Entry # 6 for "Cheer Up The Skeleton" week over on Tumblr. The prompt was "The Machine Is Fixed."

Finally.

Sans reached up and slid his headphones off of his skull, hanging them around his neck as he stared at his work. Everything finally fit into place. Every part, every single missing piece was now accounted for. For years, the device sat behind a curtain. A shroud of uncertainty.

He grabbed a clipboard off a nearby workbench and immediately began to run his diagnostics. It was routine, and he still expected the typical results, but there was something more now. Determination.

"power output...nominal. no sudden losses. Structural integrity holding, no dangers there."

He grabbed a pen and stretched it out slowly toward the machine. Static sparked off the metal end, and stopped. He reached further, allowing his hand to touch it before going back to the list.

"energy field is safe and stable. calculations are holding steady too, no sudden crashes. i think..."

He did it.

It smelled like progress and possibilities.

From the outside, it appeared to be simple. A large glass tube, wherein sat a single chair with several pieces of monitoring equipment attached. A large dome structure stuck out from the top of the chair's back, presumably for the head.

He checked again. And again. And double-checked that, and triple-checked even that. He had to be absolutely sure. He had to eliminate any false positives, had to delete the possibility of dead ends or bad leads. He had to be sure there was no false hope. After about an hour of checks, the answer came to him. It was done.

The Artificial Save/Load Point was completed.

His mind raced with the possibilities. With this machine, it was possible to send his present consciousness back into his own timeline, giving his past self the knowledge they would need to change things. Everything.

He thought about going back to the Underground, back when he first met Frisk. The first time. When he barely ever talked to them, when Frisk was just a frightened child in a world full of monsters. A child that just needed a friend, and Sans refused, for the most part. He kept watch, but never really gave Frisk the help they really needed. They needed somebody to talk to. They needed somebody to assure them that everything was going to be okay. They needed guidance. Sans could give them that guidance, both to avoid the countless resets, the constant "deaths" of his brother, and to finally just give himself peace of mind.

His eyes panned over to the school assignment Frisk had given him days before, which he hung on the wall. He wanted to really be the "best brother" he could be.

But that wasn't enough. He thought back even farther. Back to his work at The Core, in the Research Department, with his mentor. He could stop the accident from ever happening. He could work together with his mentor in order to find some way to break the barrier without the use of human souls! To free monsters by their own power, not that stolen by sacrificing lives! Lives! He could save ilives!/i

He wanted to hear those words again. The words his mentor spoke the morning before the experiment. He could still hear them clearly in his mind, perhaps in his soul.

"Every Action Is A Ripple In A Pond. That Ripple Has The Power To Change Everything. It Can Help The Fish In The Pond, Or It Can Scare Them Away. It Can Cause The Pond To Become Better Than It Ever Was, Or It Could Become A Barren Ruin, All Because We Slapped Our Hands On The Surface. We Have To Be Careful, Sans."

...Careful?

Change...everything?

Everything?

He felt a tightness in his chest, one that felt like a sudden anxiety attack. The weight of what he'd heard that day had finally caught up with him, and it only took years to sink in. It was crushing. It was crushing to finally understand what the doctor was saying, that despite his best intentions, things could spiral out of control.

But...wasn't it his duty to try?

He powered down the machine and sighed. There were too many thoughts at war in his mind, now. He had to wait, and find the answers once the dust settled.

He decided to go to Grillby's.

The place was almost empty.

Again, a strange sight, especially when the evening was getting on. No throngs of hungry people getting off late work shifts to fill up with something quick. Not even many of the regulars were hanging around, and there was nobody at the bar except for Grillby. Still cleaning glasses, as always.

It smelled like kindling and kismet.

Sans took his usual seat at the bar, nodding at Grillby as the elemental already had a bottle of ketchup at the ready. He popped the top and took a sip, and slammed the bottle down happily.

"i did it, grillz. i fixed the machine."

Grillby tilted his head.

"oh, right. guess i never told you. i've been working on this machine, it broke in the accident at the core. it's a...man, how can i explain it."

He pulled out a napkin, and drew his face, twice, and drew a line between them with an arrow pointing in one direction.

"it's kinda like a time machine, but not exactly. i can't send myself back in time, but i can send my mind, my memories, back into my past self's consciousness. i can use the things i know now to fix the problems back then, to make the changes i need to! we could..."

He looked at Grillby and sighed.

"you don't believe me. yeah, i get it, it's pretty unbelievable, but it's true."

