To Hell

Chapter 8: To Hell

Snowflakes fell gently through Snowdin, casting long shadows over the buildings. Their proximity to Waterfall tended to bring in the occasional fog, drifting by the house drearily. Every now and then the scent of trash would waft out, just under the salty, humid air of Waterfall, and he couldn't help but be silently thankful that he didn't have an actual nose. Magic did quite a lot to keep it under control, but hte constant flow of waste was painful to watch. Similarly to how Papyrus was retching, actually. Sans felt like a phantom, holding the other skeleton firmly as they knelt.

"Thanks for holding my hair back Sans," Papyrus muttered into the toilet.

"Bro, did-did you just make a joke?"

Papyrus responded by vomiting miserably into the porcelain throne once again.

"Keep prayin' at the white altar, buddy," Sans rubbed his back emphatically with one hand, his other in his jacket pocket. Papyrus looked about as spent as Sans felt. "Poor bro. See. This is why you don't sneak into the liquor cabinet."

"Never again, Sans. This is literally the worst."

"Is Papyrus okay?" Frisk softly poked their head around the corner again worriedly, practically prancing from foot to foot. They wore Sans's shirt and shorts, and although it hung off of them a little strangely it fit well enough. The upstairs washer ran noisily enough to fill the house, though not quite loudly enough to cover up the sounds of a miserable skeleton. Sans still couldn't bring himself to look at them properly, couldn't meet their eyes. And how was he even supposed to? That thing - Frisk - just kept complicating matters. It would be a lot easier to just hate the little creature if it would stop giving his brother such worried looks.

"Oh, Papyrus is just peachy," Papyrus shakily gave them a weak thumbs up.

"Wow, Paps, you are salty when you drink."

"Okay…" Papyrus said a couple of times into the toilet, not even bothering looking up as he flushed. "Okay . So. So . There are, um. Some things that I think that we need to, uh. Discuss ."

"Hopefully not in the bathroom," Sans frowned a little.

"Sans."

"Yeah, Paps."

"Painkillers and a glass of water, if you would please."

Sans blinked and obliged immediately, withdrawing to the kitchen.

He quickly gathered the bottle of dwindling pain pills, dry swallowing a couple before dropping the last few into his hand and returning with the glass of water. Papyrus had already situated himself on the couch with Frisk drawn up on their knees beside him, the human looking pale and uneasy. He handed them both to his brother wordlessly, watching as Papyrus downed the pills and the entire glass of water in one go.

"… Another, please."

Sans wound up bringing another three glasses of water to Papyrus with the same response with every occurrence, watching as the skeleton downed each and every one, staring blankly ahead the entire time. Each time Sans returned with a glass of water he was slightly more unsettled, his mind feeling numb.

Sans eventually hopped onto the opposite end of the couch, hands folded in his lap as he waited. He almost hoped that nobody would break the silence, that he could just close his eyes for a moment and let the pain ease off. There was just too much in his mind, too much to deal with right now.

"Okay," Papyrus leaned forward a little, running a hand down his face. He looked mournfully at Frisk for a moment before forcing a small smile, petting them gently on the head. "Okay. So. Human. I… would like to apologize for my behavior."

"Papyrus-" Frisk started uncomfortably, but was silenced when he held up a single gloved finger.

"I am sincere in this," Papyrus insisted. "I most certainly could have handled the situation with a little more tact, and for that, I am sorry."

"I-it's okay, Papyrus. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Papyrus shushed them softly before leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in between his legs as he stared forward into nothing.

"I'm… not certain how this happened to you, little friend," Papyrus said quietly, interlocking his fingers together. "I'm not sure how. I don't know why . I don't even entirely understand why you do not wish to speak about it, but I assure you that when you are ready, I… will be here, for you. Alright?" he tilted his head at Frisk, looking worn out, tired, a bit hungover, but determined and always, always kind. Frisk smiled silently back and took his hand in their own, leaning against him.

"… How did you get to be so cool, Papyrus?" Frisk murmured.

