Do You Believe That Everyone Can Be A Good Person?

by add10

Sans is tired of the resets. He decides to do something about it to change things for the better. Everything just sort of goes downhill from there. Created By: AveragePotato

53. Chapter 53

Who Are You Really

Chapter 53: Who Are You Really

Sans stared up at his dark ceiling, clashing thoughts swirling around his mind like angry beasts. He took another long, heavy drag of the dog biscuit, letting it sit in his chest before he blow out a few slow, steady, silent smoke rings through his nostril bone. He lay with one arm tucked comfortably behind his head, and he closed his weary eye sockets for a few moments and let his writhing mind tend to itself. He felt a polite sense of disconnect, one that separated his thoughts from himself in the strangest manner that never failed to pique his attention just a bit. For now, he could just let his raging mind run its own course, do the damage and be gone from his life. For a while. He didn't want to think.

He didn't want to think about the splatters of red decorating the Judgment Hall.

He didn't want to think about the things that he had done.

He didn't want to think about losing his kid.

He didn't want to think about being asked to choose between his brother and his child.

All those thoughts brought friends, and they had a rave inside his mind so loud he was surprised his eyes weren't leaking color. He just wanted to make it all… stop .

And then he spotted the smiling figure in the corner leaning forward slightly, just barely concealed by shadow. Sans only flipped him the bird and closed his eye sockets. He couldn't care less if the old bastard wanted to spy on him, he was going to give him no attention whatsoever. He only had a certain amount of fucks to give, and he had run out not too long ago. Sans finished off his biscuit and disintegrated it with magic, staring at nothing as he sighed. He couldn't get the images out of his head no matter how hard he tried. The slashing, piercing dive of a sharpened knife. A little skeleton with a cracked hand crying on the ground. Papyrus's scarf in the snow. That damnable smirk . What he could still see, still remember so vividly when the experiments had very nearly driven him incurably mad. Perhaps he was crazy, he wouldn't doubt it after the things that he had seen. The void was a black abyss, but trying to look beyond something infinite is slightly harder than the average skeleton could manage. It was there, in that space between the emptiness and the physical structures of the world, that Sans remembered from the very first time that the laser had been burned into his being through his eye socket. Seeing what lied beyond what could not be reached, things that should not be described, lest they awaken from hearing their names. He shuddered quietly and rolled over, burying his head beneath his pillow.

He just wanted to sleep.

Sans was drifting between consciousness and sleep when he heard a slight rustling. He didn't bother looking up, his mind feeling heavy and full. He didn't want to be awake. He didn't want to be asleep, either. Those soul pounding dreams of a mattress on a cold floor, the rattling of chains

and faint, barely remembered dreams of pain and prolonged despair that clawed at him from the back of his mind. He dimly wondered whether Papyrus was leaving him a plate of spaghetti. He didn't particularly care for it, but it was the thought that counted. He didn't hear Papyrus say anything though. He did, however, feel a slight pulling in his chest, a strange, warm little tingle that felt familiar and unfamiliar all at once. There was a light, soft tussling of blankets as weight was slowly pushed down on the end of the bed, and Sans sighed quietly. He cracked an eye socket and stared through the dark at the little lump on the end of his bed. He gently pushed them with the flat of his foot, but they didn't respond. Sans sighed again and sat up, his head pounding furiously as he rubbed the back of his head.

"… Hey," he said softly. "You… you okay, kiddo?"

Frisk only whimpered quietly, hiding their head in their hands, curled up into the smallest ball that they could manage. They were trembling silently and Sans frowned, rubbing his tired eye sockets and ever so slowly scooping them up into his arms, leaning back against the wall with Frisk in his lap. They didn't move, didn't say anything at all, just shook and shivered in his grasp, hiding their face in their hands as their shoulders heaved.

"… Bad dream?" Sans whispered as he began to brush their hair with his fingers. Frisk whined pitifully and buried their head in his chest. Sans just stroked their head and hushed them softly, closing his eye sockets. He could relate, or at least he assumed that he could. He didn't want any more bad dreams, either. Frisk mumbled something that he couldn't hear and he just held them closely, giving the top of their head a tender kiss as he rubbed their back.

"C'mon, kiddo. It's okay. You wanna talk about it?"

Frisk only shook their head.

"… You sure?"

They whimpered again, pulling at their hair.

"Alright, okay. It's okay. C'mere, babybones," Sans pulled them into a tight hug as he closed his eye sockets. "I've got ya, buddy. It's all gonna be alright."

Liar.

Frisk fell completely still, and they ever so slowly looked up at him as if they wanted to speak, but only pulled away at the last second and hid their face against his chest. Sans went against his better judgment and let it go. It wouldn't do to keep pushing them for answers when they didn't want to talk. He just wanted to let them know that they were safe. That they were loved.

Sans sighed again as he leaned back against the wall with Frisk in his arms, and he slept like that for the rest of the night.

Sans awoke sometime around early morning from a whimpering sound, the sunshine peeking in curiously through the window. He sighed and rubbed the top of his pounding head, shifting a little. His throat felt dry, the magic in his mouth was rough and prickly, and his head was pounding. He was definitely hungover. Frisk mumbled something in their sleep, brows furrowed tightly as they shook. Sans held their shoulders as they lay atop him, clenching and unclenching his shirt as they fought their nightmare. Sans brushed their hair softly, ever so carefully shaking them back and forth, trying to bring them out of it gently. Whatever it was that they were seeing, it must have been bad, because Frisk was crying absolutely silently as they blinked awake, breathing in short, panicked little gasps.

"… You okay?" Sans asked quietly. Frisk rubbed their eyes furiously, as if embarrassed that they had been seen crying first thing in the morning. Frisk hid their face in their hands and Sans sat up, holding them in his lap and rocking them softly. "It's okay, babybones. Just a dream. Just a bad dream. It's okay, kiddo."

"Yeah," Frisk mumbled. "Just… just a dream."

"Tell me 'bout it."

"I… I can't," Frisk frowned, clinging tightly to him. Their hands found their way to his chest, gripping warmly to his ribs. His breathing hitched a little, but he didn't move.

"C'mon, kiddo. Leavin' me in the dark ain't helping anyone. Just… please, kiddo. It'll help if you get it off your chest."

Frisk looked down and away, ashamed and red in the face.

"Did you have a bad dream?" they asked quietly. Sans didn't particularly want to answer that. "… If you tell me, I'll… I'll tell you."

"… Alright," he shrugged eventually, trying to ignore the wildfire behind his eye sockets that was slamming against the inside of his head. He groaned and sat up a little straighter, taking a few slow breaths.

"I, uh…" Sans rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Saw some old stuff. Stuff I didn't want ta see again. Stuff that-that… isn't supposed to be seen."

"What do you mean?" Frisk asked somewhat sleepily, staring up at him. He glanced out the window at the glowing sun, basking in its warmth for just a moment, letting it draw him away from the dark dreams. The waking light of day felt so very far away.

"… I saw the in between," he said simply after a while, still staring out at the morning horizon. "Memories. The void. A space between space. Kinda like how the shortcuts work, but a little… further. A place where really big, really bad things live. Too full, too empty, too little, too much, I-I can't…"

Sans took a shuddering breath, pulling a hand over his eye sockets and breathing slowly. Frisk's hand found its way to his cheek, thumb brushing gently over bone as he sighed.

"Sorry kiddo," Sans shrugged, glancing away. "Don't wanna worry you or anythin'. So. Uh. You heard my part. Tell me what's eatin' ya, kid."

Frisk shifted uncomfortably, but he only petted their hair, slowly pulling the tip of their chin with his fingers.

"Come on, buddy. Spit it out."

"Funny," Frisk said bitterly in a voice just barely loud enough for him to hear. "Used to the opposite."

"What?"

"Nothing," they leaned up suddenly and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thank you for helping me sleep."

They started to shift away, but Sans grabbed them around the middle and made them squeak.

