One Thing

Chapter 58: One Thing

Papyrus awoke to the sound of heavy rain.

He was fine. He was holding on to Asriel with one arm, wrapped around his shoulder while the frail goat monster silently clung to him, the prince staring out the curtained window at the pitters of rainfall against the glass, his eyes wide. He seemed to notice that Papyrus was awake after a bit, but said nothing, just hanging on tightly to his shirt as the skeleton cradled him in his lap, leaning back with his legs kicked up on the bed. It was fine. Everything was fine. Even if he was still a bit dizzy and nauseous from the alcohol. It would be fine. He was fine.

For approximately twelve seconds, and then the memories returned and along with it the absolutely marrow boiling rage .

Asriel must have sensed his distress, because his grip loosened a little and he looked up at Papyrus nervously, his eyes darting back and forth across his features. Papyrus did his best to hide it, but he wasn't all that good about keeping his expressions off him. He never did have much of a poker face.

Unlike your brother. He must be so used to lying.

Papyrus's grip tightened just a bit and Asriel glanced away. Papyrus let out a quiet sigh and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, cloudy and dark as the early morning sky above. He tried to reach up with his other arm before remembering that he didn't have it, instead dropping the stump to dangle uselessly at his side.

"I-I'm sorry," Asriel croaked after a while, noticing what Papyrus was trying to do, his face flooded with regret and shame. "I-"

"None of that now," Papyrus shifted and gently patted him on the head with his remaining hand. "It's alright. You didn't sleep at all, did you, little one?"

"You're hurt because of me," Asriel said numbly, ignoring the question and staring down at his paws. "If-if I hadn't…"

"You said that wasn't you, right?" he insisted firmly but softly. "So it wasn't you. And even if it were, I would still forgive you."

"I don't deserve forgiveness-" Asriel frowned, hiding his face in his hands. "I… I hurt so many people…"

"Que sera, sera," Papyrus stroked the fluff atop his head. "Maybe you made some mistakes as a flower-" Asriel scoffed hard at the word 'some', "-but that was then, and this is now. You have a chance

to make things different, little one. We will all be here for you. Me, the humans, your parents…"

Asriel started curling up the more he spoke, using one arm to wrap around his knees.

"Does it just not occur to you…" Asriel's voice was low and coarse. "That maybe I don't deserve any of that?"

"You know you keep saying that," Papyrus silently stroked his head, staring out the window. "I can think of a few people who really don't. You should have a chance to be happy, to start over."

"That's just the thing though," Asriel shifted a bit in his lap until they were both facing the same direction. He pulled Papyrus's hand down until he was hanging onto it like a lifeline over his chest, wringing it with his small paws. "I… I came back. After you k- after that-that thing happened," he stumbled over his words, his brows furrowing. "I shouldn't even be alive. If… if it weren't for Frisk…"

"They are a very good person," was all Papyrus said, his gaze settling onto the far wall. He started to add to that sentence, but silenced himself. Maybe he could bring it up later, when he wasn't feeling like doing something rash and violent. He didn't like the feeling. Like grease on his soul.

They sat in silence for a long while, with Papyrus just gently brushing his head as he stared out the window. He desperately wished that the poor little one would get some rest, but the bags under Asriel's eyes were a testament to how much he despised it.

"… Tell me about the nightmares," Papyrus said after a while. Asriel cringed.

"Wow. You didn't even say please this time."

"You haven't been telling your parents," he continued with a frown.

He reached up and scratched

the light scar on his face absentmindedly from where the knife had nicked him. Good times. "You won't talk to any of the human doctors. You wouldn't even let Alphys see you, and she's much cooler than me!"

Asriel didn't answer during all of this, just retaking Papyrus's hand in his own and holding it close to him like he could hug him back together.

"… I know that you don't like talking about it…" Papyrus said after a little while.

"That's an understatement," Asriel grumbled, clinging to his hand.

"I… I killed them. I did worse than kill them, I… I hurt everyone . I

hurt you ."

"And all is forgiven," Papyrus said simply, hushing him when he tried to retort. "Like I said, you've been given a second chance at life."

"And that doesn't add up, does it…?" Asriel frowned, turning his head to stare out the window along with him. "That tall man with the crack in his face… I remember… bits and pieces. Papyrus, something… something is wrong . You can't tell me that you don't feel it, too. Are you still having those dreams that you told me about…?"

