had never noticed before. All the dumb bone puns, the lazy hand-waves, and the light of his blue magic, which was now fading fast, flickering from the inside of his skull like a dying machine; they had all masked Sans so very well. Not once in all of his discarded timelines had Flowey seen it.

"…heh…"

Sans, eternally smiling, gazed down at the flower with utter hopelessness.

"so we have… something in common."

Flowey kept his vines still, curved around the empty space in the air, long after the skeleton had turned to dust.

He didn't bother trying to find Toriel again. Flowey suspected where she was, where Sans must have taken her. But he was exhausted, and putting in the effort didn't seem to be worth it. It wasn't like the Underground was vast or anything. He could find her later if he needed to, if he ever wanted to. But that was the last thing he wanted now.

He looked back at the house, feeling a weight drop into his stem. Despite the now gigantic hole in the wall, it was still standing. He could have gone into his – their – old room, but he decided not to. Again, the effort didn't seem to be worth it.

Instead, he went back to that small cliff, where he had once fallen down, however many years ago, out of the structure of the crumbling Ruins and into empty wilderness. He raised his head up, letting the silence fill him. He peered through the rocky ceiling, trying to find that hole where the human must have fallen through, but he couldn't tell from this distance. He couldn't see anything but the hazy reflection of a dark sky. He was a bright, yellow thing in the suffocating darkness. And it was quiet, the monsters that lived already having evacuated, or hiding away. No frantic crying of a Whimsun, no deep croaking of a Froggit.

His throat felt so raw.

"Help me," he whispered. "Please." Then he called out his best friend's name.

They didn't come.

Sans didn't come either.

Nobody came. But that was okay. Flowers can't feel sad.

Flowers can't feel anything.