No Sympathy
Chapter 44: No Sympathy
This wasn't happening. That was the easy answer.
This simply could not possibly be happening.
Asriel Dreemurr.
Chara's brother.
The lost child of royalty, gone for so long that his image was nearly forgotten.
Asriel freakin' Dreemurr was Flowey .
Nothing made any sense.
I HAVE QUESTIONS.
Sans felt dizzy again and he reached out for Frisk before he realized that they were no longer behind him, having darted to Papyrus' side as he knelt with the unconscious goat child in his arm and a half. Papyrus stared in wonderment down at the child in his arms, unable to quite come to grips with himself.
"What the fuck do you mean, 'what the flower used to be'?" Sans shot a filthy look at the melting scientist, who appeared to be losing bits of himself in the air only for pieces to warp out from inside his jacket, crawling up over him into place. "What did you do, what the hell did you do?!"
"Consider it a… show of good faith," Gaster ticked his hands together with a peaceful little smile. "I'm certain that you never would have wanted to speak with me unless I could prove that I am not your enemy. Whatever it is that you want, Sans. I can provide."
He said it so firmly, so calmly and collectedly, it made a shudder run up Sans's spine. Every single fiber of his being was screaming not to trust him, and he was going with his gut instinct. He settled for giving Gaster the bird and taking a shortcut to Papyrus's side, where he was gently laying the unconscious child on the ground.
"It's not real…" Frisk was mumbling to themselves, holding their arms tight and rocking back and forth as they were unable to look away. "Not-not real. Not real, not real… !"
"Paps," Sans started quietly as he looked down at the soon to be corpse of Asriel Dreemurr. "If that thing really is the flower, then you need to do us all a favor and kill that thing before it wakes up. It's not real, this is all some-some trap or somethin', we gotta get the hell outta here-!"
"Sans," Papyrus said slowly, looking in concern down to the unconscious child. "Something is wrong."
"No shit something's wrong!" Sans spluttered, shakily trying to pull Frisk away as they knelt beside Papyrus, holding the goat child's limp hand in their own. "Just fucking kill that thing already and let's get out -"
"You will not call him a thing !" Papyrus roared, causing him to flinch backwards on his heels.
The shock hit Sans more than anything. He glanced over to Gaster, who hadn't moved an inch, but was still staring at them with that smug, all knowing smile.
Papyrus took a deep breath and steadied himself, feeling with the back of his gloved hand on Asriel's forehead.
"Something's… something's wrong," Papyrus frowned, turning in concern to Sans. "Please. I-I know you don't like him. But… something isn't… right. Dad, what-what happened?"
"This timeline has so many different potential outcomes," Gaster replied quietly, smiling down at him. If Sans had hair, he'd be pulling
it out by this point. "Wouldn't you like to see them all? To see the outcomes that you want? To be so much more?"
"Why?" Sans jammed his shaking fists in his pockets, giving up on trying to pull Frisk away from the limp form of Asriel. "What's the point in doing this?"
"You can trust me, Sans…" Gaster steepled his finger bones together, clicking and clacking. It was then that Sans realized something odd. Gaster's fingers weren't making the noise. It was emanating from somewhere… inside him. Sans shuddered again, glowering at him.
"Come now. Let's be reasonable."
"Gaster - Dad, something is wrong… !" Papyrus said in distress, shaking the body on the floor to no avail. Papyrus pulled his gloved hand away in mounting terror. His fingertips were brushed with dust. "You said, you said - he's… Flowey, I-I mean, Asriel… what's wrong with him?"
"Giving something form is a very simple matter," Gaster's face bubbled a little as he spoke, his smile stretching a bit. "Taking something from one place and putting it in another. Giving something a soul, however… that is a different matter altogether."
"Wait…" Papyrus looked at him fearfully, hand clenching and unclenching. "But-but that means…"
"You said that you wished to see him one more time, as he truly was…" Gaster said with a hint of smugness in his voice. "Did I not give you whatever you asked for? Did I not provide, did I not grant your heart's desire as a good god should?"
"But-but, this isn't - I don't…" Papyrus looked so torn, gazing back and forth between the melting skeleton shifting in and out of focus and the unconscious, dustily decaying child. He looked like he was ready to cry and scream and be sick all at once, and Sans could relate.
It then occurred to Sans what should have occurred to him earlier.