"Years and years of practice," Papyrus responded, albeit a little dryly.

Sans mulled over a great many things as they spoke beside him, tuning them out in favor of drifting through his thoughts.

He understood more than he did before. And yet, there was a part of him that really wished he didn't. It would have made things simpler, at least. Sans withheld a groan with difficulty, rubbing the sides of his head wearily. So he had a drug addled child - a human, at that - on his hands with an apparent 'liking' to green magic. He firmly and intently reminded himself to never, ever let Papyrus use healing magic on them. His poor brother had already been through enough. Besides, there was only so much that his magic could do in a short span of time. Some of the wounds would easily heal with a few days worth of good monster food and some rest. Others, however…

Sans didn't want to find himself thinking of it, but it was now one of the images burned into his memory from then until the end of time. Seeing that mark, that burn, that branding had filled him with such a roiling, vicious, intent hate that it scared him, and he wasn't certain exactly what was causing the sick feeling in his stomach but he didn't like it. He bitterly hoped that he never encountered the person (Frisk had said them, it might have even been more than one, stars have mercy) that had done that to them.

Because if they ever met, they were going to have one hell of a bad day.

Did the human even deserve something like that? He knew he had told them that they didn't, he hadn't even thought about it when he said it, it had just been something that he felt intead of a reaction based on logic and principle. He knew what a backstabbing, murderous little freak that they were. Who knew, maybe they had done something terrible or committed some grevious crime on the surface and that was how punishments were doled out? It was a weak and crappy excuse and he knew it, he was flailing for straws, but he wanted something, anything, some kind of reasoning for such… actions . His stomach churned violently again and he shook his head, letting out an unsteady breath. Sans didn't notice when the blanket was drawn over Frisk. Still staring blankly ahead, he hardly turned at all when Papyrus made a small motion to him. He blinked and drew himself from his reverie, stretching. He had almost made it to the point where he could fall asleep, but it appeared that the kid had beaten him to the punch. They were leaned against Papyrus (and his stomach jolted again with an uncomfortable feeling seeing them so close to his brother) with their eyes closed, breathing heavily through their nose, their little chest falling and rising slowly beneath the blanket.

"Man this kid loves naps," Sans murmured just loudly enough for Papyrus to hear.

"Sans."

He blinked and glanced up at his brother, who carefully stood so as not to wake Frisk.

"Do you think that you can watch them for a bit?" Papyrus asked quietly, tapping his fingertips together. Sans stared at him in surprise, the uncertainty beginning to take hold again."I need to attend to some things, but they need to stay and rest. Can you make sure they get a proper nap while I'm out?"

"Yeah, of course Paps," Sans blinked again, whispering so as not to wake them. "What's up? Are you sure you're alright? What's goin' on? Where are you goin'?"

"Well, there's no time to rest, and besides, we're going to need some tools to fix the door," he listed off on his fingers. "I'm also going to need to pick up groceries. Maybe I could find some clothes that might actually fit the human at the shop, but I kind of doubt it but I still want to try, they can't just wear your clothes all the time; at the very least I could pick up some more supplies and break out the sewing machine-"

"Okay, okay Paps," Sans reassured him with a small laugh. "I get it. I'll watch 'em until you get back. No worries, bro."

"You'll keep an eye socket on them?" Papyrus's eyes flickered nervously between them.

"Two, if I can manage it," he gave a little grin.

"Thank you," Papyrus said a little too loudly, causing Frisk to stir momentarily, whining in their sleep before falling gradually back into slumber. They both looked at each other tensely as the human stilled, and Papyrus let out a low breath. He gently placed a hand on their head as a sadness crossed his face. "I'll be back soon," he said a little more quietly, slipping out the front door and struggling to close it a few times.

Sans was left alone in the quiet house, now completely and utterly unable to fall asleep.

… Dammit.