"Oh ho, no ya don't, squirt," Sans said firmly. "You ain't getting away that easy. C'mon. You said if I shared you'd do the same. So spill. You'll feel better if you talk about it."

"I-I d-don't…" Frisk murmured, rubbing their arms slowly and looking away, face flushed. "Can… can I have a d-doggie treat first? Please?"

"We are not bargaining over this," he held them gently, but strongly enough to keep them still. "Come on. Just tell me. I promise I'm not gonna tell."

"I would f-feel better if-if I got a treat first…" Frisk shifted in his lap until they were straddling him, pouting heavily. "Please…? I'll tell you. I'll be good…"

Say no.

Just say no.

Don't think about it.

Say no.

Say no.

Say no.

Fighting a losing battle here. Just don't use magic. Be decent for once.

"… Sure know how to pick your seating arrangements, huh kiddo," Sans said humorlessly. Frisk's fingers ghosted over his ribs and he had to bite back a noise, freezing in place.

"… Please," Frisk leaned forward until their lips were just barely brushing the side of his head. "I'll be good."

What had Grillby told him about dealing with an unruly child? There had been a segment on middle grounds. The bartender had put it oddly, 'the best compromises leave everyone pissed off'. Sans was most certainly pissed off at the moment, as well as feeling quite a few conflicting things that he was way too sober to be dealing with. He just had to stay absolutely stock still, forcing his breathing to slow. He ever so gradually reached out and grabbed Frisk's wrists, and his fingers trailed over their markings. His skeletal brows furrowed deeply as his thoughts assaulted him all at once, and he had to take a long, unsteady deep breath to try to keep it together. He had to keep it together. It was way, way too early in the day to be fucking up this badly. They were breathing heavily, their cheeks flushed.

"You can have half," Sans said in irritation, trying his hardest not to feel happy when their face lit up. He shouldn't be that thrilled at seeing them so overjoyed. Not over this. "Just… just quit-quit tryin' to grab me like that."

"You don't like it…?" Frisk pouted again, and Sans felt an ache in his soul that wouldn't go away.

"That-that's not… fuck me running," Sans let go of them and ran a hand down his face. "I thought we talked about that. Just… just tell me 'bout the dream, kiddo. You're killin ' me here."

Frisk flinched at his wording, and he internally kicked himself.

Sans reached out and brushed the hair from their eyes, but they still wouldn't speak. Sans sighed again and stuck his hand into his jacket pocket, rifling around for a moment until he found what he was looking for. He withdrew a biscuit and lit it, taking a long, heavy drag, never taking his eye sockets off of them. They looked at him pleadingly, but he only shook his head.

"Not 'til after you tell me," he held it just out of their reach, grinning. Frisk looked torn, bouncing a little and gripping his jacket loosely.

"Sans… !" Frisk stuck out their bottom lip. "Don't be mean."

"I'm not bein' mean," he shrugged, taking another long drag and letting the pounding pain in his head slowly slip away, along with his feeling of just about everything else. "You talk, I share. Doesn't get much simpler than that."

"D-don't make me beg like a doggie…" they frowned, brows furrowing. A small, dark little sliver of him wanted to make them though. That cruel little part of him that delighted in the idea, and it scared Sans that it was even a part of him at all. He shifted uncomfortably after a moment, wrestling the thought down as hard as he could.

"… W-woof."

Sans blinked, freezing.

"W-w-wo~ooof," Frisk whispered, their cheeks cherry colored as their eyes met his.

"Stop that," he said instantly, surprised that he could even hear himself over the panicked screaming inside his head.

"I'll be good," they wrapped their arms around his neck, brushing softly against his neck and making him shiver. "I'll… I'll be good. Wwoof."

"Nope," Sans said immediately. "Nope. Nope! Nope, no, not dealin' with this, whatever the fuck 'this' is. You're stoppin' that, you're stoppin' that right the fuck now."

Frisk cringed and leaned away a little, face full of shame. Of fear.

"W-what did I do…?" Frisk looked at him worriedly. "Sans? I-I'm sorry, I-I-I'll do better, I promise-!"

Frisk flinched hard when he reached out and wrapped his arms around them, careful not to burn them with the biscuit. His breathing was heavy and labored, and it took every single fiber of his being not to shout. He had to stay calm. He couldn't go letting loose right now. He needed to stay calm, had to stay in control. God it was too early for this. His thoughts were his enemy, he did not need to be wasting precious seconds about Frisk with floppy little dog ears or a cute little collar-

What is wrong with me.

What in the actual fuck is wrong with me.

He was so pulled in different directions that it strongly reminded him of the taffy-like yank of the universe just before a reset. He hated the feeling, he felt so vile, if he had skin he would be trying to pull it off just to get away from himself.

"… Frisk," Sans pulled away a while later, noting just how badly Frisk was shaking, crying silently. He brushed their tears away with his free hand, trembling, and held their cheek in his hand. "Hey. Look at me. You - are not - an animal . Okay? Just… please know that. You are not some-some kind of friggin' wild creature. You're a kid. You're a good kid, Frisk."

If he had hoped that his words would get through to them and somehow help, he was mistaken. Frisk only cried harder, utterly silently, little shoulders heaving as he held them close. They were so quiet that it disturbed him. He didn't like seeing people cry. He really didn't like seeing kids cry. And he absolutely loathed seeing Frisk cry. They were trying so hard to stay still, to be as quiet as they possibly could. He only silently passed them the biscuit as shaking hands met theirs, and they looked at him with teary eyed confusion for a moment before taking a long drag, coughing a little as they did so. He gently brushed their hair as they finished it off, hand shaking so badly that they almost dropped it a few times. Sans disintegrated it with a little burst of magic when they were finished, and although they had stopped silently sobbing their shoulders were still shaking terribly.

"… You wanna know?" Frisk murmured eventually, their eyes half lidded as they stared down at his chest, their eyes red from crying. "You really wanna k-know what I was dreaming about?"

"Yeah. I do," Sans ran his phalanges through their hair, unknotting it in several places as softly as he could. "You can tell me, kiddo."

"You… you aren't going to like it," Frisk warned him quietly.

"That's usually the way it is with nightmares. Right?" he shrugged, and Frisk bit their bottom lip and glanced back and forth, like they were expecting someone to grab their shoulder.

"I… I d-dreamed a-about," they started slowly, closing their eyes and leaning into his shoulder until their voice was slightly muffled, like they didn't like speaking it too loudly. "I… I dreamed about the-the bad place."

He wasn't too surprised that they would dream about the Judgment Hall. Hell, he had nightmares about it constantly, too. His own pain, his loss, his despair at never seeing his brother again, and the pure, overwhelming, unadulterated rage . Sans did not like that all of that pent up anger was a part of himself. The sight of them crumpled on the floor was still in his eye sockets almost every time that he closed them. But how was he supposed to tell them that?

"I'm… I'm so sorry," Sans whispered at last, his voice feeling rough. "I, uh… I get dreams about the hall, too."

Frisk just glanced at him in confusion, wiping their eyes dizzily and frowning.

"N-no. The other place." Sans blinked.

"You mean from… from the…?" he gently brushed a hand over their back, making them shiver a little. Frisk swallowed hard and nodded a couple of times, and his head felt numb. God he was stupid . Of course they would have scary dreams about something like that.

Had he ever even asked them before what their dreams were about? He couldn't remember a time when he did. He had just… assumed. Assumed that they were about him, because god he really couldn't get any more narcissistic.

"The bad place," Frisk mumbled, still not meeting his eyes. "I… I remembered… I-I d-dreamed, I-I… I was b-bad, so-so I got punished real, real hard. It-it hurt. It still hurts, I still-" they let out a gasp and covered their eyes with the palms of their hands, clamping their mouth tightly shut.

