Sans sat in the last corridor, watching the monitoring feed on his phone. It was almost time. Almost time to break his promise to someone who’d almost certainly died, without him ever knowing her name. The anomaly was making their way through New Home now, and anyone who hadn’t been evacuated could be expected to be dust by this point.

Not that it mattered. The evacuation meant nothing. The reports didn’t just suggest an end to this timeline - that was not only fine, that was the outcome he was hoping for. Unfortunately, what they showed was an end of everything. An end that loomed larger as the day went on, until he had to shut down his sensor equipment because they had to switch to emergency power.

He didn’t even know what that meant. Would it mean that people like Alphys had sort of never been born? That he and Papyrus would have just died on arriving in this world, or that their past would change somehow? Or did it mean the past remained intact, and the universe was just destroyed?

But it didn’t really matter. There was one way and one way only that Papyrus would be okay. His hand clenched. Killing the kid meant nothing. Winning meant nothing. Making them loop meant nothing. But some of the results from the reports… there were layered loops. Loops within loops. They could go back further than their anchor point. To eight months ago, or even maybe just to this morning. That’s… that’s all he needed.

The only hope whatsoever for their world, for Sans, for… for Papyrus… the only hope was to somehow convince the thing approaching him to give up and undo everything. And then trust that somehow, both the anomaly and the other Sans would find a way to make things okay.

It was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. Why would that abomination ever…

But no, he’d seen some signs.

The thing going around killing everyone - that was hopeless. They’d turned away kindness, mercy, pleas, gentleness, threats, bluffs, Undyne’s insanely brilliant defense, her beautiful stand against the darkness… every conceivable reason to turn away, they’d just disregarded.

But he’d seen flickers, sparks of maybe something more. That something had been human in them once, and he might be able to remind them of it. As they were, there was no chance, but maybe…

Regardless of whether it was possible, he couldn’t just stand back and do nothing. Not anymore. He couldn’t afford to do nothing. Not when it looked like the true end of everything.

It was hopeless, but he had to try anyway.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. He slowly pulled himself to his feet.

He was going to die. Hopefully not by the anomaly’s hand, but by the ending of this timeline. It was different than regular death, sure, but this version of him would cease to exist. Wouldn’t do much good, if he just killed them - they’d be back, it’d be a matter of minutes difference, and he’d still be in this situation. But if he could just make them stop all this, if he could make them give up and go back further…

Then this version of Sans would end, and the other Sans would have Papyrus back, and maybe…

His hand clenched again. He had to try. With everything he had. If there was any chance for Papyrus’s future at all…

There they were. It was time.

They walked into the hall with a curious and faintly smug expression. The sight of them was seared into his mind. So short that when he’d first seen their silhouette, he’d assumed they were a child, though realized they were fully adult when he got a look at their face. Baggy, oversized, striped sweater. Ill fitting, loose cargo pants. Sharp, thin lines of their face, giving them a striking, androgynous look.

He watched them, emotions swirling in his heart. He couldn’t even feel hate right. There was too much despair. He just wanted them to stop. Whatever it took.

There didn’t used to be a box in the entryway, but by the time he’d arrived, someone had put it there. It might make things a little easier for the anomaly, but it didn’t make any difference in the end, so he couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it.

The anomaly walked next to the box, then paused and reached out, a look of sharp focus on their face. He saw that hateful golden glow that had always restored their strength. When they touched the glowing point, it often resulted in an abrupt change of expression, which implied they’d looped however many times. He watched their face intently.

Their expression did change - it wasn't the first loop. They looked frustrated by something. One death, he figured. Good, this shouldn't be too bad. For him, anyway.

They dug through the box and swapped out some items, loading their pockets to bursting. Then they reached for the glow again.

Heh. He’d made them change their loadout. Not too surprising.

This time, their expression changed more dramatically. His heart clenched at the sight of it. Calm, focused determination. They looked nearly… relaxed. They did have a faint look of frustration, though, and no hint of victory - they hadn’t beat him. How many times had he killed them? Dozens? Hundreds? The hell… and they were still trying?

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Nothing for it, he supposed. He had to keep trying. There was nothing else to try.

They approached, casually flipping their knife in the air and grinned at him when he teleported to meet them.

They'd grown more expressive since he'd first seen them emerge from the ruins. They'd initially been flat and expressionless mostly, with hints of pain and conflict. But, especially since Undyne, the depths of their insanity were on clear display. More expressions to analyze, but psychopathic ones.