Gaster had absolutely no intention whatsoever of letting Flowey Asriel - live at all. He brought him back, and he did so without a soul. Just blowing dust in the wind. He could practically already smell the dust in the air. He had brought back a child from the dead, not to do the right thing, not to give Papyrus what he wanted. He brought him back just so that Papyrus could watch him die all over again. It was all some sick fucking prank to him or something.
Frisk was hyperventilating heavily, grasping at Asriel's limp hand and biting their bottom lip so hard that it was beginning to draw blood. Sans whirled angrily on the spot to face the calm scientist, hatefully reaching deep for magic. He didn't care if it would have little to no effect. He needed someone to take it out on.
"… Why?" Sans asked quietly, feeling the loathing slowly broiling his bones. "Why would you do something like this? It - he's dying," Sans threw out an arm, trying to pretend that he didn't smell dust already. It smelled like dust, it smelled like bones. "Is this your version of a twisted, fucked up joke?"
"I wanted to see what would happen," Gaster said ever so quietly, just loudly enough that Sans could hear. Sans cast his arm out viciously and sent a snapping chord of conjured bones rippling through the air, but Gaster was gone before they could even land. Sans tried to catch his breath from the exertion before he felt that damned holed hand on his shoulder, and he swung wildly at the air, but it was like trying to hold water with his bare hands.
"Go fuck yourself!" Sans screamed furiously. He couldn't think . His head was pounding, his soul throbbing painfully, why couldn't he think clearly? Gaster only smirked at him with that cracked, jagged grin, the look of someone who was in on a joke that only he knew.
"Sans… !" Papyrus exclaimed in despair. "He's… he's dusting… !"
"Just leave it!" he ordered him uselessly. "Leave it, Paps, we gotta go
!"
"There is a child who needs my help," Papyrus said firmly, his eyes full of tears and worry. "I have to do something… !"
"There's nothing we can do," Sans stuck his hands in his pockets bitterly. "It's just another fucking experiment to him."
"That's-that's not…" Papyrus looked to Gaster for help, but the shifting shade only smiled down at him. "I-I just… why ?"
"Don't you wish to stop death itself?" Gaster asked quietly, holding out a hand to Papyrus. "I care little for all of these mortal squabbles. I could show you how to deny even the tides of fate. I can show you how, Papyrus. I can show you all of eternity."
Gaster's words fell on deaf ears, as he stood in what Sans could only assume was shock. He was certainly in shock. Papyrus, Sans, even the warped scientist seemed stunned.
Frisk had their soul out.
They were kneeling over the slowly dusting form of Asriel with their soul in their hands, murmuring something that he couldn't hear. Like some old language that even monsters had forgotten, it was almost silent but rang in the air like a chime. A brilliant red glow washed over them as they spoke words that he couldn't quite grasp. Papyrus rocked back on his heels in surprise, uncertain of what to do.
And then Frisk reached out and tore a chunk out of their own soul. It sank into Asriel's chest like it was sucked down a drain, and what remained of Frisk's own soul slipped back into their chest as they shrieked in pain.
Their scream reverberated throughout the gray room and Sans was at their side in a moment, his breath caught in his chest as he panicked, oh god what had they done?
"Frisk ?" Sans held the shaking child in his arms, his own hands trembling ferociously. "Oh shit, what- what just happened? What the fuck !? How-? What did you do ?"
"S-s-saved," they mumbled almost incoherently, falling limp soon after. He knew it for a fact that he could see that red tint to their fluttering chocolate eyes. "SAVEd."
"Frisk?" Sans choked as they slowly slipped away into sleep, and he gently closed their eyes with his palm and held them close, rocking back and forth.
"… What the hell just happened?" Papyrus breathed shakily, looking back and forth between them all. He clutched the form of Asriel in his arm, looking worriedly back and forth between him and Frisk.
"As I was saying," Gaster, oddly enough, looked slightly shocked, but continued in a raspy tone. "I have something-"
"And I've got something for you," Sans flipped him the bird again, grasping Papyrus firmly by the shoulder. "Eat a whole bag of dicks, you fucking megalomaniac."
If Gaster had anything that he wanted to say to them, Sans didn't hear it through the rushing sound of the shortcut.
Taking himself through a shortcut was no problem. It was going through a shortcut through that room that shouldn't be there proved to be slightly problematic. He didn't care where he went, so long as it was somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away from him.
Taking Frisk with him was hard.
Taking Papyrus with him was straining.
Taking Asriel with him was utterly exhausting.