Sans quietly folded his hands in his lap, letting out a practiced sigh through his teeth as he stared through the dark. He didn't want to even glare at the little shit that had the nerve to sleep next to him. He needed to stay angry at it - at them - and he couldn't just go forgetting about what they had done. Maybe they weren't covered in dust this time around, maybe he had learned some things that threw a wrench into the machine, but that didn't mean that he could just trust them not to go on a stabbing spree. But he was more than a little tired, and he could already feel his attention slipping. To declare that his day had been hectic would be an understatement. Between dealing with Undyne, the incident with Doggo (who he was going to have to provide a month's worth of dog treats for now, great) and attempting to heal Frisk, he felt as if he hadn't slept in years. There was simply too much to handle right now, he could feel his body finally, finally shutting down, catching up with his worn out mind. The darkness thankfully swallowed him eventually, letting him drift in bliss for a while.

When he awoke, Frisk had shifted in their sleep. They were using his stomach as a makeshift pillow, curled up beneath the blanket for warmth and breathing softly. Sans felt a small, unexpected smile slowly creep onto his face, and he let out a single chuckle as he gently patted them on the head. They were such a small thing. It worried him just how rail thin they were, and since Papyrus pointed it out it just seemed even more obvious. Had the kid actually eaten at all recently? Gauging from their… 'condition', Sans would have guessed not. It made that queasy, upset feeling sneak back unwelcomingly into his stomach, but it seemed to fade just a little bit more with each few passing minutes that he slowly ran a thumb over Frisk's head, his mind roiling. Constantly watchful, constantly fearful, constantly terrified of him. And yet, they were apparently comfortable enough around him to fall asleep on him.

Frisk was definitely a weird kid.

He sat there for a while, keeping his breathing slow and steady so as not to disturb them, his mind wandering. There was an odd spark in his chest that he couldn't quite identify. He mulled it over as he ran a hand over their head, skeletal brows furrowed. They just seemed so small, so tiny . Hadn't this been the creature to wreak havoc all across the Underground and use time like their personal toy?

Then the other thought crossed his mind. Maybe they really were telling the truth. It seemed unlikely at best, but…

There was always the matter of that damned weed.

Sans was sick, so, so sick of pretending that he had no idea what was going on just to keep the flower on it's metaphorical toes. He couldn't remember all of the resets; that would have undoubtedly driven him completely insane. Had the kid simply taken control of the timeline away from it? How was that even possible? No, he was glad he didn't remember everything. He could, however, remember quite a few of the resets, and they had almost always been undoubtedly due to the flower. Then the kid came, and everything had started changing again. Those had been bad enough.

He shook his head gently, closing his eyes as he froze up, his chest tightening. He didn't want or need to go struggling to remember some of the more horrendous resets. The only way to really get through was to try to forget. Which was, ironically, the last thing that he actually wanted to do.

Frisk sighed in their sleep, and Sans resumed stroking their head with soft, gentle motions, phalanges a little tangled in their hair. There were so many puzzle pieces just begging to be put together. He would put it together eventually. It was then that he realized what the feeling in his chest was.

Affection .

He recoiled inwardly and froze, fighting the steadily growing disgust and horror.

He'd gotten too attached.

He was compromising everything .

He stared down at the child in his lap, contemplating deeply. He could find a way to put an end to the resets. He had to find a way to put an end to the resets.

Didn't he?

So many timelines, jumping left and right, stopping and starting. Until eventually, everything just… ends.

Sans sighed quietly through his teeth, trying to close his eye sockets. Maybe it really all was just pointless .

But there was that little burn, that little spark in his chest that refused to die out. He would keep going. He would go through the motions, play the part he was required to, again and again. Not for him.

For Papyrus.

He gradually spared a glance downward with one cracked eye.

… Maybe even for them.

"You sure you got this, bro?"

"I've always got everything, brother."

"Positive? I don't think you can manage it without waking them up."

"Nonsense," Papyrus scoffed. "Just look at them, they're sleeping like a log. A very adorable, tiny, human shaped log. Trust me Sans, I'm a professional."

Papyrus winked to him conspiratorially.

The painfully loud screech of the rusty power drill on the door almost drowned out Frisk's terrified shriek as they jolted awake, tumbling to the floor.