Their grin now didn’t hold the faintest glimmer of pain, of remorse, of regret - of absolutely anything that could give him even the slightest reason for hope.

His hands clenched again, in his jacket pockets.

“let’s just get to the point,” he said darkly.

He had a fun little line planned, to mock them, but it seemed as pointless as everything else. Time for that promise to be broken.

“ready?” he asked wryly and launched his attack without waiting for a response.

Despair thickened in his already aching heart as they dodged with smooth, masterful precision. Swarms of bones, staggered blaster attacks with barely any conceivable possible way to dodge, dodged with seemingly effortless precision.

In another time and place, he’d have been in awe of that display. He’d have found it beautiful, incredible, awe-inspiring. He’d have been trying to figure out how to gush his praise in fun ways, because it was the sort of thing that demanded commentary.

He’d seen a lot of combat, and had never seen skill of that caliber. Though he supposed they had the benefit of memorizing his attack - they probably couldn’t dodge the unexpected quite so smoothly.

And he'd watched their fight with Undyne, which sucked in so many ways to see, but was impressive, too. Judging from their expression, combined with the extreme increase in skill, he figured they'd probably died at least several dozen times against her.

She'd done incredibly well. She'd won, again and again, and it meant nothing.

And even that skill, compared to now…

They weren't nearly this smooth. Undyne had pushed them to their absolute limit, and they'd barely survived.

They'd increased in skill dramatically.

“here we go,” he said as they gripped their knife.

They launched out in an attack, striking with terrifyingly sharp killing intent. Fuck him, he could die from an angry poke, and that… fucking hell.

He hadn’t planned on blocking anyway, or even conventional dodging. A quick timefreeze let him casually saunter to the side. A shame he could only lock down a small bubble around himself, and couldn’t interact with anything outside of it - it’d have been convenient if he could just kill the kid from within it. He’d want to alternate dodge approaches, to ease the pressure on his magic.

He grinned at them, even though they were completely unsurprised, and figured he could still run through his planned little speech. Have a little fun, before the end. No idea what else to do, anyway.

“what? you think i’m just gonna stand there and take it?” he said with a playful wink.

No reaction. Other than witnessing the impressive, yet existentially horrifying combat skill of this avatar of death and destruction, this was going to be boring, wasn’t it?

Fuck his life.

“our reports showed a massive anomaly in the timespace continuum. timelines jumping left and right, stopping and starting… until suddenly, everything ends,” he said over the course of several more strikes of devastatingly intense murderous intent.

They continued to not react. They barely seemed to hear him. They didn’t care about his reports, about the destruction of everything.

During this time, he was attacking them, too, of course. Warm up attacks, for now. It’d been a while since he stretched these muscles, and it wasn’t like he had time to practice before they showed up. Couldn’t risk wearing himself out.

They dodged everything with absolute perfection. How many times had they fought him…?

“heh heh heh… that’s your fault, isn’t it?” he asked uselessly, laughing at his own efforts.

To that, they did faintly react. A small hint of a smile tugged at their cheek. They did hear what he was saying, and it didn’t matter.

“you can’t understand how this feels,” he said, letting his pain out on his face, in his voice. If there was any hope at all… “knowing that one day, without any warning… it’s all going to be reset.”

There was something. A conflicted look, however faint, flickered in their eyes. Or… or maybe he was just seeing things out of desperation. There was no hint of it now.

“look. i gave up trying to go back a long time ago,” he said. Maybe pushing the personal angle… “and getting to the surface doesn’t really appeal anymore, either. cause even if we do… we’ll just end up right back here, without any memory of it, right?”

Had he imagined that flicker? There was another, but it was so faint.

It was probably just wishful thinking. Even if he was back at his prime, and loaded with a full seven human souls, they’d unleashed enough deadly intent to kill him several times over. That didn't seem all that conflicted.

“to be blunt… it makes it kind of hard to give it my all,” he admitted. “... or is that just a poor excuse for being lazy…? hell if i know.”

Nothing. Just more perfection in their skill, more strikes with enough power to kill him a freaking million times over.

An image of Papyrus flashed through his mind and his hands clenched again. He had to keep trying.

“all i know is… seeing what comes next… i can’t afford not to care anymore.”

They’d dodged every single regular attack without taking a single goddamned hit. He panted lightly from exertion. He was done with the warm up strikes and regular attacks. It was time to get serious.

