Sans had holed himself up in his home since Tuesday midnight. The last time he felt this low was…
…A long time ago. Far longer than he realised.
Then again, it’s been a long time since he felt anything more than a sense of disconnected numbness.
“Never stop punning, my son. Never.”
And yet the puns stopped flowing since the night of hell.
It’s a Friday, according to Papyrus’ promise to spend the weekend together. Time? About 12:37 noon. Windows provide a convenient sundial.
The day and time don’t make a difference for Sans.
What is there to work for?
What does it even mean to work anymore?
There’s no landline phone to this house, and he had yet to replace his mobile. No one could contact him unless they tried to visit the house proper.
Undyne and Alphys did. If it weren’t for Papyrus, the skeleton brothers’ house would have lost their front door. Or all doors for the matter.
But, the lack of boisterous entries doesn’t correlate with surrender: the determined fish would keep glaring from the windows. Even with the curtains drawn.
Grillby paid a visit on Tuesday. After a brief chat, the man of fire understood the need for privacy. Hasn’t visited since. Which was fine because Grillby tended to give a week for Sans to cool off. It’s all within expectations.
Then there’s Toriel. She kept knocking on the door.
He can’t face her anymore. Not after she witnessed the truth of this wretched pile of bones. But for reasons that escape him, he softened his stance for her sake. Entertained her presence. Exchanged more knock knock jokes.
They’d continue until Cenna Caraway dropped by and whisked her away.
No doubt it’s to deal with an ongoing legal matter.
I should be helping her.
Yet I’m just being… nah. That joke’s too old. Even by my standards.
Wonder how’s the kid doing?
For their determination, they’re a bit too quiet.
…Heh. I bet they’re trying to ‘skull-pt’ a perfect method to approach me.
Okay, that’s just forcing it.
Sans checked his room’s drawer. Beneath the collection of trombones was a bottle of brandy: the best money can buy. Spent a whole timeline gathering the cash.
I’ve always wondered what these taste like.
He removed the cap. Drank it straight from the bottle.
Cough. Hack. Wheeze.
“Oh god,” he commented out loud, “Humans are nuts. It’s like chugging down isopropanol.”
Another gulp. This time, the fragrant aromas filled up his nasal cavities. It’s still bitter, but it wasn’t as shocking at his first shot.
“Hey, it’s better than Muffet’s cider at least. Man, if it can warm these cold bones it can warm anything.”
Mom would love a splash of these on her cake.
The thought about his dear mother made him take another swig.
He’s starting to feel tipsy. As far as he could tell, the world around him isn’t dissolving into sand yet.
So he took another.
And another.
Another.
Half a bottle later, his eyelids began to droop. Sans subconsciously screwed the cap back on. Left the unfinished brandy on the table.
Why?
He’s not quite sure either. Too often he would let the contents fall into a massive mess. Papyrus would then freak out and proceed to purge the offending stain. Those tend to be ketchup based, though sometimes it would be burgers, fries or chips.
Maybe in one of the old timelines, the spilled high-alcohol beverage caught fire.
One blink later, Sans fell asleep.
The dreams were stronger now than ever before. No, they were visions. He yet again viewed these vivid recollections of his past.
* * *
Once upon a time, Sans received both exciting and worrying news.
He’s going to have a baby brother.
“Mom, Dad,” asked young Sans. “Are you really keeping him?”
His father nodded. “Of course! Why such a dour face? Are you afraid that you’ll lose your number one spot? Don’t worry, Mom and I will always love both of you the same.”
Nothing escapes the boy’s keen observation. One glance at his mother and he knew that she’s not feeling well: her brilliant red scarf covered her mouth.
Dear mother smiled behind the fabric. “What’s wrong, angel?”
“…I know what happened when you had me,” said the boy. “The both of you almost destabilized and turned to dust.”
“Who told you that?”
“Doctor Gaster.”
She made an audible grunt of frustration. “Tch, that Gaster can be such a gloomy man at times. It’s all a big maybe, Sans. The odds favoured us back then, and they still favour us today! Look as us. We recovered just fine.”
How the son admired his mother’s positive spirit. It’s something he could observe, but couldn’t comprehend.
The family sat down at the couch with a book of skeleton-based names. The latest edition added plenty of new font names that washed down from the surface.
“Is my baby brother going to be strong?” asked Sans.
Dear father lit up in delight. “A powerhouse! But, we have no idea what he’s really capable of…”
“Interestingly, his colours are a direct inversion of yours,” said the mother.
Young Sans grinned wider. “A powerhouse, huh? Maybe look for the letter ‘P’ then?”
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One of the first names on the list was ‘Papyrus’. He pointed his little bony finger there.
“What about this one?”
The mother pondered while she fiddled with the end of her scarf. “A little… rough I think? Isn't ‘papyrus’ a type of paper? I fail to see the deep meaning behind the choice.”
“Heh, heh, Mom. You’re thinking too straight. Try saying it in a different way.”
She’s confused, but dear father caught the drift.