"No," Papyrus shifted uncomfortably. "They… stopped. Right after Sans f-fell."

Asriel just twisted and stared up at him like he was waiting for him to get the obvious.

"I mean, it is a little suspicious…" Papyrus distracted himself with brushing the fluff atop his head

as he turned away. "Gaster can't be all bad. I mean, he brought you back ! After I…" he paused, shaking his head. It felt like his skull was full of water. "He saved you. Didn't he?"

"Frisk saved me," Asriel corrected him quietly. "They gave me part of their soul. Part of themselves. I was kind of out of it, but… I definitely remember that part."

"So maybe that was the way that he intended it?" Papyrus was desperately grasping at straws. "I mean, people sometimes do things for very strange reasons-"

"Sans went crazy just before it happened. With… with the crack."

Papyrus clammed up promptly. Asriel had not said a single word about what happened when Sans fell down, only that he had just collapsed. Papyrus's soul felt like it was constricting, he couldn't breathe properly. He didn't want to think about it, didn't even want to consider the awful notion, but had Sans…?

"… Crazy how ."

Asriel froze up instantly. Papyrus's hand stilled on his head and Asriel began trembling slightly, which he picked up on swiftly. Just when he thought that he couldn't possibly be an angrier with his brother… but there again was that silly, stupidly optimistic little part of him that vainly wanted it to just be a misunderstanding, that things could work out for the best. Papyrus was gradually learning to quash that voice. Regardless of just how badly it ached.

"Asriel."

Asriel still wasn't speaking, wringing Papyrus's hand in his own as he stared out the window.

"Asriel," Papyrus repeated firmly, and the little monster flinched. "… What did he do."

"Nothing," he said a little too quickly for him to believe. "He-he was just acting… really weird is all."

"Explain."

Gone was the patience in his tone, the gentleness that was always carried by the skeleton that everyone had grown so used to. His voice was sharp and cold, and although Asriel couldn't see his face he was pretty sure that he didn't want to. Asriel just sat in his lap and drew up his knees, shivering a little from the chill. Papyrus didn't move an inch, not allowing him to slip away. Asriel opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out for a long while.

"You know something that I don't," Papyrus's voice was clipped and measured, regardless of the pounding in his head. "I just want to know, little one. I need to know. Did… did he… hurt you?"

"What?" Asriel blinked, turning around in his lap to face him fully. "No! I mean, no, he-he didn't. He-he just… kept trying to - I mean, I thought… I thought that he wanted to take my soul or something."

Papyrus let out a small, angry noise, but motioned for him to continue.

"Nothing happened," he added quickly. "No f-fighting. He-he just… he was behaving really… like he wasn't him. I think… I think maybe crack-face had something to do with it…?" Asriel continued unconvincingly. Papyrus was even more unnerved by it. Like he was deliberately trying to hide something, but Papyrus knew when he was fighting an uphill battle.

Gaster couldn't be that bad. After all, he had been so helpful and kind in his dreams. But maybe that was just what they were, meaningless dreams. And he had brought back his friend, and not as a flower! Gaster knew lots of things, he just wanted to help.

And yet Sans had almost fallen down with an identical crack in his skull, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it, it made him supremely uneasy.

"… I'm going to go check on Sans and the little one," Papyrus said after what felt like hours. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the heavy clouds, an odd dash of sunlight and rain. "I won't be gone long," he added when Asriel started to shift back and forth uneasily. "When I come back I expect you to have eaten breakfast at the very least. Talk to your mother. Even if it's just… just a little. Please. Understood?"

Papyrus was never quite so blatant and hard voiced. It made Asriel shiver. He simply nodded once, and Papyrus picked him up and set him on the bed. The little monster was getting lighter and lighter with each passing day, it made him worry tremendously, but he didn't speak it this time. He simply gave him a soft hug before he left, padding silently through Toriel's house. The humans were sleeping in the living room, and Papyrus was a bit surprised to see that Blake and Richard were even sleeping in the same room after their fight, with the former on the couch while Richard lay reclined in a large plush chair, his hands folded in his lap. He looked as if he hadn't even changed clothes for days, and Papyrus lay his hand quietly on the wheelchair beside the couch without speaking. He heard a quiet noise coming from the dining room and he poked his head in to spot Toriel sitting with her head slumped over a cup of steaming coffee, her hands twisting over and over again across the table.