But… but there was one more gambit he had decided to try first.

He’d seen some signs. Some indications that maybe, in another timeline, things had been different. Mostly they’d just murdered people, but that wasn’t all they’d done.

He’d seen them pause at every one of his sentry stations. They’d lingered at his favorite spot in Grillby’s, as well as a table in the MTT restaurant. They’d touched the door into his and Papyrus’s house.

They’d had an expression of pained conflict right before they’d murdered Papyrus, and had stood blankly for several seconds after he’d died. Most deaths, they moved on without a second thought. They’d paused after killing Undyne, too.

And before killing Undyne, when they’d gone to the bridge, there was the plaque that spoke of the Angel that would empty the underground. The way their expression had twisted on reading it, the tender way they’d touched it, as though they were seeing something new in it…

When he'd spoken to them in Snowdin forest, they'd been flat and expressionless, and hadn't said a single word, but he swore he saw some weird flickers of distant emotions in their eyes, especially when they looked at him. They'd just stood and stared at him, one of the only times they'd paused in their murder spree. Only him, no one else - not that many had interacted with them, other than by being killed.

Small things. Mostly, they were a featureless automaton, killing without any hint of remorse, pity, or even really seeming aware of what they were doing. Yet, those signs… maybe, maybe, in another timeline, they hadn’t been like this. Humans weren’t like this, practically never, and he was the only one in the underground who knew humans well enough to know that.

Maybe they’d been healthy once. Maybe they’d been friends once. Maybe his promise, and his decision to be good to them, maybe it had mattered once.

“ugh… that being said… you, uh, really like swinging that thing around, huh?” he asked.

He paused for a moment and they stretched out, ignoring him. They’d heard his planned entreaty. They planned on using his desperate bid to reach out to any shred of soul in them as a break to take a little breather.

His heart sank and the entreaty mostly died on his lips. He gave it vague lip service, but there was no point, was there? They’d heard all this.

“listen. friendship… it’s really great, right? let’s quit fighting,” he said uselessly.

After a short little stretch break, where he desperately prepared himself for the next string of attacks, they lashed out with another strike that bore enough intent to wipe out the whole underground at once.

“welp, it was worth a shot. guess you like doing things the hard way, huh?”

Time to get serious. Surprise - that was the key. He didn’t know what he’d do next - it had to be random. Teleport, throw some attacks, teleport, throw some more, just a rapid series of strikes, from random directions.

Finally, finally, some hits started landing. But fucking hell, they didn’t react to that either. When Undyne had hurt them - a deeply satisfying thing to see, as her spears ripped through their screaming body any time they were the slightest bit too slow - they’d still reacted. They would flinch, scream, shake, they still showed signs of getting hurt.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

His attacks tore through them, doing obvious damage, but they completely didn’t care. He’d tailored his bone attacks to strike at both the spirit and body alike, unlike most monster attacks, which only attacked the spirit. They were bleeding from the nearly physical attacks, and yet, nothing. It should have been satisfying for them to dodge a trifle slowly and have his bones rip apart the skin of their legs, leaving rivulets of blood where they’d once stood. But instead, it was yet another reason to feel helpless and hopeless.

How many times had they been hurt and killed, to be effectively immune to pain like this? For fuck’s sake… why didn’t they just give up?!

“sounds strange, but before all this i was secretly hoping we could be friends,” he confessed, just pouring his heart out uselessly. Maybe, somehow, maybe they’d hear something in his voice, maybe… god, he just wanted Papyrus to be okay… he had to keep trying.

He pulled out another trick, too. A twisting of reality itself, a power he’d only gained when he’d been torn between worlds in the failed experiment that stranded him here, at the cost of practically everyone else he’d loved, save Papyrus. It was subtle, the distortions he could make in spacetime - but he could bind someone, or tear at them. Invisible, even to magic sight, and therefore it should be undodgeable. The distortions ripped at them… but they were used to this, too, it seemed. They twisted their innate spiritual defenses, the very nature of their soul, in patterns counter to his twists of reality.

Damn it all, they’d seen everything he could do, hadn’t they?

“i always thought the anomaly was doing this cause they were unhappy. and when they got what they wanted, they would stop all this,” he continued, dodging attacks and throwing chaos at them with every goddamned sentence. “and maybe all they needed was… i dunno. some good food, some bad laughs, some nice friends.”