"Hey. Hey, hey, it's-it's okay," he tried to still their shaking in a light hug, but they just wouldn't stop. "C-c'mon. Please, please babybones. Don't cry. It's okay. You're here. And I'm here, and-and everybody is okay, and everything is gonna be alright, I promise, I swear to god, just-just please. Please don't cry. It… it hurts so much to see you cry. So please, just…" Words failed him as he held them close, watching as they fell completely still. He carefully lifted their chin up with his fingers to look at them, and was met with the absolutely bizarre sight of watching their eyes flicker from brown to red in rapid succession, like there was some kind of internal war raging within them that he couldn't see. That, or they were part traffic light. Sans assumed it was the former.

They squeezed their eyes shut for a moment, returning the look with the same chocolate brown eyes that he had grown so accustomed to.

"C-Chara wants me to tell," they said with some difficulty. "I… I don't wanna talk 'bout it. But they want me to. So… so p-please don't get mad."

"I won't be mad," he said as he softly brushed the hair from their face. "Hey. You trust me. Right, babybones?"

"… Yeah," Frisk said after a moment, closing their eyes as expression drained completely from them. "I… I trust you."

Frisk was silent for a long time, and Sans wondered whether they were going to speak at all. Eventually, however, they sighed heavily and rubbed their eyes, letting out an unsteady breath.

"I dreamed that I was getting hurt again," Frisk began in such a soft tone that he had to lean in a little to hear them properly. "That… that I didn't get out. Not-not really. That getting away was-was just a dream. It felt so real. Like… like I was still really there. Except this time you were there, too."

Sans felt a slight chill begin to settle over his marrow.

"I… I d-dreamed that-that you… wanted to hurt me, too. And-and you, and y-y-you, u-um… !"

Frisk's face flushed and he hushed them quietly, drawing them into a tight, soft hug.

"Listen to me," Sans said firmly. "And you listen real good. I am never - ever - going to hurt you, or let you get hurt, not ever again. Never. Do you understand?"

Frisk made a quiet, heartbreaking mewling sound, covering their face with their hands. Sans felt his soul melt a little as they hugged him, and he slowly traced circles over their back with the palm of his hand.

"Nobody is gonna hurt you," Sans whispered to them, feeling far more awake than he wished that he was. God, what they must have been going through. What they had gone through. It was too much. It was all just too much, and he wanted the rest of the world to just stop being for a while so that he could just sit with his kid and hold onto them, finally get it through their head that they were loved. But maybe they would never understand what he wanted them to. Maybe there would just be a part of them that was afraid of him for the rest of their lives, and that thought hurt, it hurt so much. It was like having a rail spike driven into his chest, it ached and burned horribly, but he didn't let go. He couldn't let go. They were his little light in a dark world, he loved them more than his own life. They

were a good person, they had a good heart, a good soul. And it drove him absolutely crazy that no matter how hard he tried, he could never hold a candle to them.

"… I love you, babybones," Sans said after a while, kissing their forehead and drying their tears with the sleeve of his jacket. Man, he really needed to wash that thing. Sleeping in it certainly wasn't doing it any good. "And I want you to know that. I just… I just want you to know, to understand, kiddo. I swear to whatever god there is that I will protect you as best I can. I'm… I'm so, so sorry. That… that I hurt you. That you've been through so much. You are such a strong kid, Frisk. You're the strongest little human that I've ever met," he brushed the hair from their eyes again, planting a soft kiss on their forehead.

"Maybe… maybe I'm not," Frisk's voice was full of poison. Sans did not care for the sound.

"Not what, kid."

"Human," they said simply, looking away. "That's… they told me that.

'Cause… 'cause I'm n-not. That I wasn't even human anymore. That I wasn't a-a real person."

"But you are," Sans said a little too forcefully, making them flinch again. "You are real, you are human."

"But monsters are better," Frisk said softly, staring down at their hands. "Monsters are so good. They love so much. They're… they're better people than humans."

Sans felt as if he had just been punched in the head. He would have preferred it, actually.

"So what about Blake?" Sans asked after a moment. "Or Richard?

Or the quack - I mean, Doctor Johar? Jojo? What about all those people that care about you, huh? Humans aren't… they aren't bad. And you aren't bad, don't you ever think that. Just… don't… don't lose hope," he said somewhat desperately, his voice cracking. "Please, oh god don't be like me, I am frickin' beggin' ya here, kiddo, don't-don't be like me ."

"Did… did you lose hope?" Frisk frowned slowly. Sans didn't answer immediately and their fingertips brushed softly over his cheek as they leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, burying their face in his shoulder.

"… You gave me somethin' to hope for," he replied after a painfully long stretch of silence. "I… I gave up. I just threw in the towel. But you… you kept goin'. Even after everything, even after I…" Sans's voice failed him for a moment. "You gave me hope. You, and Paps, you two are the best thing in my whole life. You make me wanna get up in the morning. You make me wanna go out and look at the stars. You make me want to-" he almost said live again, and shook his head. "You're important. You are the brightest little light in my life, my little ray of sunshine. And I love you, so goddamn much. And nothing is ever, ever gonna change that."

Frisk sighed quietly and rubbed their forehead against his, closing their eyes. After a moment they flickered open and Sans saw the bright red of their irises that were so vibrant that they almost glowed. They just stared and stared, he couldn't read their expression at all, and it bothered him.

"… What are we?"

"What?" Sans blinked.

"What are we, Sans?" Chara asked in a low tone, their face suddenly riddled with confusion. "I mean… after what you did to my - to our soul - what are we?"

"You mean you and me, me and Frisk, or you and Frisk, or-?" "Yes," Chara responded simply.

"Smartass," Sans ruffled their hair with a slight grin. Chara only sighed again with a little frown.

"I just… I'm so confused," they said at last, finally meeting his gaze. "Why do you do this to us? What do you want from me? What is it that I'm not giving you? I mean, I c-could, um…"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Sans said without even so much as blinking. This was not a good place for them considering that kind of train of thought, one that he did not want to board any time soon. But a dark, cruel little sliver of his mind reminded him that there was always the chance that he might, and god how he hated himself for so much as having the thought. "Just… I don't want anythin' from you, kid."

"I don't believe that," Chara's brows furrowed. They really did look a little bit different from Frisk whenever they were speaking. They looked so much more irritated, so much angrier than Frisk. Then again, when was the last time that he had seen Frisk get genuinely angry? Could they even get angry? That was an odd potential experiment with a myriad of possible results.

And then he instantly cringed hard at the thought, kicking it away as violently as he could. He wasn't like him . He actually cared about people.

Right?

… Right ?

"… Sans?"

"Yeah," the lights in his eye sockets flickered back into existence. "Sorry. Just, uh… s-sorry. Needed a second to catch up there, what'd you say?"

"What do you want?" Chara gripped him by the shoulders, readjusting themselves in his lap and leaning in toward his face. He could smell their hair, they probably needed a bath just about as much as he did, they were so close and god he was uncomfortable why weren't they moving.

"I don't want anything," Sans said simply.

"Bullshit," they scowled at him. Their hands ran slowly over his shoulders, trembling and shaking as they wound up to his neck, ever so slowly wrapping their fingers around his throat. His breathing caught for a moment from the sensation, a light dusting of blue crossing his features as he stared at them.

"… So what is it that you want, kid?" Sans asked softly, not bothering to move as he flipped the question right back around at them. "What is it that I'm not givin' you?"

"I-I don't…" Chara looked back and forth awkwardly before turning their attention back to him, nostrils flaring. Their grip on his throat tightened a little with their frown, but the edges of their lips slowly, ever so gently began to twitch upward into a sort of warped smile. One that he had seen before. One that he never, ever wanted to see on Frisk's face again. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and he had to fight against the sudden surge of anger that flooded his bones from seeing that look. It must have shown on his face, however, because Chara recoiled suddenly and tucked their hands into their armpits, looking away from him fearfully. Sans let out an unsteady breath that he didn't realize that he had been holding. Chara closed their eyes for a few seconds and when they reopened them, he saw the terrified chocolate brown of Frisk's eyes darting back and forth over his face nervously, awaiting something.