"… Your highness?"

Toriel jumped slightly at hearing his voice, her face a mask of worry and concern before it was swiftly wiped away, replaced with a quiet smile.

"Good morning, Papyrus," she said simply as she stirred her untouched coffee with a little spoon. "I… I wish to thank you again for helping my son."

"It's really no problem," he responded tiredly, forcing a smile. It physically hurt to smile right now, but he would push through it regardless. "I really do think that he's improving!"

Toriel seemed unconvinced, her smile wavering as she looked away.

"… I just wish that I knew what I'm doing wrong," Toriel said distractedly. "He… he will not speak to me, nor Asgore. I…" her voice trailed off as she cleared her throat, and Papyrus took the time to stand beside her. She was already tall when standing, and held the same regal posture even when she wasn't. He placed his hand on her shoulder with a gentle smile, his expression softening a bit.

"He just needs a bit of time," he tried to reassure her. "I have spoken with him as much as he will allow, and… I think he's trying, at least."

"Perhaps…" Toriel let out a slow sigh, staring into her drink, her eyes half lidded. "Perhaps it is what I deserve. I have not been a good mother-"

"That is nonsense," Papyrus's grip on her shoulder tightened a little, causing her to glance up at him. "Please, your majesty. Do not believe that it is because you are unfit to be a parent, you are a wonderful monster, queen and mother. Even Frisk calls you 'mom' sometimes," he added, patting her shoulder with a weak grin to match her own. "He is still recovering is all. F-Asriel has seen some… unpleasant things. And when he is ready, he will speak about it. Maybe he just needs a bit more time."

They were silent for a few minutes, and Papyrus eventually shook his head. He needed to return to Frisk and make sure that Sans was still breathing properly. Even if he was angry with him, he was still his brother and needed to be taken care of.

"… Mom?"

Toriel and Papyrus both blinked up to see the little goat monster in his pajamas. He was pulling at one ear uneasily before Toriel began to stand. He darted to her and hugged her tightly, Toriel's face contorting in pain and joy and relief. She clutched at her heart and it made Papyrus' soul ache in turn. Tears gathered in her eyes as she silently knelt and hugged him close, whispering something to him that Papyrus couldn't hear, both of them shaking. For some reason he couldn't quite brush off the feeling of being watched, but he ignored it.

Papyrus, feeling as though he were witnessing something very private, quietly extricated himself from the dining room and left. He gave the sleeping Blake one quiet pat on the head just before he left, slipping out the front door. The rain was drizzling lighter than before, but Papyrus didn't mind. He needed to check on Frisk, and Sans. Maybe he could make Frisk some breakfast and actually get them to eat something. He simply stood in the falling water for a while, closing his eye sockets and letting the soothing mist wash over him, releasing a heavy sigh. He was so tired .

After a bit he finally tugged his phone out of his pocket, flicking through saved numbers until he found the one that he was looking for. He let out another weary sigh and hung his head as he held up the phone, listening to it ring for a while.

"… Alphys? Yes. It's me again. We… need to talk about Sans."

Sans felt like he was floating.

He hadn't moved much since he had embraced Frisk's soul. It felt like his bones were filled with gelatin, but he didn't really care. He leaned back in the bed with Frisk curled up on his chest, drooling a little bit since they had fallen asleep. He stroked Frisk's hair now and then, his mind preoccupied. He couldn't really tell if he was dreaming or not. He didn't feel Gaster's constant watch on him, so maybe it was a dream after all. He thought he heard footsteps, but it was tucked quickly to the back of his mind. He could just be alone with Frisk for a while, hold them close. But the question nagged at him whether it was for their sake, or his. Frisk was his security blanket. Even when he was asleep he wanted them close. Just the idea of that split-headed abomination getting near them where he couldn't fend him off… it made him uneasy. Perhaps he was being a tad protective, but he didn't care. He had seen Frisk's gorgeous soul in all of its splendor and it had changed something inside him, like a switch had been thrown and there was no going back. He really didn't want to, anyway.