And taking everyone with him at once felt like dusting .
Sans crashed into a snowbank after falling for what felt like forever, and he tried to scream through a mouthful of snow as he wearily reached around for Frisk and found only icy ground. Fat, heavy snowflakes fell around them in an almost blinding blizzard. Or perhaps the pounding in his head was keeping him from seeing straight, he didn't know and didn't care. He slipped and stumbled toward the dark figure in the snow, coughing and wheezing as he struggled to breathe. Either gravity had intensified or his legs were refusing to work, as he reintroduced his face to the ground several times before reaching them. He smelled dust, tasted it. He shouldn't have spent so much energy trying to irritate Gaster, it was stupid and impulsive, and now he was suffering the consequences. He hacked viciously for air as he grasped at the child in the snow, struggling to remain upright as the world rocked around him. There was simply
too much to process, too much flooding his mind and he couldn't think straight. All that mattered was ensuring that they were okay.
Frisk was saying something, but he couldn't tell what. Were they talking? Their lips were moving. His whole head was ringing, it was like an explosion had gone off next to him. He hardly even saw Papyrus stumbling through the snow, struggling to carry the white furred child in his arm and a half. He could only mutter nothings to himself and he hugged Frisk tightly. He was so worried, so sick, so afraid of losing them that it overwhelmed his mind for a moment.
"… Sans?" Frisk shivered in the cold, looking even paler than usual. Their face had taken on an ashy, gray color. Or was that just his vision? Everything looked blurry. Gray was creeping into his eye sockets, it was so hard just to focus.
"It's okay," Sans blubbered, trying with everything that he had to keep it together. He was so strained, so tired, so burned out and he just wanted to lay down in the snowbank with Frisk close to him and never get up again, but he had to keep going. Had to keep pushing himself to the brink. He had to make sure that they were away from him. He had to make sure that his family was safe. "Shh. It's okay.
It's okay b-baby. Shh, babybones," Sans was almost incoherent. "He's gone. Not again. It's okay. It's okay."
"Sans?" Papyrus knelt beside him softly as he tried to collect himself. "I-I have… so many questions."
Sans took a deep, shaking breath, closing his eye sockets for a few moments before cracking them open and staring about at their surroundings. They were in Snowdin, or at the very least close by. He was stupid, he was impulsive, he was such an idiot . Taking shortcuts like that, especially when he was exerting himself, was a surefire path to disaster. He was lucky he didn't teleport them all into solid rock. He just shook his head a couple of times and dragged himself wearily to his feet, Frisk helping him stand. Why were they the one again helping him, hadn't they just torn off a part of their soul like it was paper? Just when he thought he was getting away from seeing something horrifying and nightmarish for a while. Now that was a funny idea.
Papyrus wasn't the only one with too many questions. Nobody spoke as they trudged through the snow, and Sans fell a couple of times out of sheer exhaustion. Papyrus was quick to his side every time, repeating himself over and over again.
"Almost there," he said for the eighth time. "Almost there. Just hang on. I'm going to fix this. Just hang on. Almost there."
Sans could have cried he was so happy to see his old house again. That wooden log structure that he had grown so sick of seeing, the roof covered in snow. He never would have expected to be so overjoyed to see their old home. He pushed a couple of times at the door to no avail, stepping back a little when Papyrus nudged him to the side.
"I don't seem to have my keys," Papyrus grumbled. He sighed after a moment. Instead of fishing in his pockets, he just reeled back with a mighty heave and kicked the door open, the splintering of wood resounding through the empty town. "Humph. So much for 'reinforced'."
Papyrus carried the limp child inside with Frisk and Sans close in tow, and Sans almost collapsed right on the floor before Frisk caught him, nearly falling with him. He was just so tired. Had it always been this cold in their home? He hoped that Papyrus would get the heat going soon. Poor kid was shaking just as much as he was.
"… Sans," Frisk said quietly to him as he stood on quavering legs.
"I… I don't feel good."
"Nap," Sans said instantly, allowing Frisk to pull him by the hand to the couch. "Nap. Need nap. Both. Us. Need nap now."
He couldn't even form coherent sentences anymore, and as much as it bothered him to see that worried look on Papyrus's face, Sans just couldn't keep his aching eye sockets open anymore. The
pain was too much, he was so drained. Sans felt Frisk curl up next to him on the couch, and he was drifting away before he could even speak to them. To ask them any of the many, many questions that he had. He just needed rest. He needed to rest so badly.