“Oh son, you’re as brilliant as ever. Say it out as loud as you can! Don’t leave your mother hanging.”
Thus Sans drew in as much air as his little ribs allowed. On the top of his voice he exclaimed:
“All hail The Great Papyrus!!!”
The loudness made her jolt in her seat. Father and son laughed as she hushed them: “My goodness, we have neighbours!”
“All the more why Sans should shout it out loud and clear,” the father replied. “Sounds powerful, right?”
The scarf fiddling intensified between her fingers. “Well… it does have quite a grandiose ring. Reminds me of a comic book hero…”
“That’s why it’s perfect, Helvetica: a hero is an angel’s best partner! One brother to protect the celestial heavens, and the other to defend the earthly realm.”
Mother dropped her jaw. “Roman. Sans. That. Is the best idea you two ever came up with. A million times better than those silly puns.”
The vision skipped to a over a year later.
Both parents ‘fell down’. Doctor Gaster led the boy into the ward and told him to listen to the last words of the dear departing.
It was the first and last time he had seen his strict mentor so grief stricken.
The parents told their eldest son to be good.
To finish his education.
To love his brother.
And never, never blame little Papyrus for their deaths.
Never.
The parents did not regret their decision. Down to the moment where they turned to dust.
Their sons were just too powerful for them.
* * *
Papyrus struggled hard to pass his middle school exams.
Yet, he quit after The Core Incident.
When Papyrus helped pack Sans’ room, he discovered a brilliant red scarf stashed away in the study desk.
“OOOH! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD A SCARF.”
Sans stared at the fabric.
For some reason, he can’t remember how he got it.
It just ‘felt’ very important…
“ARE YOU ALRIGHT, BROTHER? UNDYNE TOLD ME THAT YOU HIT YOUR SKULL REALLY HARD.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“IT’S GOING TO BE COLD IN SNOWDIN, SO YOU BETTER WEAR THIS.”
Papyrus thus wrapped it around his brother’s neck.
* * *
The vision jumped again. This time it went to sometime after they had moved into Snowdin.
Sans went out treasure hunting in the Garbage Dump. Rent needs paying, his personal lab needed funding.
Though he sold everything he had, it’s still not enough.
The junkyard had a reputation for valuables. Amidst the dirty water, he thought he’d could find anything he so desired.
Survey. Scan. He’ll only stop to dig if he detected anything of worth.
He suddenly suffered a sharp sting on his left temple.
“The hell…?”
Again, the pain repeated whenever his sights passed that general direction.
Every piece of his bone warned him against that particular pile.
Yet.
Yet.
Yet.
Since when does he ever listen? The drive to unlock secrets had always been a fundamental part of his life.
Sans forced himself forward.
Climbing to the top of the pile, his mother’s scarf tattered and tore on the debris. Still, he advanced, tossing aside anything unrelated to the pain.
He then discovered a cracked half of a familiar visor… one made by his own hands.
Wires connected it to a broken machine of great complexity.
The Chronograph.
He stared at the remnants for what it seemed like eternity. The true memories of what went down on that fateful day flooded his sight.
“…Ha…ha…ha ha ha ha… ahahahahaha!”
Tears accompanied his hollow laughter.
“It’s useless after all,” he said, “A dream. A piece of fiction. Of course, duh. Since when can we get outta here? A wormhole cannot breach the Barrier! What shitty science fiction have you been hoping on, Sans?”
“You’re a just a piece of trash.”
The trash who killed his teacher and parents.
All to save his brother, the hero of his life.
* * *
“BROTHER? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I WAS LOOKING HIGH AND LOW FOR YOU!”
Papyrus seemed busy with his new snowy life. Good for him.
He declared that he would be the most prestigious, popular skeleton in the whole Underground. And the surest way to get that goal? To join the Royal Guard.
Those who sign up for that tend to skip standard education.
Sans didn’t have the heart to tell him that things don’t work that way. Let the youngster live in his fantasies before the harsh realities of life crush him.
The Royal Guard don’t actually do much, but they’re the closest things to actual heroes in the Underground.
“Somewhere,” Sans answered. “What’s rattling your bones?”
Flowey had the keys to their fate for a while now. No one ever realised that an apocalypse happened in a different timeline. Sans himself doesn't recall it in full either, unless he had a reason to remember.
Proud as ever, the younger brother proclaimed: “AFTER PERSISTENTLY PERSUADING UNDYNE FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK, I -- THE GREAT PAPYRUS -- MANAGED TO OBTAIN THE POSITION OF SENTRY ESPECIALLY FOR YOU!”
“NOW YOU ARE ON THE SAME BOAT AS I AM! IT’S A VERY HONOURED PROFESSION MUCH LIKE YOUR OLD SCIENCE JOB.”
No doubt that Undyne caved in out of annoyance. “Oh, hey. You’re a sentry too?”
“MORE THAN THAT! I’M CAPTAIN UNDYNE’S UNDERSTUDY. ONE DAY, I WILL BE QUALIFIED TO JOIN HER RANKS!”