He could feel their heartbeat against him, feel their powerful soul thrumming vibrantly like his own personal sun. They were a force of light and warmth in his life, and he could feel a smile

creeping up his face. Sans didn't care if he was asleep or not. If this was a dream, then he didn't want to wake up.

Then the bedroom door slowly swung open, revealing a stunned looking Papyrus with his arm dangling at his side.

"Hey Paps," Sans grinned at him as the skeleton took a couple of swift strides to him. "Did'ja miss me- hrrk !"

Sans's voice was cut off as he was hoisted roughly into the air by his throat. Frisk yelled something as they fell to the side and Sans was lifted upwards, his bare feet kicking as he dangled uselessly in his brother's intense grasp. Sans tried to speak but didn't manage to choke anything out as he was spun and slammed hard against the bedroom wall. All of the guilt, all of the paranoia and self loathing and fear all rushed back at once like a tidal wave pulling him into the undertow of reality, the lights in his eye sockets dimming in terror as he looked upon the infuriated face of the devil himself. This was it. This was his worst terror, his every nightmare encapsulated. He had to still be asleep, but couldn't wake up.

"I can't believe you," Papyrus growled deeply, disgust plain on his face. "I used to believe in you."

Sans went slack as Papyrus's grip tightened around his throat, hot shameful tears spilling down his bony cheeks, unable to look away from the infuriated skeleton. Sans had stopped breathing some time ago. He waited for the bone splintering twist, the crush of his throat that he deserved, that he was silently begging for so that he wouldn't have to look at the disappointment, the fury in his brother's face, an end to the roiling agony in his soul that twisted and churned painfully.

But Papyrus just stood there, holding him midair while Frisk pulled at his shirt, rambling nonsense as they begged him, hiccuping and crying miserably.

Papyrus glanced down to Frisk. Then over to Sans, back and forth twice before settling his gaze on his brother. Papyrus dropped him shortly afterwards and Sans gasped for breath, his head reeling. Frisk was at his side in a mere moment, struggling to hold him up as they wept just as much as he did.

And Papyrus just… stood there.

Maybe his only saving grace was that of the doorbell going off downstairs. Papyrus's head tilted toward the door, and Sans was fearful to even look at him; but the anger, the rage was gone from his face, leaving only a weary, battered skeleton that had replaced his brother some time ago and Sans had been too wrapped up in himself to even notice.

"… Get downstairs," Papyrus croaked out wearily. "You've got some explaining to do."

Tick tick tick tick.

Papyrus's finger bones clicked across the kitchen table, drumming evenly across the wood. Sans was sweating bullets as he sat directly across from the taller skeleton, whose gaze was boring a hole right through him. If looks could kill, then he would definitely be dust by now. He was half surprised that he wasn't already. He had his fists in his pockets to hide the shaking, but it wasn't helping. Sans could still feel his brother's fingers around his throat, tightening and constricting as he was shoved against the wall; his soul was still pounding furiously in dread as the guilt and the frustration and the fear coursed through him. He had so many nightmares of his brother, of sweet, kind Papyrus turning on him, finally judging him for his sins.

You could have died a minute ago.

The nightmares had never been so hard to combat, but here, now, he could hear them, see them, he could feel the sins crawling on his back as Papyrus stared right through him. He couldn't even muster the decency to meet his gaze. Frisk was sitting on one side of the table looking uncomfortable, fiddling with their hands as Alphys placed cups of coffee on the table with trembling claws before sitting across from Frisk. Nobody was moving, nobody was speaking. It was the epitome of discomfort and unease, and all Sans wanted to do was curl into himself and never come out again. The light pitter of early morning rain danced against the glass of the windows and over the roof, still not loud enough to drown out the steady tapping of Papyrus's phalanges, thrumming like Sans's very own funeral dirge.

Tick tick tick tick.