"… Ah," Papyrus immediately cringed and rubbed the side of his head, looking at the stunned child apologetically. "Sorry about disturbing your nap, human Frisk! I was just putting the finishing touches on the door," he pointed to the now repaired (slightly patchy looking) door.

"How-how long…?" Frisk's head whipped around wildly, looking between the kneeling Papyrus and Sans, who was reclined on the couch lazily with his arms behind his head.

"Not long," Sans shrugged halfheartedly as Papyrus began to collect his tools, testing out the new door knob a couple of times with a proud smile. He plucked his shirt with two finger bones and held it up, grinning a little at them."Thanks for droolin' all over my shirt, by the way."

Frisk flushed awkwardly and rubbed their arms, standing and looking away.

"I'm sorry," Frisk mumbled, tucking their hands into their sleeves and looking at their feet.

"What are you aplogizin' for?" Sans shrugged again with a grin.

"Naps are the best. That's why I have them as often as possible. Heck, I'm having one right now."

"No you're not," Papyrus pointed out.

Sans responded by dropping his head and snoring loudly.

Papyrus grunted in disgust and threw up his hands, earning a chuckle from his brother.

"I'll have some nice hot spaghetti ready in a few minutes," Papyrus dusted his gloved hands, standing up straight before clicking his fingers. "Oh! Stay right there, human Frisk! Stay right there, I'll be right back! Nyeh heh heh!"

And with that he literally bounded right over them, bolting up the stairs three at a time, yammering to himself the entire time.

Frisk looked at him questioningly, but Sans only shrugged again.

"No idea," he winked. "I'm asleep."

Papyrus was back within moments, almost tripping over himself in his excitement as he held something behind his back in one hand. He skidded to a halt a half step in front of Frisk, who only looked up at him uncertainly.

"So," Papyrus used his free hand to adjust his scarf, smiling down at Frisk and kneeling before them. "After my, er, chat with Doggo I realized that some monsters might not be necessarily, eh… thrilled to discover a human in the Underground," he continued, playing with his scarf absentmindedly. "So, I mean, I set to work rectifying the issue as rapidly as possible. Obviously it's no substitute for just being a real monster, but I, um, hope you like it, little one."

He ever so slowly withdrew his hand from behind his back, letting the object fall loose in his hands as he held it out to Frisk. Their eyes widened and their mouth dropped a little, staring in disbelief up at him. It was a small deep blue jacket a couple sizes too large, several shades lighter than their jumper with a red stripe across the front identically colored to Papyrus's scarf. The hood had a couple of smooth, velvety floppy little horns sewed neatly to the top, and bounced a bit in Frisk's fingers.

"I know it isn't exactly my best work," Papyrus tapped his fingers together awkwardly. "I hope it isn't too bad-"

"It's wonderful, Papyrus," Frisk half choked, hugging him tightly around the neck, beaming tearily up at him.

"I'm glad you like it!" He squeezed them back before standing with a relieved smile. "Try not to fall asleep again though, I'll have dinner ready shortly, okay?"

Frisk nodded happily at him, watching him go before holding the jacket tight, pressing their face into it and swinging it a little back and forth.

"Paps is pretty cool, huh," Sans cracked an eye open to watch them as they clambered up onto the couch beside him, bearing what was possibly the biggest, dopiest looking smile he had ever seen on them.

"I know," Frisk tugged on the jacket with a chirrup, face a little flushed as they inspected themselves. "He's the best ."

Well, at least they could agree on something.

It was silent for a while longer, and Sans relaxed with his eyes closed as he listened to the sound of Papyrus bustling about the kitchen. He desperately wished that the moment would last just a bit longer, letting him drift in between consciousness and sleep. However, things were never that simple. Papyrus alerted them a short while later and Sans shrugged off the last remnants of sleep, pulling his hands out of his pockets and standing.

"You just gonna sit around kiddo?" Sans asked Frisk, who was curled up with their face against their knees. "… Buddy?"