“That’s so cool. Congrats.” He meant it. “Wait here Papyrus. I have something to celebrate our new bone-tastic jobs.”
“SAAAANS! CAN WE HAVE A CONVERSATION WITHOUT LAME PUNS AT LEAST ONCE???”
Dear mother used to complain the same.
“Nope,” he chuckled back.
“NYEEEEEEH!!”
“C’mon Paps, just chill for a moment.”
Sans went to his room. His mother’s scarf lay plunked on the desk, untouched since the day he found the Chronograph.
A thought passed by that he should have taken better care of it.
Perhaps, there’s someone else who will?
He took his mother’s memento to his brother. Offered it as a gift.
“My cool scarf is yours now, bro.”
Papyrus gasped as he sparkled in delight. Ah, life’s worth living with such a bundle of joy by your side.
“FOR ME??? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
“Yeah. Looks better on you anyway.”
“THANK YOU, SANS! YOU’RE THE BEST BROTHER!”
From that day onward, everyone knew Papyrus as the skeleton wearing a red scarf.
* * *
“SANS?”
The blue skeleton woke up from his slumber upon hearing his name.
It’s Papyrus’ voice.
If he’s home, it’s almost the beginning of winter night.
The bottle of brandy remained on the table.
Odd.
On any normal day, his younger brother would have made a ruckus about the trappings of alcoholism, then poured the offending drink straight down the sink.
He’s probably done that at least once in a timeline somewhere.
Sans groaned a bit. Could this be the fabled ‘hangover’ drinkers talk about?
“Nngh… did I rip the house apart yet?”
“NO,” Papyrus answered, “IT’S A HUNDRED PERCENT INTACT.”
The younger brother looked at the bottle. “THIS STUFF IS NOT MEANT FOR SOLO DRINKING. WE SHOULD HAVE SHARED IT AFTER YOU FINISHED YOUR DATE WITH FRISK.”
“Nah, you won’t like it. 60% alcohol. It’s so strong, it’s gonna make your teeth cringe-”
Pause.
“Did… you just say that Frisk wanted a date with me?”
Papyrus nodded.
“…Why?” That’s the only question Sans had in mind.
“BECAUSE YOU’RE THEIR PRECIOUS FRIEND, OF COURSE! AND I’M HERE TO HELP YOU TIDY UP!”
“I could decline, you know.”
Papyrus furrowed his brows and exclaimed: “C’MON, BROTHER! THEY NEED TO HANG OUT WITH YOU AS MUCH AS YOU NEED TO HANG OUT WITH THEM. SO LET’S GET GOING BEFORE IT’S PAST THEIR CURFEW.”
If Sans must be honest, he can’t care about himself. He had gone beyond the point of no return. …But it’s about Frisk. The human who held everyone together, Papyrus included.
“Uh… okay…? I guess there’s no harm in lending a cochlea. Where are we meeting?”
He hoped that it won’t be a place with lots of people.
“THE OLD MTT RESORT IN HOTLAND. FRISK TOLD ME YOU DATED THEM THERE BEFORE.”
Sans was outright relieved. It’s deserted, except for the hours when the engineering crew travel down to maintain The Core.
That fancy hotel had become a pitstop. Ebott Town’s power supply still tapped from The Core itself. Just because they’re free doesn’t mean they’d abandon the facility.
It took a couple of months to rewire the system, but it’s better than depending solely on human society. The Surface’s electrical rates were… pretty dang expensive.
At least they had installed a proper cooling system with Alphys’ help. Ice Wolf could move on with his life now, and not be stuck chucking ice forever.
“…As long there are no surprises,” Sans smirked. “Like Undyne crashing the party.”
Papyrus puffed up his chest and declared, “WORRY NOT, MY DEAR BROTHER! YOUR IMPORTANT DATE WILL BE SMOOTH SAILING AS LONG AS I’M AROUND.”
The older one kept staring at the chest in silence. Even without Papyrus bringing out his SOUL, he could see that red butterfly mark clear as day. Truesight was part of the perks of having ‘Yellow’.
It’s been there ever since the time loops happened. Thought that it might go away once the matter resolved…
But it remained.
Papyrus went on about his plans, oblivious to the lack of attention.
A red butterfly, huh?
Looks like it’s made from Determination.
Makes me wonder… what else can it do?
If it can preserve memories, then it might possibly lock down other ‘states of time’…
Could this be an important key?
Sans’ ponderings ended when he caught wind of a very annoyed glare from his brother.
“SAAAAAANS,” Papyrus exclaimed. “THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO SPACE OUT!”
“Whoops. Sorry bro. Still warming up. Just suffered some brand-new ‘branding’ by the best brand of brandy in the world, ya know.”
“THIS IS ALSO NOT THE TIME FOR TONGUE TWISTERS! COME BROTHER, WE’VE GOT TO SUIT YOU UP. LOOK SNAZZY FOR YOUR DATE!”
Welp. I can’t analyze anything with Papyrus so fired up.
Guess I should go listen to what the kid has to say.