It felt like Sans was listening to a clock on the countdown for his death. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the image out of his head, of his brother hoisting him into the air, the outrage, the fury in his eye sockets that threatened to burn him if he looked too closely. Sans didn't dare lift his head, didn't dream of looking his brother in the face. He didn't even know if he could do that ever again. He was struck with a powerful urge to grab Frisk and run, maybe it wasn't too late to reset…? But how far back would it even take them? Then there was the question of Gaster. He distractedly ran his phalanges over the crack over his eye socket, his fingers shaking and clacking against bone. He felt repulsed just from touching the mark, like his own body was a vile testament to the damage that his creator had tried to implement on him. On what might have happened had he succeeded. Gaster was trying to prevent him from resetting. For… some reason. It deeply bothered him that he didn't know why. There had to be some kind of purpose. They had done so much, gotten so far this time, and yet he couldn't quite shake the urge to try to go back anyway. It rang against everything that he wanted, everything that he was. Maybe he was just a coward, wanting to go back to avoid facing his problems. And in a way, that was exactly what he would be doing, but the idea was still just a bit appealing. That upset him even more, somehow. Why was it even important to the creepy old bastard? What was the point? What was his endgame, what could he possibly get out of them not resetting again? His head was still swimming and he felt weak and uneasy. He didn't even know if he could shortcut out, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Tick tick tick tick.

The silence was deafening and thick. Sans risked a glance to look over at Frisk, and noticed just how pale they were. They were watching Papyrus nervously, chewing their bottom lip and clinging their hands together. Alphys just clicked her claws against her coffee cup, staring into it distractedly, her brows furrowed deeply. Her light blue top looked like it had just been thrown on, and was baggy enough that it made her seem even smaller in it.

"… Somebody fuckin' tell a joke or something," Sans mumbled desperately. He would have begged if he had to.

"You hurt them." Papyrus's voice was quiet, but so cold, so sharp that it could have cut glass. Sans flinched hard, struggling against the intense urge to look away, to get out, to just let it end. His bones were rattling and his gaze dropped in shame, his face flooding. "Our Frisk. Our child. Our babybones. You hurt them, Sans."

"I-I'm not hurt…" Frisk tried to interject quietly. "It's really okay-"

"There is nothing about this that is okay!" Papyrus shouted, causing them all to flinch. His fist clenched tightly against the table, shaking as he strained to remain calm. He took a slow, long breath before settling back down, his phalanges scraping angrily across the wood. It was like something had just built and built and built inside of him and was finally blowing out of the top. "I can't believe this. I cannot believe this…"

He trailed off into silence after a bit, his jaw clicking shut. His fist was trembling against the table so hard that Sans could feel the vibration from his chair.

"So, uh… g-guess the dog's outta the bag?" Sans tried to speak but his voice came out broken, weak and cracking. It probably wasn't the best thing to start with, gauging from the absolutely withering glare that Papyrus shot him. He cringed and sank back into his seat. He felt so foul, so disgusting, the guilt was clawing up his chest and threatening to come through his throat.

"How long."

Sans opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He cast his gaze downward in shame, the heat in his cheeks displaying his worthlessness.

"How. Long ."

"… Since the beginning."

Papyrus let out an unsatisfied noise from the back of his throat, rubbing his temple with his knuckles.

"I-it's n-not what you think," Sans added quickly, looking up to him with just the barest hint of hope in him. "I-I didn't do it on purpose or anything."

"You didn't do it on purpose," Papyrus repeated slowly in a blatantly disbelieving tone. "I'm just… Sans. How many times do I have to tell you not to treat me like I'm stupid ." his voice dropped into a threatening growl at the end of his sentence, and Sans desperately wanted to retreat into himself. His brother looked practically feral, his eye lights sharp and thin, his face set straight with barely concealed anger. Sans had never been afraid of Papyrus. Not until now, anyway. This wasn't right. This wasn't like Papyrus. It was like some kind of animal was fighting for control in him, twisting his brother before him into this vengeful, furious spectre. Sans didn't want to think about that.

"It's true…" Frisk stammered quickly. "When… when I was, um. Hhurt. Sans gave me magic to m-make me feel better. He made the hurt go away."

"Right," Sans jumped on the opportunity as quickly as he could, stumbling over his words to explain. "It-it was an a-accident, I swear, I promise I swear I-I-I, oh god, it-it wasn't on p-purpose… !" he held up his palms nervously. "The-the first time I tried ta h-heal 'em. I ththink that's what it was, Pap. They, uh… reacted. Weird."

"Right," Papyrus said after a moment, staring him down. Sans suddenly felt very, very small. "An 'accident'."