He could still
- see that goddamned smirk. Flashes of red dancing before his eye sockets, a line running deeply across his burning chest. Ashes dancing through the air in the golden hall. Papyrus holding up his first plate of burned spaghetti, proudly showing it off to his brother. The king standing before a crowd of humans in a dark gallery. Frisk slipping through his fingers as he tried to hold on to them for dear life, feeling like he was being pulled apart like taffy from every direction. The sensation of losing all control as he fell through the dark, his body and mind of two separate entities altogether. He was losing himself a little bit at a time, being eaten alive by the swarming shadows that all seemed to click together like skeletal fingers-
Sans awoke to the sound of screaming.
And for once, it wasn't him.
He wasn't certain for how long that he had been out, but Frisk was still there, shaking in his embrace. He loosened his grip on them a little, not even realizing just how tightly he had been
holding on to them. They seemed to relax a little when he did so, looking at him worriedly.
"… Sans?" Frisk whispered, and was interrupted by another bloodcurdling, high pitched scream. Sans held up a finger for them to wait and wasted no time in throwing himself into a shortcut, dropping woozily onto his feet in Papyrus's bedroom. He was still exhausted, he knew he shouldn't have done that. He saw the naked child with his legs curled up to his chest, emitting the most ear piercing scream that Sans had ever heard. His green eyes were wide as saucers as a steady stream of terrified tears streaked down his face, and he was rocking back and forth as Papyrus tried to hold him.
Sans stared for a moment before digging in his jacket pockets for a few things that he would most certainly need, sticking them into his short pockets. He gradually pulled off his jacket through the constant screams of terror, slowly approaching the child as he removed his jacket. Asriel tried to back away in fear, still screaming at the top of his lungs as Papyrus held him. Sans leaned down and covered the goat monster with his jacket, but Asriel only kept crying and sobbing hysterically. Papyrus hushed him quietly and Asriel clung to him like he was the last person on earth. Papyrus only hushed him in a quiet tone to no avail, holding the rocking child softly and rubbing his back in little circles. Sans stayed for a short while before it became painfully apparent that absolutely nothing was going to make the constant terrified screams stop, and Sans couldn't handle trying not to cringe anymore. He nodded once to Papyrus to try to tell him what he meant, and his brother only nodded back once before turning his full attention back to the sobbing prince, holding him closely.
"… Sans?" Frisk asked worriedly from the couch as he wearily descended the stairs.
"C'mon, babybones," Sans said tiredly, letting them jump up and hug him around the middle. "We need ta talk."
Frisk looked at him worriedly, tucking their hands into their sleeves.
"I-I'm s-sorry…" they stuttered as he pulled them by the hand gently, getting them to follow him out the broken door. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! II didn't, I-I, please don't be mad… !"
"Hush," Sans pressed a fingerbone to their forehead, causing them to flinch. "You're not in trouble, babybones. I just don't wanna let Paps overhear. Not like he's likely to, what with, y'know…" he nodded his head back toward the house, where he could still hear that unearthly tortured screaming coming from. Frisk swallowed and looked as if they were going to be ill, pulling at their ears uncomfortably. "Man. That kid must be part machine or somethin' 'cause he's got lungs of steel."
"… C'mon, babybones. We gotta go somewhere."
"Where?" Frisk asked softly, but he only shook his head. They allowed him to lead them along the ic path leading out of Snowdin, and Sans wearily sat down on the side of the empty road overlooking the flowing river. There was nobody throwing huge ice chunks into the river anymore. The thought slowly wafted through his head, rather morbidly, that he had quite cheerfully killed himself here before and woke up the next morning reliving the same day all over again. He stared down the river, trying to clear his thoughts. There was probably nobody even working in the Core at this point. He wasn't surprised that monsters had all left. He wouldn't want to stay behind, either. Sans only sighed and held Frisk close as he dug in his pocket, rifling out a dog biscuit and his lighter. He lit it and took several long drags to still his trembling bones, passing it to Frisk when they held out their hand expectantly. He wasn't surprised that they needed it as well. He was surprised they weren't screaming just as much as Asriel was, he had watched them literally rip off a chunk of their soul. That was most certainly going to be burned into his nightmares for the rest of his life.
Like I need more for the fucking collection.
Snowflakes fell around them and Sans sighed again, looking down to Frisk as they finished off the biscuit, and odd, faraway look in their eyes.