Like they were awaiting judgment.

"… Hey."

"Y-yeah, Sans."

"You want some waffles?" Sans tried to ask in a relaxed tone, even though his bones were rattling a little. If he had nerves, they would be completely shot by this point. And he hadn't even gotten out of bed yet, oh dear god he was not prepared for today. "C'mon. Let's go make you some waffles. With chocolate chips in 'em that you two like so much. And syrup, lots of syrup."

"S-Sans…?"

"Up you get," Sans picked them up in his arms and caused them to squeak in surprise, clinging tightly with their arms around his neck. Sans marched somewhat woozily out his bedroom door, not even bothering with the stairs as he took a shortcut directly into the kitchen and deposited them into one of the wooden chairs.

"Sans, you're-you're being…" Frisk started uneasily, but he only hushed them.

"Ayy, none o' that. You want some eggs? We got eggs. How 'bout a side of eggs with some bacon? You like 'em sunny side up or scrambled? The eggs, not the bacon. I've never tried scrambling bacon, wanna find out how it tastes?" he was rambling at this point, but he didn't care. His mind was abuzz and his thoughts were running rampant so violently that he couldn't even form coherent thoughts. Which left him wondering precisely how he was managing to do anything at all, it felt like he was on autopilot. He could still feel their hands wrapped around his neck.

The same hands that had cut down the greatest warrior known to monsterkind.

The same hands that had snuffed out countless lights from the world.

The same hands that had been covered in his brother's dust.

Sans's hand slammed hard into the stove suddenly, making Frisk jolt in shock, ducking in their chair and looking ready to bolt at a moment's notice. It hurt, it ached that they were afraid of him.

But maybe that was just the smart thing to do.

"… Saw a bug," Sans lied quietly, pulling ingredients out from the fridge. "Hey, you know how to make coffee, kiddo?"

Frisk just shook their head nervously, not looking away from him.

"I'll show ya how. It's pretty easy ta brew. And I dunno 'bout you, but I could really use something to wake me up."

Sans didn't want to admit just how badly their description of the dream had frightened him. He didn't want them to ever think that he might hurt them. Not them. Not ever. Especially not like that. His kid, his poor little babybones. They shouldn't have to be afraid. They should be safe, comfortable, happy. He didn't want to admit just how much he related to their dream, either. Feeling as if everything was just an illusion, watching it all get ripped away back to some nightmarish reality from which there was no escape. The thought shook him to his very core. The fact that Frisk shared in that silent horror was… ever so slightly comforting, knowing that he wasn't the only one, and he loathed himself for thinking that way. But what they said had shaken him from his stupor, even if only for a little while. It was a wake-up call to action. He needed to make things better for them. This day was going to be all about them, no matter what. He had to make things better.

And if he wanted things to change, then by god he was going to make them change.

Maybe it was time to have a little talk.

Coffee did not take long to make.

Sans even got Frisk to try a bit of it, and they stuck out their tongue in repulsion.

"You know, it tastes better with sugar," Sans motioned lazily to the containers on the table. Frisk didn't bother with it though, just pushing the coffee away from themselves with a frown.

"Maybe with chocolate…" Frisk mumbled.

"Bleh. Chocolate, with coffee? Who would do that?" Sans grinned at them, nodding for them to follow him to the living room. He plopped down onto the sofa with a sigh, and Frisk settled beside him with and curled up comfortably next to him, leaving him with a strange expression on his face.

He had received the call not too long ago, but that didn't mean that he was looking forward to the visit. He briefly wondered if Asgore would be accompanying the queen this time. At least it had finally stopped raining. Sans sighed and glanced out the window, watching as dew condensed on the glass. He rubbed the top of Frisk's hair as they watched some early morning cartoon about trains that clearly neither of them were interested in, and it wasn't long before a familiar rapping came at the front door. He stood carefully and stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door.

"Who's there?" he asked after the polite knocking came again. "Hatch," he heard the slight titter of a reply.

"Hatch, who?"

"Bless you, may I come in?" Toriel beamed at him as he swung open the door, unable to contain his dopey grin.

"Hey Tori," Sans only spared a brief glance to the child clinging to her hand and hiding behind her. "Heyya, kid. Good to see ya walkin' around, finally. You look like somethin's got your goat."

Asriel frowned at the pun and didn't answer him, just dancing awkwardly from foot to foot. They wouldn't meet his gaze, but Sans shrugged it off.

"C'mon in. Me an' the kiddo were just havin' coffee, can I get you any, Tori?"

"That sounds lovely, perfect for the morning grind," she responded warmly, and he closed the door behind them. The moment that Frisk saw that Toriel had entered they bolted off the couch and wrapped their arms around her legs, letting out a muffled, high pitched noise of delight.

"Hello to you too, my child," Toriel patted their head kindly with a small smile, and Frisk was absolutely beaming up at her. They took Asriel wordlessly by the hand, leading the slightly confused child to the couch and pulling him up beside them. Asriel stumbled and looked to his mother for help, but she was already following Sans into the kitchen, royal garb flowing behind her. Sans wondered briefly if she had to wear that every day. He had seen her in a sundress before. Maybe she just preferred the robes. Or maybe it was just out of habit. He would have to ask sometime.

Sans sat tiredly at the table and had to resist the urge to rub his tired eye sockets, wordlessly pouring the queen a cup of hot coffee. Sans could hardly believe that this was actually happening, he had the urge to pinch himself. Having coffee with the queen of all monsters like it was no big deal. His existence really had gone off the deep end at some point, and it bothered him that he couldn't for the life of him pinpoint where.

"I trust that all is well with the little one…?" Toriel began politely, taking a small sip of her coffee and turning the cup around in her comparatively large paws.

"Yeah," Sans lied instantly, feeling like scum. "I-I mean, uh. Not-not exactly…?"

"So which is it?" Toriel cocked an eyebrow slowly, and he felt himself begin to sweat. He was being stupid, his mind was still flashing to the events of the early morning, he had to shake it off.

"Just-just some bad dreams is all," Sans shook his head fiercely. "Kiddo can't sleep too good."

"I fear that my Asriel suffers from something similar," Toriel said quietly. "He… he still will not speak to us. Even when-when he awakens from-from these… terrible night terrors," she explained, and it finally dawned on Sans just how exhausted that she looked. He vaguely wondered whether or not she was even sleeping at all, trying to take care of Asriel. He could relate. He was tired. He was so tired, and he considered if Frisk was just as weary as he was. He could hear them talking softly from the other room, but couldn't make out what was being said.

"To be truthful," Toriel began quietly. "I was… greatly hoping that your brother would be here."

"He's out with a friend," Sans explained lowly. "He should be back soon. The kid?"

She nodded once.

"He… whenever he speaks, he only asks for Papyrus," she continued, looking away. "I just… I just wish that he would talk to us. The only reason he left the room at all was to see him."

"So what kind of night terrors are we talkin' about?" Sans asked gently. He wanted to help her. She looked so burned out, it hurt to see. It was bad enough seeing that slowly growing despair in the mirror, but to see it on a woman that he cared so much about was just painful. He wanted to help her, but he didn't even know how to do that.

"He… he wakes up screaming," Toriel rubbed her tired eyes, and Sans saw the bags beneath her eyes and felt another twinge of sympathy. "These… these horrible dreams that do this to him, he will not speak to me about. Not to Asgore. Not anyone," she said somewhat bitterly. "I cannot tell exactly what they are about, but he keeps saying something about flowers, I-I cannot bear to see my child in such pain," she carried on with a worried glance back at the living room. "Please. He will speak to you and your brother. If-if there is even a slight chance, maybe…"

Sans sighed quietly, rubbing a hand over the top of his head.