"S-so…" Alphys shifted uneasily. "Um. We-we've been t-t-trying to ffind a way t-to undo t-this…"

"And you," he rounded on Alphys suddenly, making the scientist blanch and shift back in her chair. "You. You knew. You knew, and didn't tell me anything ."

Alphys hung her head guiltily, pulling her claws together in her lap.

"How long were you planning on lying to me?" Papyrus asked, looking around the table. Only Frisk had the courage to meet his gaze, their face lined with sadness and weariness. "All of you. I'm… I am so disappointed ."

Papyrus took a slow breath and pinched the bridge of his nostril bone, closing his eye sockets for a moment. He looked like he was an inch away from screaming at the top of his lungs, Sans didn't know how he was managing to keep it all in. His shoulders trembled a little, perhaps with the effort, his face downcast.

"It's really not as bad as it looks…" Alphys stuttered, taking an experimental sip of her coffee, her face scrunching at the bitterness.

"Not-not as bad as it looks," Papyrus let out a biting laugh, devoid of humor. He swiveled his head toward Sans. "Really. Do go on. Please. Tell me just how it's not as bad as it looks."

"I-" Sans started only to be cut off by his brother.

"You bonded," Papyrus seethed. "The most sacred and revered of acts. Without telling me. With our child ."

"I'm… I'm trying to fix this," Sans offered weakly.

"We've been t-trying…" Alphys added. "I-it's just… we d-don't know if we can ."

Papyrus turned his icy stare to her, and even though she shivered from the look she continued.

"It's… it's dangerous," she tried to explain. "San's soul is… I-I mean, Frisk's is too, it's just-"

Sans held up a shaking hand to her before he steadied himself. Alphys silenced as he held a hand over his chest, reaching deep for magic. He had to push harder than normal just to feel the familiar tingle, like it was getting harder for him to perform even the most menial of tasks, but he managed it. He slowly, carefully drew out his soul, literally baring it for his brother to see. If his brother was going to strike him, now would be the opportune time, and Sans knew that he would have deserved it. Some sick little part of him was actually begging for it, because if he died then Frisk might reset to bring him back. He might have a chance to make things right, make things easier, and he felt like such a wretch for even thinking it. Papyrus took in a sharp breath through his teeth, recoiling slightly at the sight. Even Sans was uncomfortable with looking at it. His soul was cracked and almost jagged in places, barely held together by the congealing redness swarming over his soul. Was it just him, or had it spread a little further than the last time he had seen it…? He could feel stares on him from all sides, and noticed quietly that Frisk's eyes were wide before he turned back to his broken soul. Sans let his soul sink back into his chest, watching as the porcelain and ruby glow vanished from the room. The light seemed a little dimmer than it did before, but maybe it was just his imagination.

"… Sans," Papyrus said after a few moments, his voice quiet. Sad. "… You look like a brick of hammered shit ."

"Gee thanks bro," Sans croaked weakly. "You always know how ta make me feel better."

"Frisk's s-soul isn't in m-much better cond-d-dition," Alphys stated after a few moments, trying to break the awkward silence. "Trying to b-break it again could b-be… um. F-fatal."

Papyrus leaned back in his groaning chair, running a hand slowly down his face as he let out a sigh as he stared up at the ceiling.

"This is messed up," Papyrus said simply. "Oh my stars and stones, this is beyond messed up, Sans."

"Preachin' to the choir…" he responded. "God, bro. I-I'm sorry. I'm so, so fuckin' sorry. I… I should'a told you right away."

"Or not done it at all," he snapped back to attention, the anger plain in his voice. Sans shifted backwards a bit in his chair miserably.

"It was an accident-" he tried to insist, but Papyrus's stare was no longer on him and his words died in his throat.

"Save it, Sans," he said without looking at him, and his jaw snapped shut instantly. "I… I can't tell you how torn I am right now. God I want to be angry so badly. What… what even happened to you? You… you look like…" Papyrus trailed off, but he didn't have to continue. Sans knew it full well. He looked like him. God, that was a horrifying thought. It made his stomach churn just thinking about it. "… You don't look good."

"Yeah, funny that," Sans scraped his phalanges along his scalp. "Almost like I was close to death for a couple o' weeks or something."

"You… you l-look like…" Alphys started uneasily, her eyes wandering up to the latest addition to his head.