Grillby pushed up his glasses and leaned down on the counter to get on Sans' level.

"I believe you."

The shock almost caused Sans to fall back off of his stool. Grillby hardly ever talked, and Sans had only heard it a handful of times, and they were never directed at him. It was a gentle voice. Low, deep, but one that felt like it was filled with experiences that were unheard of. It was quiet, like the gentle crackling of a small campfire.

"...you're actually talking...to me?"

"Why?"

"wait, that's my question. why are you suddenly..."

"Why do you want to go back so badly?"

"because i could fix things. because maybe i could get us out of the underground sooner, without the need for..."

He remembered that most people didn't know what The Core was truly researching and held his tongue. Or the magical skeleton equivalent of a tongue, anyway.

"i could save lives! i could...go back and help frisk when i should have! or maybe i could find a way to stop the barrier from ever being made, or..."

"No."

"grillz, listen, you don't understand what i'm sayin.'"

"I understand enough."

It was beginning to agitate Sans. All of a sudden, that nagging voice inside his own mind was here in the real world, coming from somebody he'd considered one of his closest confidants. Now he wasn't sure about anything, and it frustrated him that all his work could be considered so pointless.

"no, you don't. you don't understand what we went through. what i went through. it was a nightmare. i lived every day knowing i was going to see it all happen again. and again. and again and again and again and again!"

Grillby stood back up and adjusted his collar, allowing Sans to finish his tirade before speaking again.

"I was in the war."

The skeleton fell silent.

"With the humans. I was in that war, ages ago. Fire elementals can live a very long time, as long as we are properly kindled."

It felt like a spotlight was shining on the two of them now. The remaining few patrons in the bar had become nothing more than background noise, lost amidst the shadows of the restaurant. Plates clattering, glasses clinking, soups being slurped, they were all the same sound now. A blurry picture against static.

"I lost a lot of friends, Sans. A few of them even took arrows that should've killed me, but they died instead. I survived, at the cost of their lives."

"i'm sorry...i didn't know."

"And now you're telling me I could go back and fix it? That's incredible, but I still wouldn't do it."

"why? your friends could be here today, on the surface! peace with the humans! think about it!"

"My friends are gone, Sans. But what would happen if they survived? I know that, at least for a couple of them, it wouldn't have been a much happier ending. They hated humans. Monster souls might thrive on love and compassion, but they can still feel anger. They can still feel resentment."

He pointed at Sans.

"They can still feel hurt. If they survived, and lived long enough to escape the barrier, they could go on to take their revenge on humans. They could hurt, or kill people, take lives. Who knows, if I went back and stopped them from dying, I might die instead. This establishment might never even exist."

"grillby..."

"I don't understand the science of it, Sans, but I understand the concept, and I don't think it would be right. Everybody has scars. Every single monster and human on this planet. Those scars make us who we are, just like the good times do. They're part of our souls. We all hurt, and we all heal, and that healing helps us become better than the sum of our bad experiences. Without those scars, we wouldn't be the same people."

Sans remained silent.

"If you went back and stopped that accident, what would happen? You'd keep working at The Core, right? But Papyrus...Papyrus would still try to be a guard, so he'd be a sentry in Snowdin. He'd meet the human, the one that you told me you met in the forest. But you wouldn't be there, you'd be in Hotland. What would happen if you'd never met Frisk?"

"i...guess they'd just keep going to snowdin, and.."

"You've told me this story before. Without you being there, Papyrus would die. Without somebody telling this frightened lonely, sad child about how harmless Papyrus really is, they wouldn't hold back. Your brother would fight the child, and they would be so terrified of dying that they'd fight back. Maybe it would only take one punch. Maybe several, but they wouldn't give up until your brother was nothing but dust."

"shut up..."

"Do you want that? Do you want to go back to erase your scars? Because all you would accomplish is getting all new ones in their place. Would you use the machine to go back and help the human then? Stop them from killing Papyrus? Remember, your consciousness is suddenly in the past, you might not even remember Frisk, maybe not even their name. You might forget everything important to you now. Would you carry on your work? Would you kill the child out of frustration? The very same child that was responsible for shattering the barrier in the first place? Would you leave us in the underground just to save a life that was important to you? Selfish. Truly selfish."

"selfish? i just wanted to..."

"You wanted to erase everybody else's memories, alter them, change them, so you could feel better! You're telling me I don't understand? Do you know how many people I listen to on a daily basis? How many of them tell me they're so happy to be here? Up here on the surface? Can you guarantee that your research could break the barrier? Could you recreate our happy future now?"