Frisk looked up eventually, but not at him. Their eyes were a little unfocused and their face was a very light shade of pink. They looked to be sweating a little and mumbled something to themselves.

"Y'alright there, kid?" Sans asked uneasily. Frisk shifted and looked at him almost as if they were looking through him before slowly, slowly nodding and pulling themselves from the couch to stumble into the kitchen. He didn't like that he couldn't quite shake the uncomfortable feeling, but eventually began to shrug it off as Papyrus noisily set plates for everyone, rambling about the plans for the next day. Sans sipped silently at a bottle of ketchup, letting his mind wander while Papyrus talked. The spaghetti really wasn't all that bad. Maybe it was because it was only partially burned this time. The taller skeleton didn't seem to mind at all though, and was talking animatedly between Frisk and his brother.

"-And I was thinking about showing you around Snowdin tomorrow as well; just because this place is a bit cramped doesn't mean that there isn't plenty to explore! I'm sure we'll have plenty of fun withwith, er… human? Frisk? Are… you alright?"

Sans blinked and glanced tiredly up at the human across from him. Frisk had hardly touched anything on their plate, and while their brow and neck seemed oddly paler than usual their cheeks had grown a very bright cherry red, and they swayed gently back and forth on their chair over and over. Their hands were clenching and unclenching on the table, grasping at nothing, and they had that same 'not there' look in their eyes again as they stared off into nothing.

"… Buddy?" Sans asked after an extremely awkward moment of silence.

"I… I don't feel… so good…" Frisk breathed weakly, sweat beading along their brow.

"Don't look so good, either," Sans frowned, reaching out for them a little out of instinct. "You gonna-"

"B'th'room," Frisk spluttered quickly, almost falling out of their chair in their haste. They scrambled out of the room, nearly tripping over themselves multiple times before he heard the bathroom door click shut.

Sans looked in discomfort to his brother, who had a hurt expression on his face.

"… The spaghetti wasn't that bad, right…?"

"It tastes great Paps," Sans lied automatically. "Kid's just had kind of a rough day is all. They'll be fine."

He tried to say it with as much conviction as he could, but it wasn't much. They ate the rest of their dinner in relative silence, each of them stealing glances every few minutes for what felt like forever in Frisk's direction. Sans started to clear and collect the dishes before Papyrus shook his head, silently gesturing for him to check on Frisk. Sans nodded once in understanding, sticking his hands in his pockets and shuffling through the living room. He came to a stop before the bathroom door, pulling out his fist and rapping his knuckles a couple of times against the wood.

"… Knock knock," he said for emphasis.

He was greeted by the sound of pained vomiting.

"Yeesh," he cringed. "Is everybody barf-y today or something? Heck, maybe there really is something going around. I would say I'm worried about catchin' a stomach bug, but I don't seem ta have one of those."

He was met by silence.

"Kinda hoping it wasn't Papyrus's spaghetti…" Sans chuckled more to himself than anything. "Don't tell him I said it, but it kinda isn't exactly the best sometimes. He's getting way better though ever since he started cooking lessons with Undyne. He still refuses to ever let me cook though. But, hey, at least I don't usually set the kitchen on fire," he said jokingly. "At least, mostly not on purpose."

Silence.

"… Kiddo?" Sans asked quietly, shifting from foot to foot, the uneasiness clawing at his stomach. "You, uh. Doin' alright in there?"

Still no answer.

Sans let out a quiet sigh through his teeth.

"Look, buddy," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Hate t'admit it, but, uh, the silent treatment is kinda puttin' me on edge here. If you don't answer, I'm gonna open the door. Alright?"

Nothing.

"… Kid?"

Sans pushed the bathroom door open, and had to fight to keep from shouting in alarm.

Frisk was lying on the bathroom floor facedown, unmoving. Sans felt his marrow freeze, and he carefully closed the bathroom door behind him. They were fine. They had to be fine. There wasn't a reset, everything was still in place, so it had to be fine. They were fine. Eventually he was going to make it a single day without something going wrong. The last thing he needed to do was freak out Papyrus, his brother had enough on his plate as it was. Don't panic. Don't worry Papyrus. They were fine they were fine please god let them be okay!