"Gaster, yeah," he nodded simply. He ran a tentative finger bone over the wound, flinching a little where it still stung. Sans still regretted telling her about him, if only for the dreadful memories it dredged up. He could almost feel those damned hands skittering all over him, and he shuddered impulsively again. Sans felt that he was going to be very familiar with the reaction for a while. "He, uh… he got into my head."

Papyrus only stared at him. Or through him, Sans couldn't really tell.

"We're going to get back to how you marked a child-! " Papyrus slammed his fist against the table in rage, causing them all to jump; the windows trembled and the lights above flickered, his eye socket sparked with a violent orange glow but after a moment it died down, and Sans realized just how much effort, how much self control his brother must have had restraining such a massive flow of power. He struggled to calm himself, taking several deep gulps of air and clenching his teeh. "- but you're saying Dad did this to you…?"

"I dunno how," Sans didn't look up from his untouched coffee again this time. He didn't know if he could gaze up at his brother with that look in his eye sockets without breaking down entirely, and he wasn't taking the chance. "And please don't call 'im that. Maybe since I was… already close to the edge, it made it easier for 'im. I don't know. He started poking around in my head, tried… tried ta break me."

"… Break you?" Alphys's voice was like tinkling glass. Frisk was watching him with a mixture of concern and horror, their eyes flickering up to the crack across his skull. The fire faded slightly from Papyrus's eye sockets, and just for a bit the severe concern shined through.

"Jacked me up pretty bad. He just kept… torturing me, over and over an' over again. Tried ta mess with my memories, like… like he was trying to… I dunno. Empty me out or somethin'. And-and when that didn't work he just came back and tore me apart some more. 'cept… Except it didn't work. Nothing worked. I wouldn't break," Sans's voice felt hollow, his mind and soul numb from the recollection. "Nothin' worked. I just kept… I kept comin' back. "

Something finally, finally clicked in Sans and he dared a glance over to Frisk, who was covering their mouth with their hands, their eyes wide. It felt like a gear had been grinding against blockage and he was at long last allowed to free it, the sheer weight of the realization hitting him hard.

Maybe he could not truly die because he was too determined .

Was this what it was like? To beg for the sweet merciful release of death only to have it ripped away, all because there was a tiny piece of him that was too determined, too stubborn to just throw in the towel? A part of his soul that refused, no matter what, to give in no matter just how badly he wanted it to end?

Sans shuddered hard and suddenly felt like being ill. That was an awful, awful thought. But maybe he understood Frisk just a little bit better now. He could fathom why they couldn't just give up even when presented with death. They were literally incapable.

Sans held his head in his hands, letting his mind wander. He didn't want it to, he wanted desperately for something, anything to take the pain away. He felt like he had been struck by lightning, his whole body was in shock.

Papyrus could have killed you if he wanted.

"Do… do you think-" Sans started quietly, a heat burning in his eye sockets. "Do you think you can… ever f-forgive me?"

He was looking both to Frisk and Papyrus as he looked up. He was speaking to both of them, really. He knew that he didn't deserve forgiveness. He shouldn't have even asked for it. But for both their sakes, he would bow his head and prostrate himself. He felt so vile, so pathetic for turning into such a pitiful creature before them, tears staining his bony cheeks. But Papyrus's eye sockets softened for just a moment, his remaining arm reaching out for him before pulling back as if burned. Papyrus's mouth opened and closed several times before he pushed swiftly back from the table, knocking his chair over in the process. He was around to Sans before he could react, and Sans almost fell over from the sudden arm that was thrown around his shoulders as Papyrus sank to his knees beside him. Sans had been expecting several things, none of which had been his brother actually hugging him, and now that it was happening he leaned in and hugged him back, hardly having realized just how desperately he missed it.

"… Yeah," Papyrus said quietly, squeezing his brother close. "I… I think I can. Just… I need you to do something. Just one thing, that's all I need for you to do for me, brother."

"Anythin', bro. Anything at all," Sans was trying very hard not to choke up, afraid that if he let go his brother might just turn into smoke. It was almost a full minute before Papyrus responded, and

he said it slowly, carefully, and calmly, ensuring that Sans knew full well all of the implications and consequences with a few simple words.

"… Don't fuck up."