"A'ight," Sans began quietly. "I want an explanation. Now."
"I… I don't know," Frisk shivered and hugged him for warmth. "I just… I'm sorry. I just… sort of, um. Did it?"
"Like… with the echo flower?" Sans asked in a low tone. Frisk swallowed again and nodded a couple of times, looking away. "How? How in the hell did you do that?"
Frisk wouldn't answer, just shivering in the snow and holding on to him. Sans had a few theories, none of which seemed to make much sense. And the ones that did make sense scared the marrow right out of him. No human could possibly do the things that Frisk could. Humans had lost their magic long, long ago.
Maybe it was because Frisk wasn't entirely human anymore.
And he was pretty sure he knew why.
Sans felt like being ill.
There was still the matter of Gaster to deal with. The self proclaimed 'god' had looked equally surprised to see what Frisk had done. Like he hadn't even considered the possibility that Frisk might want to save somebody. It was bizarre, to say the least. Gaster had been trying to talk Papyrus into something dangerous, he wanted them there for a reason. There was always a reason, god he hated him so much. Why couldn't the prick just stay dead? Why did he have to keep meddling with their lives, keep ruining their happiness? Couldn't he just stay happy for a little while? Was that really so much to ask for?
"… Sans?" Frisk mumbled quietly, and he petted their hair gently.
"I'm not mad," he said softly, trying to stay calm. He needed to stay calm. "I'm just… fuck me . I don't know how to deal with all this right now, that's all. I'll figure this out. Don't worry, babybones."
"Is he gonna be okay?" Frisk asked worriedly.
"Paps, or the freak?"
Frisk frowned deeply at him, their eyebrows narrowing dangerously.
"Don't give me that look," he said bitterly. "That… thing. That can't be who you think it is. You can't trust him. It's just… it's impossible. Gaster is fuckin' with us, trying to break us down somehow. He's a trap, I just know it."
"Sans," Frisk looked at him with a hurt expression.
"Seriously kid, quit lookin' at me like that," he shifted uncomfortably. "That… thing, that he used to be? You remember what he did to us, don't you? What he did to you ?"
Frisk looked away in shame, and Sans cringed deeply.
"Fuck," he sputtered, grabbing them by the shoulders gently. "I-I didn't mean ta - shit, shit, don't cry, it's okay babybones," Sans held the silently weeping child in his arms. "Shit, just-just… don't think about it. That's… that's all we can even do," Sans finished pitifully, wanting to cry at his own ineptitude and helplessness. But he couldn't. He couldn't break down in front of the kid. Not here. Not now. Not when he needed answers. He wanted to march back upstairs and strangle that little abomination and stomp in the dust.
"He-he didn't m-mean to…" Frisk said softly, wiping their eyes with their sleeve.
Bullshit .
Frisk flinched suddenly, as if he had said it out loud, and he had to clench his jaw to ensure that he hadn't actually said it out loud. He really was completely losing his mind. They had been having such a nice day. Everything was going to be okay. They were fine.
And then that unkillable crescent faced prick had shot it all straight to hell.
Sans sighed again and squeezed them close, holding the shivering child as gently as he could.
"It's gonna be okay," he promised quietly. "It's going to be alright, Frisky-bits. Just… just stay with me. Okay? I'm… I'm kinda scared shitless right now," Sans continued slowly. "I mean, I just… I just saw you fuckin' rip a part of your soul off, Jesus fucking Christ . Are… are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," Frisk mumbled into his shirt, clinging to him tightly. They couldn't sit on the cold ground any longer and clambered into his lap, shivering and shaking. He really shouldn't be letting them out in the cold for this long without warmth. But he didn't want them in the same house as that… thing, either. At least Papyrus could take care of himself, and he was still kicking himself for leaving him with what was probably a very traumatized child. Sans was afraid to ask them to draw their soul out again, despite how badly he wanted to see the damage for himself. He wanted to heal them, to hold them, to make them better and tell them that everything would be okay. He wanted to pretend that he wasn't so angry, though for what reason he could not ascertain.
They had pulled out their own soul. Not only that, they had torn part of it off. No monster he could imagine could do that. Certainly no human. But maybe Frisk wasn't really either. They had done magic.
What in the actual hell was this kid?
"… Come on, kiddo," Sans petted their hair gently after they had sat their for what felt like hours. "Let's go check up on Paps. I'll make you some hot chocolate. Okay, babybones?"