"Whoo, boy. Okay. Okay, so…" Sans started as he rubbed his cheeks, trying to wake up fully. "Okay. So, uh, I think I can gather what he's having dreams about. I didn't - I really, really didn't wanna tell you 'bout this, but I'm pretty sure I know what's eatin' him."

"And how would you know this?" she asked quietly. "What is it that I am not privy too, Sans?"

Sans frowned and creased his skeletal brows, staring down at his drink. He really needed something stronger, but he was already hungover to begin with and it was way too early to start drinking. That didn't stop him from badly wanting to. Maybe he had a problem.

"I…" Sans started uncomfortably. "I told you 'bout my dad. Right?"

"It was not much of an explanation, no," she frowned. "Asgore may be content to know that Asriel is-is back, after so long. But I want to understand," Toriel took a slow sip of her coffee, never taking her eyes off of the skeleton seated across from her. "I want to understand, Sans. I feel there is so much that no one is telling me. Please, my friend. I… this is all that I ask of you. I just want to understand."

Sans sighed again and closed his eye sockets for a moment. His mind was heavy. Toriel would be so much unhappier just knowing. But he owed her an explanation, didn't he?

"Your kid…" Sans started awkwardly, casting a glance toward the quiet living room. "He… used to be a flower."

"… I'm sorry, what," Toriel blinked at him. Sans took in another long breath, not wanting to throw Alphys under the bus. They had discussed the experiments in so many different timelines, he knew far more about the damned weed that he ever wanted to.

"He… his dust spread on flowers. Right?" Sans said carefully. He didn't want to bring up her son's death, to call it a touchy subject was a massive understatement. "So, uh. There were some… experiments done. On injecting flowers with DT - with determination. Highly concentrated amounts of it. Pure. Unfiltered. That, combined with his dust, resulted in a soulless creature with all of his memories. He was an unfeeling, manipulative abomination," Sans explained as gently as he could. "And he tried to change that by stealing human souls. He was stopped by my bro. We thought that he was gone for good."

"A… flower," Toriel held her hand over her mouth, brows furrowed in thought.

"My dad - Gaster - he brought 'em back," he continued quietly, not looking up from his drink. "And, uh. He brought him back. I'm… I'm not really sure how. But he brought him back soulless, so he-he… he almost dusted. Right there on the spot. But Frisk, they…"

Sans froze, uncertain of how to continue. He had to phrase his words very, very carefully. He did not need to let Toriel know about the bond, and he felt so vile, so manipulative that it made him sick with himself. The poor woman already looked traumatized as it was.

"Frisk… tore off a chunk of their soul," Sans recalled just how unexpectedly surprised Gaster had been. "They gave it to Asriel to save him. But ya already know that part. I can't say I'm surprised you'd have questions. You took a look at his soul, yeah?"

"Of course," Toriel nodded after a moment. "I just… none of this makes sense. How could little Frisk even do something like that?" "They're a special kid," he shrugged.

"That does not even begin to describe them," she shook her head. "I do not understand. To do something like that would require magic, and… how could Frisk possibly do that?"

Sans began to sweat heavily.

"You… you think that they're, uh…" he started uneasily. "I-I mean, wouldn't be the first time a human did something crazy with magic."

"But humans have not had magic for ages…" Toriel mused quietly. Sans was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute. "I thought magic had left human's blood. How is such a thing even possible?"

"Beats me," he shrugged again. "They're a really special kid.

Humans can do crazy things when they put their minds to it."

Sans didn't want her to know. He didn't want her to find out what he had done, oh god he didn't want her to find out. She would never, ever forgive him. Hell, she might even just dust him on the spot. He understood. He'd deserve it. Sans sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow with his jacket sleeve, turning back to his coffee. He really needed something stronger. A bit of the hair of the dog that bit him, perhaps. He needed a smoke. He needed something, he just felt like something was missing. His hand wandered to his chest and he felt that fleeting little spark, and shivered a little. He could sense Frisk not too far away, but he wanted them close. How could he even explain something like that to the queen? How would she ever understand without wanting to absolutely demolish him?

"Tell me more about this flower," Toriel asked in a low tone. "To think that my son was trapped in an unfeeling form… gods. He must have been so unhappy. And I… I did not even know. Why… why did he not come to me?"

"I can… I can talk to him, if you want," Sans said after a moment. "I can try. I mean, Paps will be home soon, he just had a sleepover with Blake to watch some movies. But he should be here soon. I can't… I can't guarantee anything though."

"Thank you, my dear friend," Toriel said softly, and he felt filthy. He didn't deserve a look that kind, that hopeful.

"… Sure does rain here an awful lot," Sans glanced out the window at the slightly cloudy skies, with sunshine just barely peeking through. "Nice day though. Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming."

"Sans?"

"I'll… I'll talk to the kid," Sans stood slowly, and Toriel just watched him. "I'll see if I can get him to open up. Probably just gonna be like last time, though. I, uh… I know a human that might be able to help. A head doctor, real nice gal. JoJo, her name was. Maybe me an' Paps could take F- I mean, Asriel to go see her. See if we can get inside that noggin of his and help him a bit."

"Thank you so much," Toriel bowed her head a little to him. "I-I was… I admit that I had grown fearful. I am not certain of how to help him if he will not even speak to me. I cannot help but wonder if perhaps it is my fault for not-not trying hard enough to save him the first time. And to think that I have been given a second chance, to have him back after all this time-" she choked a little, rubbing her eyes. "I am sorry. I-I do not mean to grow so emotional."

Sans placed a hand on her shoulder, meeting her eyes.

"It's all good, Tori," Sans said softly. "Just, uh… gimme a minute. Can't say I'm a miracle worker or anything."

"Funny you should say that," she said with a wry little smile. "All things considered."

"I really am not the person you should be thanking," he replied firmly. "I'll do whatever I can. I just can't make any guarantees."

Toriel quietly thanked him again, but he couldn't bring himself to respond. He trudged to the living room and spotted Frisk on the couch with Asriel, the prince sitting with his head in his hands as Frisk ever so gently brushed their fingers through his tuft of hair. Sans sighed and dropped onto the couch beside them, sinking a little into the plush furniture.

"Ayy, kiddos," Sans forced a small grin, trying to appear relaxed with his arms behind his head. "What'cha watchin', here?"

"It's a television show about special superheroes made of gems," Frisk explained quietly, holding Asriel's hand, although the prince didn't move or speak. "It's really good."

"They're made of rocks, huh?" Sans winked at them. "Finally, I can share that sediment."

Frisk tittered softly, but Asriel only groaned.

"So, uh…" Sans shifted a bit, reclining a little to look more comfortable even though he was completely on edge. "How you holdin' up, buddy?"

"Is Papyrus here yet?" Asriel pulled his hands away from his eyes, and it occurred to Sans just how exhausted he looked. There were deep bags under his eyes, lines worn on his face. He looked so tired. He was still distrustful of him, expecting him to turn on them all at any moment, but Sans pushed the thought away. The prince looked ready to dust at the first stiff breeze.

"Nah. He'll be here soon though," he gave the prince a small smile. "But, y'know, he's not the only skeleton that you can talk to. I'm right here for ya, bud."

Asriel only stared at him, slight confusion crossing his face.

"… Why?" he asked after a moment. "Why do you even care ?"

He almost said I don't out of spite, and Sans had to kick the thought away before he could respond. He really, really needed to keep better control of his mouth. He couldn't go around being so impulsive, he needed to gauge his words carefully.

"You've been through some stuff," Sans said simply. "Just want you ta know. I'm here for you. Paps is too, and Frisk. And your parents. They're… they're really worried about you," he continued lowly. "You, uh… you don't look like you've been eatin' much."

"Doesn't matter," Asriel grumbled, hiding his head in his hands.

"Doesn't matter. Nothing matters. You don't get it. It's… it's kinda funny. I thought that you of all people would be one to get it that nothing matters."