"i...i don't..."

Grillby struck the final blow.

"Could you even carry on if your brother died?"

Critical hit. Nines across the board. Papyrus was his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. Possibilities merged with memories, and he knew the answer. Papyrus' death always led to anger, spite, and hatred. It always caused his mind to become clouded, and the feelings never went away. It was the one scar he felt would never truly heal. It was the full stop to any sort of scientific, and even emotional progress.

"...what am i supposed to do, then?" Sans asked, looking at Grillby with desperation.

"Just...don't. I've seen you in these last few days. You've been happy. Truly happy. That party a few days ago, our one year anniversary of escaping the underground? That was the happiest I'd ever seen you. And it wasn't because you were happy to be up here, it was because of who you were with. Toriel, Asgore, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton."

Sans pulled out his phone for a second, his hands trembling.

"Papyrus...and Frisk."

The lockscreen on his phone was a single picture. In the middle was a grinning Papyrus, with Frisk to the left, and on the right, Sans was there, giving his brother bunny ears and smiling.

Something dripped onto the touchscreen.

"...i think you made your point."

"Have I?"

Sans shook the feelings away for a second and gave a determined look.

"yeah. i think i know what i gotta do. thanks grillby. for everything."

The bartender pushed up his glasses again and gave an understanding nod.

"I will always be here to listen."

"yeah. you will."

The light in the shed flickered on, illuminating all of Sans' hard work up until this point. The machine stood in the corner, silently telling its story without the need for words. Sans still had difficulty processing just how simple the machine looked, knowing all the detailed circuitry and code that it relied on.

There were no more possibilities. No false hope, no false positives, no mistakes. Everything had finally fallen into place. There would be no more mistakes.

Sans raised one arm, and pointed it at the machine. A large animal-like skull materialized behind him, and began to channel energy in its mouth. When it had reached its limit, Sans relaxed his hold over it, and a beam of pure magic blasted the machine, hitting it dead center. All his work was going up in smoke. All his efforts were being vaporized by his own hand.

When it was over, there was nothing left but a black scorch mark against the back wall.

Sans fell to his knees, staring at the debris. This machine was his life's work, but it wasn't a symbol of hope. It was a chain, tethering him to his past. It was the one thing that constantly reopened his scars, when he should have been leaving them to heal.

It was nothing more than a tombstone.

And now it was gone.

He fell forward on his hands, not even trying to hide his tears anymore. Deep, heavy sobs erupted from the depths of his very soul, and he could feel it affect his magical essence itself. He hated admitting when he was sad. He always hid it. He was hiding it even now, but this time, not from himself.

But then...he realized that he wasn't actually sad.

For one moment, he was no longer thinking of all the things he could change. All his bad choices, his wrong turns, they were gone.

He glanced up again at Frisk's assignment on the wall, and smiled.

He was trapped in this timeline, forever. And he was free.

"...papyrus!"

Sans didn't even think before he ran across the yard, opening the sliding-glass door and entering the house, searching frantically. His search ended in the kitchen, near a bubbling pot of spaghetti noodles.

Papyrus was there.

He was there.

Right there!

"SANS? IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT?"

The chef almost fell over with the force that Sans used to hug him. Blue-jacketed arms reached behind Papyrus, squeezing so tight that he wondered if he'd ever let go. He could feel something beginning to dampen two spots on his apron.

"SANS ARE YOU...CRYING?"

No answer. The hug continued.

"SANS, BROTHER, WHAT HAPPENED?"

"we're free." Sans' muffled voice said. "we're free! really really free!"

"OF COURSE WE ARE! WE'VE BEEN FREE FOR A YEAR AND FOUR DAYS NOW!"

Sans finally released his brother and began to laugh. It wasn't a playful laugh, or a mischievous one, but a real, true, deep laugh. His brother didn't want to be left out, and gave in to how infectious it really was.

"HA...HA HA HA! HA HA...I DON'T KNOW WHY WE'RE LAUGHING!"

Sans struggled to catch his breath before looking Papyrus in his eye-sockets, beaming the widest grin he possibly could.

"i'm just...so happy you're here. that we're here. i just...kinda...wanted to say that."

Papyrus knew better, that his brother was hiding something again, but he'd learned not to probe further. Instead, he just placed his hands on Sans' shoulders.

"OF COURSE I AM. I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE."

"yeah. yeah you're right. thanks, papyrus. thank you."

It smelled like spaghetti, skeletons, and smiles.