"Frisk?! " Sans choked and dropped to his knees beside them, carefully turning them over. They were sweating and their hair was matted to their forehead, and their eyes were unfocused. They were pallid and trembling furiously, their cheeks were a fiery red and their forehead was hot to the touch, nearly burning. "Shit, shit, shit," he hissed under his breath. They'd already used the last of the painkillers, if they'd have even done any good. Was there any kind of fever reducer in the house? Human medicine wasn't exactly something he thought that he would ever need to stock up on. Sans found himself wildly rifling through the cabinets faster and faster, frantically looking for something, anything that would help. Frisk moaned pitifully from the floor, clawing at the tile beneath them. He could feel another headache forming, pounding heavily behind his eyes from stress.

"S-Saa-aans…"

"I know, I know," he murmured quietly, sympathetically. "H-hang on, buddy… !"

Desperate, he grabbed a cloth from the cabinet and began soaking it in water under the sink, dropping to his knees again and carefully helping Frisk to sit against the tub. They struggled weakly at first twisting their head away, prompting him to gently but firmly force them to sit.

"Need you to tell me what you're feelin' here buddy," Sans held the cold wet cloth against their forehead, slightly covering their eyes, and they shivered. He tried to place their hand against the cloth to get them to hold it, but their arm simply fell limply back to their side. Their breathing hitched and their shoulders shook, their head lolling a little from side to side. "Come on… ! Don't-don't fall asleep, k-kinda need ya to help me out here bud… What's wrong, Frisk? Are you sick? Is it - is it a cold or something, god I hope it's a cold you're not sneezing or anything but that isn't necessarily indicative of a cold just that you need to sneeze I don't even - hang on, babybones," he tried and failed to keep his hand from shaking as he held the cool cloth to their head. Was there something that had sparked this? How was he supposed to fix it? What was he supposed to do when they looked like death warmed over?

The horrible thought occurred to him that, just maybe, they were close to death.

And if they died, they would be forced to repeat everything all over again, inevitably dying from an illness that he was completely powerless to stop, over, and over, and over, and every time he would be forced to watch.

The despair pushed at the inside of his eyes and he fought to keep control, to keep calm. He needed to stay calm, if he snapped then everything would go straight to hell. He had to stay focused.

Stay calm.

"Talk to me, babybones," he said softly, running his hand worriedly over their head, eliciting no response. "Please. Please, god, just… say something. Anything. Please. Please, babybones. Talk to me."

"H-huuuurts…"

"Frisk," Sans breathed, pulling the cloth from their forehead to wipe the tears and sweat and snot from their face, their breathing coming ragged and uneven. They were silently sobbing, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets as if searching for something that wasn't there. Again the thought crossed his mind that the lights were on, but nobody was home. "Come on," he held up a couple of phalanges in front of them. "How many fingers am I holding up? Come on. Come on, please buddy, don't go anywhere. Stay here with me. Please. H-how mamany fingers on a human h-hand, yeah? How many fingers, babybones?"

Frisk responded by moaning weakly, clutching their stomach.

"… Sans?" they breathed eventually, as if only having just realized his presence.

"Right here," He said quickly, gripping their hand in his. "Right here, buddy."

"N-n-need… it…"

"Come on, kiddo," he wiped the sweat beading from their forehead with the cloth again.

"Please," Frisk hiccuped miserably, sounding as if their tongue was too heavy. "Please, I-I w-was good…"

"Yeah," he muttered, washing the cloth and bringing it back to wash their forehead again. Shit, they were going to die. They were going to die and he was going to be forced to watch them fade, he had to do something… "Yeah. You're a g-good kid, Frisk. You're a good kid."

"Sans?" Frisk's breathing fell unevenly, and their shoulders twitched as one of their legs kicked at nothing.

"Right here, buddy. You're here with me too, right?"