Sans sighed quietly and reached out for him, and he flinched. Sans only patted the top of his head, turning in the seat a little and staring at him.

"Buck up a little, kid," Sans tried to say with a grin, but his weak facade was already cracking. "Don't go givin' up just yet. You get what most people never do. A second chance."

"And I don't deserve it," Asriel scowled, rubbing his weary eyes. Frisk just held his hand a little tighter, looking at him with worry. "I… I shouldn't be here."

"Hey, c'mon, kid. You're always welcome in the Skeleton household," he said with a wink.

"I mean I shouldn't be alive."

"Don't ."

Sans blinked, surprised at the unexpectedly stern tone emanating from Frisk.

"Don't you dare," Frisk said firmly, forcing him to look at them with his chin in their hands. Asriel stared at them awkwardly, unable to look away. "Don't you say things like that. I didn't do what I did for no good reason. Everyone can be a good person if they just try. So if you just give up, what did I even do that for?"

Asriel didn't seem to have a good response. Sans didn't either.

"So don't be sad," Frisk said a little more gently, holding his face softly in their hands. "Please, Asriel. People really care about you. I… I know that sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it's really, really hard to keep going. Sometimes it hurts more than anything. But you can't give up. Please. You have a chance to start again. With people that love you," Frisk pulled the blushing prince a little closer. "So don't give up. I know sometimes it feels like the whole world is out to get you. But if you just quit, then…" their brows furrowed in concentration, tilting their head as if hearing something that Sans couldn't. "… You're special, Asriel. You have a chance to try again. A second try. So don't give up hope."

"But-but I-I-I…" he sputtered, looking back and forth between the skeleton and the human. His

head bowed in disgrace and shame, tears falling. "I… I hurt so many people. I'm… I s-shouldn't b-be… still there, still there, never left, still there, with-with the p-petals, and I-I… !"

"Kid. Kiddo, breathe," Sans reached out to pat his head, and he flinched hard.

Sans wondered briefly if what portion of a soul that Asriel had could possibly crack, because he was certain that he was watching it happen. Asriel broke down at last and hugged Frisk tightly, sobbing quietly into their shoulder. Sans held them both close and sighed, rubbing Asriel's back in concentric circles as Frisk murmured softly to him. This kid definitely had some issues. Sans was really missing Papyrus by this point. His brother always knew exactly what to do, the right thing to say, how to be a good person. He was still in a state of shock that Frisk had even spoken so much, it was not what he was expecting. He wished that he could be as comforting as his brother, but all he could do was hold them and let Asriel cry it out. Sans wanted to hate him. He wanted to hate him so badly for the things that he had done as a flower. But that longing was getting further and further away the longer that he sat there with them, just holding them close. God, his kid really was the strongest, kindest, sweetest little human ever. His kid. He felt a bit overprotective as Asriel hugged them, burying his face against their shoulder as he shook like a leaf in the wind. He glanced over to Frisk and saw their eyes flash red for just a moment, a worried look crossing their features. He just nodded once. Chara was still there. He wondered briefly just how badly they must have wanted to speak to him, why they still hadn't. It must have been difficult for them. But no matter how rough it got, Sans wasn't going to give up. He was going to be there, he was going to be there for his kid, and, hell, even Asriel. He was going to be there every step of the way.

No matter how long it took, even if he had to do it just one little step at a time.

He was determined.

Even though the sun was out, there still loomed bloated gray clouds on the horizon, fat with the promise of rain. Sans stared out the window for a while, sitting between Asriel and Frisk with both of them in his arms. Frisk was absolutely obsessed with the television cartoon and kept trying to explain how rock people functioned, but Sans was only half listening. Toriel stood quietly in the doorway with her cup of coffee, simply watching them. Sans really didn't like the feeling of being watched.

"Yeah, but how does it even work?" Sans shrugged, nudging Asriel slightly in the process and making him frown. "They just kinda squish together into a bigger person?"

"It's way more complicated than that," Frisk said eagerly, tearing their eyes away from the screen to look at him. "They're, like… really together. Like, um… being a new person, but with both of them together."

"Still don't get what the hubbub is," Sans grinned down at them. "It's not a bad show. I guess I'm just of two minds about it. Kinda like them, eh?"

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Asriel grumbled. It was the first time in a while that he had spoken, and Sans didn't want him to fall completely silent again. He could feel Toriel's ears perk up at the sound of his voice, but she didn't say anything.

"Sure you don't want a seat?" Sans shifted on the couch, looking up at the queen. "Not exactly a queen size bed, but we can make room."

"I would loveseat to," Toriel grinned, and Sans couldn't help but chuckle. "But I am afraid that I am just a little too hefty to fit."

"Oh, nonsense," he moved over on the couch, picking up Frisk and setting them in his lap so that there was room. He patted the seat with a smile, and Toriel sighed finally and sat with them."Too hefty my foot. You're the perfect size, Tori."

"Oh, you flatterer," she rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her drink.

"Ayy, you know it. You know what they say, good looks n' flattery will get you anywhere."

"So which one of us is the good looking one?" she winked at him.

"I'll give you a hint," he winked back. "She should be in an oven, 'cause she's a cutie-pie."

"Oh my god stop," Asriel hid his burning face behind his hands. "That's my mom, just… come on," he whined.

"Whassa matter, kiddo?" Sans didn't bother to hide his smirk. "Somethin' got your goat?"

"The worst," he seethed quietly. "You are literally just the worst ."

"Asriel, don't be rude," Toriel brushed his hair softly, and he cringed as if he had just been struck.

"S-sorry, Mom."

"It's alright, my child," her expression softened, and she pulled him into a light hug. Her mood seemed to have gone in the complete opposite direction ever since he had started speaking again, even if it wasn't quite what he used to be like. "I'm just… I'm so happy to have you back. I have so many things that I want to tell you, so many things that I wish I had, I-I…" Toriel choked up a little and wiped her eyes, and Sans felt Frisk shift in his lap to give him a hug.

"One step at a time, Tori," Sans said softly, taking her hand in his. "You, uh… You okay?"

"Fine," she said, sounding as if she most certainly was nothing of the sort. "I am… I am fine."

Papyrus still hadn't answered his messages, but that was fine. For just a while, Sans was content to sit with them and enjoy a soothing cup of coffee.

It lasted for only a short while before Papyrus kicked in the door, out of breath, holding the limp, bloody form of Blake in his arm and a half, eye sockets wild with panic.

"If you don't mind," Papyrus said through clenched teeth. "We've got a bit of a problem ."

Sans was off the couch in a heartbeat, his soul pounding furiously in his chest as he fought back a scream that was clawing its way through his throat.

"What happened?" Sans watched as Papyrus kicked the door shut behind him with a slam, before taking a cautious peek out the window as if he was afraid he was followed. "Paps, oh my fucking god what happened?"

"We were attacked," Papyrus's bones were rattling loudly, and Toriel was standing in shock. "Richard left with Alphys and Undyne, andand, oh god-"

"Paps - Paps, focus!" Sans found himself snapping. "I need to know what happened!"

"Some humans came," he explained quickly as Papyrus shifted from foot to foot, blood leaking down his arm and to the floor. "They were very demanding, said that-that he had a chance to 'switch to the right side', and Blake was very rude to them about it; they had guns, Sans. I-I just… I-I… !"

"Keep talking," Sans was trying his hardest to keep his bones from rattling as loud as his brother's. "Kitchen. Get him in the kitchen. Frisk, table ! I need it cleared off!"

Frisk was on their feet and dancing around the table, pushing things off in a hurry as Blake was lain down on his back. His face was pale, there was a streak of blood running down the side of his temple. He was completely unmoving, and Sans tried to assess as quickly as he could the damage. There was a blossoming red mark over his white tee shirt over his stomach, his face was pale, and Sans checked his throat with two fingers quickly.

"Low pulse… hardly breathing," Sans muttered. "Apparent stomach wound. How long ago did this happen?"