"Okay…" Frisk shifted tiredly in his lap, hugging him around the neck. "… I love you, Sans."
"I love you too, babybones. Let's get back inside before you become a Friskcicle."
Papyrus was sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hand when Sans closed the door behind them. His stub arm was scraping against the table over and over again, and Sans could have sworn that he was slowly etching something into the table as he did so.
"… Hey Paps," Sans greeted him quietly, letting go of Frisk as they ran up to hug him. "How you holdin' up?"
"He didn't have a soul."
"What?"
"When Dad brought him back," Papyrus repeated numbly, winding his stump down the wood grain. "He brought him back, without a soul. He… he was going to die."
"Gaster can't be trusted with anything," Sans said darkly, placing a hand on his shoulder as Frisk clambered up into the skeleton's lap.
"He was going to die," Papyrus let out a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with his gloved hand. "Why? Why would he do something like that, Sans? He promised. "
What was Sans supposed to tell him? That everything was just another experiment to Gaster? That he fed off of suffering like a sociopathic vampire? That he had entrusted himself to a demented abomination from beyond the veil of time itself?
"He… he must have known," Papyrus said suddenly, looking down to Frisk. "He… he must have. He knew that you would be there, too. So he must have known that Frisk would be there to save him. Just like they saved all of us! That-that must be it. N-Nyeh."
"Paps…" Sans said slowly, withdrawing and sighing. It wasn't long before he just gave up though. He was too tired to argue semantics with his brother. "Yeah. I'll… you know what, no, I can't. Fuck Gaster and the skeletal horse that he rode in on, he's an evil sonofabitch and I hope he gets his evil black soul ripped out."
Papyrus looked away from him awkwardly, frowning. Sans sighed again and began digging in the cabinets for mugs.
"… Makin' everyone some cocoa," Sans explained quietly. "It - he finally quit screamin'?"
"After you left," Papyrus said without looking at him, petting Frisk's hair with his remaining hand. "He's been… screaming himself hoarse for quite a while. I don't think that he-he even has it in him to scream any more. He's just… he's so afraid, Sans."
"Gee, I wonder why that could be," Sans said dryly as he began boiling water, pouring stale cocoa packets int the mugs. "It's almost like he doesn't want to be in the same house as the people that he brutally violated and murdered."
"What… Sans…?" Papyrus looked as if he wanted to turn away, to deny it, but Sans pressed on anyway.
"You weren't there," Sans said bitterly, slamming his fist down on the countertop and causing the mugs to jump a little. "When… when he…"
Sans had to cover his mouth to keep from being sick, the overwhelming vile feeling clawing through his stomach.
"The… the things that he did to us…" Sans continued quietly without looking at anyone. "That he did to Frisk. Right in fucking front of me. He's… he's an abomination, Paps."
"He's a child," Papyrus argued, because of course he would have to argue goddammit Paps why can't you just see reason for once?
Sans flinched at the bitterness of his own thoughts, his own intense anger directed at his brother. He didn't need to take it out on him. Not Papyrus. Not someone who didn't deserve that kind of anger. Papyrus was too good. He didn't deserve that. No, he would be better off taking it out on something that deserved it. Like that vicious little freak upstairs. That thing didn't deserve to breathe.
"He's… he's been… s-screaming… things," Papyrus said softly after a while of silence, and Frisk wordlessly hugged him. "I mean… god, Sans. I didn't think that it would ever stop."
"I'm… I'm gonna go get my jacket back," Sans pinched the bridge of his nostril bone before serving Frisk and Papyrus their steaming mugs. "I'll be right back."
Sans trudged up the stairs silently, the feeling of being watched something that he couldn't shake off. It wasn't him. He was just paranoid.
First time I've ever wanted to be paranoid.
Sans sighed and knocked once on Papyrus's bedroom door before swinging it open, swiftly shutting it closed behind him with a snap. Asriel was curled up under his jacket and staring with wide green bloodshot eyes at the wall from the corner of Papyrus's bed, slowly rocking back and forth. Now that Sans was getting a good look at him he could see the resemblance between Asgore and Toriel. Short, stubby little horns, long ruffled floppy white ears, a pointed little snout.
"… Hey," Sans said simply. It wasn't at all what he wanted to say. Not at all what he meant to say. But it would have to suffice.
Asriel only looked at him in terror, unable to back any further into the corner, although he tried regardless.