"We - I'm here," Frisk slurred. "Sans - Sans, please, please it hurts…"

"What does, babybones?" he ran a shaky hand over their head, pulling a little at their matted hair. "Tell me what's wrong. I c-can't… I can't… what is it, Frisk? I need you to communicate with me here pal, tell Sansy what's wrong."

"Feel funny…" Frisk muttered breathily, head drooping a little to the side again, and Sans gently propped them up. "Insides… Belly. Belly hurts. Please, Sans… it hurts, it hurts… !"

"Okay," Sans ran a hand over his head, wiping away sweat that he wasn't sure who it belonged to. "Okay. Okay, stomach ache. I can - I can handle this."

"Please," Frisk sobbed dryly, clutching their stomach with one hand and scrabbling at the floor with the other. "P-please, S-Sans, it-it hurts, just make it stop… !"

"Alright, alright," Sans said over their wheezing. "Okay. Just hang in there, kiddo, please, just please be okay, I'm-I'm gonna take care of everything. I promised I'd take care of you, right? Right," he ran a hand down his face, steeling himself mentally. "Right. Right, okay. Okay . You're gonna be okay, babybones; hold still for me, o-okay?"

They were making him do this. This wasn't quite right, this wasn't okay by any means, but he couldn't risk worrying Papyrus. Couldn't let himself go through another reset. Couldn't watch them suffer any longer. He fumbled to roll up the cloth and presented it to Frisk, pressing it against their thin lips.

"Bite this for me," he commanded, and they did so. Sans was already drained, he felt so spent, but they needed him. They were hurt, they were in pain, and they needed him. Sans took in a shaky breath, placing a trembling hand beneath their shirt on their stomach. He was awful, he hated himself so much but they were hurting, they needed him. It was difficult, painful to drag up the last dregs of magic that he could, focusing intently as he could on feelings of warmth, of comfort and home, of healing and hope. At first, nothing happened.

Please. Please, just let them be okay. Don't die. Please, please, please babybones.

Eventually, finally, a thin, faint trickle of green light began emanating from his palm. Sans felt the drain almost immediately, his bones feeling thicker and heavier with every passing moment. He forced himself to continue, squeezing every last drop of healing magic that he could to reverberate into his hand. Frisk hitched and shuddered, gasping sharply and arching their back before falling still.

As soon as it was over Sans had to fight hard to keep his eye sockets open, his head drooping and shoulders slumped from the effort. He just felt so tired. So empty . Is this what expending effort felt like? He silently quipped to himself with a reminder to never try ever again, because stars and stones it hurt. His head felt as if it were filled with water. He gave and gave until he simply had no more to give.

"… You okay now, buddy?" Sans's voice was strained and gravelly as he slowly ran a hand over their quivering head. Frisk didn't speak, but spluttered and spat out the cloth letting it fall from their mouth, breathing irregular and shaky. They eventually nodded a couple of times, eyes half lidded. Sans tried to help them stand but they only draped their arms over his shoulders, groaning lightly with their face buried in his chest.

Sans nearly fell to the floor as he fought to stand with Frisk in his arms, his legs feeling like lead. He forced one foot to the floor at a time, focusing intently and feeling as if he might drop at a moment's notice. The door seemed miles away, the walls were too close and the heat just kept rising, and since when had the house been set on a spinning plate? He just had to keep going. Don't give in. Stay calm. Keep going.

Do it for Frisk.

"So I was thinking that we could watch that new Mettaton movie tonight," Papyrus chatted amicably as he returned from the kitchen, tugging his gloves onto his hands. "I know we're kind of out of popcorn but considering the mess from last t- Sans?"

"Kiddo's not feelin' s'good," Sans was barely heard as he carefully, slowly lay the sleeping Frisk onto the sofa. His own voice sounded so weirdly far away. "Come t'think of it, I'm… I'm not feelin' t'good either."

"Sans?!"

"That's m'name. See ya when I get back from Hell, Paps."

He was out before he hit the floor.