"I ran here as fast as I could, s-so… ten minutes?" Papyrus guessed rapidly.

Just how fast was his brother? He ran all the way from Blake's apartment in ten minutes?

"Gauging from the size of the wound and the amount of blood, I'd say we don't have much time, considering most humans die from blood loss through stomach puncturing in roughly ten to fifteen minutes." He could stay factual, analyze the situation and act accordingly. He didn't need to go letting emotional attachments getting in the way, regardless of how empty it made his voice sound. It would be bad news if his hands starting shaking out of fear, of anger, he didn't need to go accidentally killing his friend. But it wouldn't be the first time he'd killed a human. Just one more tally mark on his blackened soul, one more sin to taint his being.

"… Sans?" Papyrus asked uncomfortably. Just how well did he know his brother, really…? "How… how would you know something like that…?"

"Not important. Just trust me, I'm a doctor," his head snapped to the two children standing fearfully in the doorway. "Frisk, get to the bathroom and get me some gloves. First box, under the sink." Frisk nodded and left wordlessly, looking like being sick.

"Asriel, follow Frisk. Get bandages and gauze from behind the bathroom mirror, as many as you can find. Got it?"

He too nodded and left, leaving him in the kitchen with the queen and his brother.

"Tori, I'm gonna need you on standby," Sans said swiftly. "If there's still bullets in him then healing him is gonna be a problem, can you-?"

"I'll do everything within my power," she said determinedly, standing a little straighter. Sans let out an uneasy breath, looking back to his brother.

"Paps, second cabinet to the left," he nodded by the refrigerator. "I need alcohol and tweezers, a knife, scissors, whatever cutting implements we have."

Papyrus grumbled about the alcohol but did as he asked without hesitation. Sans felt Blake's pulse yet again, the unconscious human looking closer and closer to death with every passing moment. Frisk and Asriel were back within moments, and Sans disinfected the tools he would need.

"Talk to me Paps," Sans was almost pleading as he washed his hands as quickly as he could, slapping on the gloves. "I need more details on what happened. Now."

"One… one of the humans tried to… to s-shoot me," Papyrus prevented the children from coming back in the kitchen, pointing firmly to the living room. "He stepped in front of me, and-and… oh god, Sans."

"Focus, Paps," Sans stripped his shirt in half with the scissors, working quickly as he cleaned the area in his midsection. "Names?"

"I didn't bother asking," he said somewhat numbly, watching as Sans began a small incision where the bullet had entered with the kitchen knife. "I… incapacitated them."

"And they're still there?"

"Yes," Papyrus nodded. "One of them is pinned down." "One? What about the other?"

"He won't be running away," Papyrus answered darkly.

Sans tried not to flinch at his tone.

"Tori, he's bleeding out, I need-"

"I'm here," her hands wavered over his stomach, green magic trickling down her arms and into her palms, illuminating his belly in an almost sickly green glow.

"Why didn't you take him to the hospital ?" Sans asked quietly, trying not to reveal just how angry he was. It occurred to him that it was probably a good thing that Toriel was the one doing the healing, he'd probably just wind up making things worse if he tried.

"I don't know where a hospital is!" Papyrus threw up his hands. "I panicked, alright? I'm-I'm sorry !"

"It's alright, just-just don't freak out," Sans was sweating heavily, dear god he needed a smoke. "Seriously Paps, I need you to not freak out, because if you freak out then I'm gonna freak out, and we do not need that right now."

It took him several minutes of digging with the tweezers, and he found himself wishing that the bullet had simply pierced him completely, it would have at least made things easier. Then he mentally kicked himself for not wishing that he had simply been not shot at all. God Sans hated guns. He hated them so much. He grabbed the bullet and almost dropped it, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead as he carefully withdrew it, causing Blake to groan weakly. That was a good sign though. It meant that he was still alive, at least.

"Hang in there, buddy…" Sans motioned for Toriel to begin healing him again. Sans dropped the bullet onto the table, taking a step back as he allowed her room to properly maneuver, dropping his gloves in the trash and washing the makeshift tools and his hands. "He's lost a lot of blood. So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna take Blake here to the hospital. We're gonna call the cops, and then we're gonna go back and pay those fuckers a visit."

"I will remain with human Blake," Toriel said quietly, using the bandages to cover his newly formed scar. She was sweating profusely and wiped her forehead with her elbow, her fur matted to her head. "In case…"

"I gotcha," Sans nodded. "He… he should be stabilized, at the very least…" Sans had to fight to keep his voice from shaking as badly as his hands were starting to. "Paps, I need you to stay with the kids. Call Richard, let him know what happened, and we'll meet up with him at the hospital."

"I understand," Papyrus said quietly. "But I still… Sans? You-you aren't planning w-what I think you are…?"

"Just gonna step outside for a sec," Sans waved him off with a false grin. He knelt before Frisk and Asriel, who were holding each other silently on the couch, with Frisk gently stroking his hair and whispering softly to them.

Blake would likely live. God how he was fearful to hope, but the removal of the bullet and the combined healing should have done the trick. They just had to get him professional help, he'd need transfusions and stitching, though significantly how much on the inside worried him. Healing magic could only do so much.

"Hey," he said gently, causing Asriel to jerk slightly in apprehension. "Just wanted to thank you kids. You helped out a lot. Things might'a gotten ugly if it hadn't been for you guys. I'm gonna be back in a little bit. Stay with Paps, okay?"

Frisk nodded and looked at him pleadingly, but he only carefully placed a hand on their head to still them. He left without looking back and latched the front door behind him, and he saw just as he stepped out an unsettlingly familiar black car speeding away down the road. Sans took a mental snapshot of the vehicle and briefly considered giving them a good reason to stop, but he only leaned back against the wooden door and let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding.

Sans rifled in his pockets for a dog biscuit, fumbling with it and nearly dropping it through his fiercely shaking phalanges. He lit it and took a long drag, coughing a little as he tried to suck it down too quickly. He wasn't just angry, he was marrow boilingly furious . He was going to find the people that nearly dusted his brother and god that was a horrifying thought, not just from losing him… but from what he would inevitably have to do to get him back. Sans's hands were shaking badly and he clenched and unclenched them, blowing smoke out through his nostril bone. He was going to find them, he was going to rip, and tear, and kill until he'd covered the floor with their blood. It was about high time that someone was judged for their sins, and there was a lot of judging that needed to be one. There would be no pause. No remorse. No mercy. He took a few more heavy puffs before settling on a decision, snapping his forefingers as he closed his eye sockets and fell forward into a shortcut.

He found out what Papyrus had meant when he entered through reality into the hall outside of Blake's apartment. He could hear sirens outside, someone must have called the police, and there were a number of riddled holes in the walls from the human's weapons. One of the black masked

men was pinned down with over a dozen jagged white bones crisscrossing atop him, keeping him firmly to the ground on his front. He kicked futilely when he noticed Sans, nervously jerking with wide eyes, but Sans's attention was on the other human. Probably off much worse than the one who had simply been pinned to the ground. His legs were both broken and bone was jutting out from the flesh at awkward angles, and Sans felt no pity for him. He reached down and ripped off the ski mask from the whimpering man, revealing a tattooed face with several scars, eyes wide with pain and fear.

"Hey," Sans said simply, putting out his dog biscuit on the wall and flicking it away. "Can't help but notice, but buddy… you are, quite simply, completey boned."

Sans raised his hand high, eye flickering brightly with summoned magic…

"You gonna kill 'em?"

Sans froze, turning on the spot and staring down the hall. He hadn't even heard the old woman approaching, recognizing her as Blake's neighbor. She was leaning on a walking cane, dressed in a light blue flowery dress, staring back at him with an odd expression.

"Uh. Hi?" he said, somewhat uncomfortably. "Sorry, lady. This is, uh… some personal business. You might not wanna watch."