"Where's P-Papy-rus?" Asriel whispered in a raspy tone, and it was fairly evident that he really had screamed himself hoarse.
"He's with Frisk," Sans answered honestly.
For once.
"I'm sorry," Asriel wheezed in that weak little bleat. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"You should be," Sans said quietly. Asriel sobbed dryly and shook under Sans's jacket, shivering as if in cold, although it was plenty warm inside. He was debating heavily between just snapping the filthy creature's neck. He eventually sighed and rubbed the back of his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "We gotta talk."
"I'm sorry," he blubbered, fresh tears staining his face and leaking down his caprine face. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."
He didn't want to think. He didn't want to remember how it had been Frisk in his position, sobbing and pleading, looking so much like them that it made his soul hurt.
Sans let out a weary breath through his teeth. He was just so damned tired.
"You're a lot easier to talk to when you're not wailing like a banshee," Sans tried to say lightly, as calmly and as relaxed sounding as he could manage. "You got a real set o' lungs on ya, kid."
"I'm sorry," Asriel rocked back and forth, looking about a million miles away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry… !"
Sans was steadily finding it harder and harder to stay angry at him when he looked like that. Like it wasn't all just an act and he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike just like Gaster intended. But that didn't quite seem to add up, and he didn't like it.
Yeah. It's almost like he's an actual traumatized child or something.
Sans sighed again and ran a hand over the top of his head. It was just an act or something. The thing needed to die after he wrangled answers out of it. He felt like he could easily stab the little shit and feel nothing. He wanted to berate Flowey - Asriel - for what he had done. He wanted to shout, he wanted to rage and scream at him for the outright atrocities that he had committed, he wanted him to be judged . But it was getting harder and harder to do so, considering that he was contemplating blasting a sobbing child. Not like you've had any problem with that before
Sans cut off that train of thought before it could go anywhere. He shuddered a little and pinched his eye sockets closed for a few moments before he lost the nerve it had taken so long to work up. He was just so exhausted. What was he even supposed to do now? He had the king and queen's previously dead child huddled under his jacket in his brother's room. How was he supposed to explain that to them? One way or another though, it was inevitable. He wanted no sympathy for the creature. It brought back an unwanted sting of nostalgia. There again was that little spark in his chest. He couldn't just do what he always did and run away. And that was what he did, every time that he was confronted with something that he didn't want to face. He ran away, like the coward that he was. Why couldn't he have been made braver, like Papyrus? Papyrus wouldn't have run. Papyrus had stayed with him throughout his panicked screaming, and he had taken Frisk and run away. He should have been more like his brother. More like Frisk. A good person.
There couldn't be any more running from the one person that he could never escape.
He had to try.
"… Tell ya what, kiddo," Sans started softly after a while, not looking at him. "I sure would like to have my jacket back. So I'm gonna go grab you some spare clothes from my room. You don't gotta come outta here if you don't wanna, but you at least gotta get dressed. Can't go havin' a naked prince running around the place, folks might start to get the wrong idea 'bout ya. So I'm gonna go, and Papyrus is going to come back and stay with ya for a bit, if you want. Do you want to see Paps again?"
Asriel didn't speak, his lips tightly sealed, but he did give a single nod. God, what was he doing. He was sympathizing with this abomination now. The thing, the person who had murdered and tortured him, his babybones in front of him, his friends, his family.
Then again, he had forgiven someone else who had done pretty much the same thing. He really did have an extremely unhealthy attachment to anomalies in his existence. There was no way that he could actually help, even if he wanted to. And he didn't want to help him, he didn't want to want to help him. Sans was already brewing up deeply foul fantasies about how he was going to dust the brat. He was probably experiencing something akin to what Sans did after resets occurred. He could only imagine what it must have been like having a soul, or a partial one at least, after so long of living without one. Maybe that had been the partial cause for the ungodly screaming. How was he supposed to fix him?
He didn't care. He didn't want to care.
But of course there was that little spark in his chest that urged him on, pressed him against his own ideals. Papyrus wouldn't be conflicted like this. Papyrus would be a good person. Papyrus would do the right thing, like he always did.
… God help him, he was actually trying.
What in the actual fuck am I doing with my life.
"… Sit tight, kiddo. We'll bring you some cocoa. And after that, we need to have a little… chat ."
Asriel looked absolutely horrified at the proposition.
All things considered, Sans could live with that.