"Oh, don't mind me," she said casually, leaning on her stick with a strange expression. "Called the cops as soon as I heard gunshots, already picked up their little toys and stuck 'em in my kitchen. You mind if I have a word with these sonnies first?" Sans shrugged, uncertain.

"Oh goodie," she said simply, before turning to the man with broken legs. Then she picked her walking cane up high, holding it like a sword, before slamming it down hard on the man's broken leg. He screamed until his voice broke, leaving him thrashing furiously in agony as he tried to crawl away. Sans stopped him with a foot on his head, ignoring his pitiful pleading. She struck him again and again, apparently delighting in his tormented screams from the disturbing smirk on her face.

"That was for making me miss breakfast with my neighbor," she said with a grunt, leaning back on her walking stick. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, sonny jim. And you made me miss

it."

"S-sorry," he whimpered desperately. Sans only shook his head, a little perturbed. This old woman could be downright terrifying when she wanted to be. Sans had a bit of respect for that. He turned to the other man, who was staring stock still under his bone bindings, looking at them with abject terror.

"Don't kill me!" he blurted instantly. Sans could hear footsteps coming up the hall, but he didn't care. Maybe he had time for a bit more.

"You should probably get outta here," Mrs. Weathersby said firmly. "I'll deal with the hooligans. Just… go make sure that cartoon worshippin' idiot is alright . Got me?"

"Uh. Yes ma'am," Sans nodded to her. He glanced over his shoulder to see several police officers with weapons, and gave them a hearty wink before dissipating Papyrus's bones for them. He snapped his fingers and gave them a small wave and thanks before falling backwards into a shortcut.

He slipped through reality, the cracks in the fabric of the universe opening for him as he drifted through the void, and for just a bit he felt a strong drag downwards, as if a multitude of hands were pushing and pulling him all at once, but it was over as soon as he was out. He let out a shaky breath, his mind running wild. That hadn't gone necessarily as planned, but maybe that was a good thing.

It rattled Sans just how ready he was to commit murder . He had gone there with one thing in mind only. If it hadn't been for Blake's neighbor, he very well might have left the police a couple of corpses to clean up. Just what was he thinking ? He could have royally fucked them all if he had done that, no matter the circumstances, he didn't doubt that humans would somehow spin it to make it look like monster's fault.

Sans fought with the thought angrily. Not all humans were bad. He shouldn't be lumping them all into the same group. He sighed as he stood on his doorstep, looking out and seeing that Papyrus's car was gone. He must have followed them to the hospital. He briefly wondered how the kids were doing. He sighed and pushed in on the door, his hands shaking badly. He needed a drink.

He found Frisk sitting alone on the couch in the dark, rocking back and forth.

"… Frisk?" Sans said in alarm, looking around the shadowed house, the only light on in the kitchen. "Kid? What are you doin'?"

"I… I couldn't go," Frisk said quietly, and he was by their side in a moment. "Mom - Toriel wanted me to go, but I w-wouldn't."

"Why did you stay here…?" he frowned, feeling slightly sick to his stomach now that it was all crashing into place. "She let you stay here by yourself ?" Sans wanted to shout at the woman.

What was she thinking, leaving a kid alone after seeing something like that? And people had the raw nerve to call him irresponsible?

"I had to wait for you," Frisk explained as they dried their eyes, hugging him tightly around the middle. "I had to."

"No-no, babybones," Sans brushed their hair softly. "You didn't have to wait for me. Why would you think that?"

"In… in c-case Blake d-didn't… didn't make it," they said quietly, unable to look at him. They sniffled miserably, drying their eyes fruitlessly. Sans blinked, standing in confusion.

"… Kid?"

"I t-thought… I thought that-that…" Frisk took a shuddering breath, unable to look at him. "That you would want-want to-to… to go back."

They were talking about resetting.

Frisk was willing to kill themselves to save him.

And they were waiting for him to do it.

Sans felt like being sick .

"No," he said instantly, sitting down hard beside them. "No, oh my god no, b-babybones," he brushed their hair gently, getting his phalanges tangled in their locks. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, no Frisky-bits. I-I wouldn't - I mean, I-I can't…"

Couldn't he?

If he had to…?

Who was he, really? What kind of a sick, vile, repulsive creature was he that he would sacrifice his own child just for a second chance? Not like it's been a problem before, right…?

"Listen," he dried their tears with his hand, brushing gently across their cheek and tilting their face to look up at him. "Listen good. I love you, babybones. I would not do something like that to you. I promise. You - are not - expendable," he said firmly. And god how he wanted to believe it. He wanted that thought, that feeling to be real, to be tangible, so that he could prove to them just how much he loved them. "I love you so, so much, Frisk. I will never, ever let that happen. Okay?"

Frisk just shivered and buried their face in his shoulder. He sighed quietly and stroked their hair. He needed to wash his hands again, he could still smell the alcohol from sterilizing the makeshift tools he had used to-

Sans then discovered exactly why he smelled hard cider, and he sighed heavily as he plucked the bottle from behind Frisk. They froze, terror overwhelming their features.

"… Really?" was all he could manage to say wryly.

"I… I needed it," they hiccuped miserably. Sans wanted to tell them off. He wanted to shout, he wanted to be justifiably angry, but he was just too tired, too drained. He sighed, shrugged and took a long drink to settle his nerves.

"We're havin' a talk about this," Sans said after a few more swigs, one after another, the warmth seeping into his bones thankfully quickly. "I cannot fuckin' believe Tori left you on your own."

"I… I told her I would g-go to King Asgore's. Down-down the street," Frisk shifted guiltily, unable to meet his gaze.

"So, you stayed behind on your own, lied to the queen, and started drinking again," Sans summarized quietly. Frisk's face flushed with embarrassment and shame. "Kid. I really didn't wanna do this, but you are so grounded."

Frisk's head dropped and they hid their face in their hands, trembling. Sans sighed and took another long drink, feeling dizzier with every passing moment. He just shifted them until they were in his lap, and he reclined on the couch. They eventually curled up and hid their face in his chest, gripping his jacket tightly like it was a rope and they were dangling off the edge of a cliff.

"… Can I at least have another drink…?" Frisk mumbled meekly.

"What do you think," Sans replied dryly. They whimpered something and covered their ears, shaking a little. He tried to fight off the feeling of guilt gnawing his belly. He shouldn't feel guilty. He was trying to do the right thing. He had to lay down ground rules, they needed to learn to obey. Hadn't anyone ever taught them-

Sans cringed hard at the thought, mentally kicking himself hard. Ah. Right.

Sans sighed and rubbed small circles on their back with his free hand, sighing. There was so much that he wanted to tell them. So much that he wanted to ask them. So much that needed to be said that he didn't have the bravery for.

"… You know," Sans said quietly. "I got to thinkin'. And I try not to do that anymore, it's kinda rare for me," he said in a light tone. "… But, uh. Life. It's short. Too short. Sometimes it just stops. It's precious time."

Frisk didn't answer, but stayed very still.

"So I'm gonna ask you some questions. And you're gonna answer them," he said firmly, continuing to rub circles on their back as gently as he could. His fingers trailed over their shirt, and he could easily feel the red, puckered scar from their branding. He didn't need to go losing his cool now, no matter how hot his marrow burned. He needed to take it out on something. On someone. Somebody needed to be judged . "You understand?"

Frisk looked up at him uncertainly, glancing over his face for clues.

"O… okay…?" they answered in a soft voice.

"I'm not interrogatin' ya," he tried to say calmly. He was still so afraid. So angry. But he didn't need to go taking that out on Frisk. Especially not Frisk. "And I'll tell ya what. Every time you give me a good answer, you can have a drink. That sound good to you?"

Frisk stared, swallowed and nodded, looking a little more attentive.

"Right. So, first question. I wanna know who put those marks on you."

And, for the very first time, Frisk actually answered.

And, the more that they spoke, the more that Sans began to silently wonder just how well he knew Frisk.