It hurt, saying all this, but nothing compared to the feeling of inevitable loss. He’d done a little damage, but so little. Well, enough to nearly kill them once, he supposed, but it hardly mattered. They'd learned to consume the magic of their monster food items directly, not even putting it in their mouth before the magic was broken down, flooding them, healing them. It made their healing extremely fast, suitable for mid combat.

At any other time, it would have been infuriating to see them consume the still magical flesh of the gentle Snowman they’d torn apart, but in this moment, it was just disheartening.

They were a trifle slow again with his next assault, taking a full tenth of a second to react to his teleport and bone swarm. Two of the bones managed glancing strikes. The direct damage was barely anything, but it was satisfying to see their skin go grey in the seconds following the hit.

For anyone else, even those glancing blows would have killed them several times over. His magic really wasn't compatible with life. This thing, though? Their LOVE was practically at the max, there was only the faintest hint of capacity to feel and connect remaining within them. Only the faintest hint of hope, but hope had mostly fled him.

But he couldn’t give up. For Papyrus’s sake…

“but that’s ridiculous, right? yeah, you’re the type of person who won’t EVER be happy,” he said, letting his frustration into his voice. “you’ll keep consuming timelines over and over, until… well. hey. take it from me, kid. someday… you gotta learn when to QUIT. and that day’s TODAY.”

When he’d planned these lines out, he’d hoped his battle experience would count for more. He’d hoped the sheer, overwhelming power that his damaged core could put out, with the corrosive effect that burned away life, would have made them falter. He wanted them to quit, needed them to quit. But as they danced with real skill, even against random attacks, only having used a single goddamn healing item so far… his words felt hollow.

“cause… y’see… all this fighting is really tiring me out,” he admitted.

And it was. There wasn’t much left to give. His heart ached. Was this the timeline where he’d fail? No. No, as skilled as they were, it wasn’t perfect. Surely, that final attack he’d planned… it was ridiculous what he was going to put into it, surely…

But eventually, if they didn’t give up, they’d learn it. It was a planned attack, after all, not random. But he couldn’t be truly random and put out that much raw power. It needed to be planned.

How many times could they have gotten to it, really?

He… didn’t want to think about that.

“and if you keep pushing me… then i’ll be forced to use my special attack,” he said. They’d hesitated with Papyrus. Maybe the memory of his planned special attack would count for something. “yeah, my special attack. sound familiar? well, get ready. cause after the next move, i’m going to use it. so, if you don’t wanna see it, now would be a good time to die.”

He was panting harder and they healed, a delicious smelling slice of pie that they never even tasted, breaking down into magic that restored them utterly. Damn, that was potent healing magic…

He threw a pot shot at them and wounded them a little, in the gap where they were distracted by the healing and they just grinned at him.

They looked excited. That was not a good sign. At all.

Was there any point…? But no, he had to try. An image of Papyrus’s face tormented him once again and he trembled.

Everything. He’d throw absolutely every last scrap of power at them. Maybe… maybe they’d struggle and would eventually get bored…

“well, here goes nothing… are you ready?” he asked wryly. “survive THIS, and i’ll show you my special attack!”

As he spoke, their expression transformed, and on a gut level he knew he’d lost. Maybe not in this timeline, but it was inevitable. Pure determination and focus, so sharp edged he felt like his soul was being cut from looking at their face.

There was nothing human about them now. He faced the absolute, the inevitable, the end of everything. A nightmare of world-ending power, an unstoppable abomination that would destroy everything it touched. Death incarnate, in a way even a death-magic affiliated monster such as himself could only appreciate and never achieve.

This was the end, and he was only delaying it. If he hadn’t been so emotionally exhausted from the events of the day, if he hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he was going to die and there was no way out for this version of himself, he’d have been more afraid.

Instead, there was only despair and that refusal to give up on Papyrus, even if it was completely pointless. But… maybe there was a chance he was wrong… he still had to try.

He cut loose his restraints, threw himself into memories of darker days - well, not darker than this day, admittedly - and poured out his magic. It burned him, tearing at him, taking more than he could safely give, but it didn’t matter.

Teleportation, throwing huge quantities of summoned bones at them, gravity attacks ripping them into walls that burst with bones, even trying to keep them bound in the air… he could throw a shit ton of power at them… but it was pointless.

They could shift their soul to selectively resist his gravity magic, letting them twist in midair. They could amplify it instead, letting them rush into position to jump away. When he released too much raw magic in an area, they could jump off it like it was a goddamned platform.

It didn’t matter what he could do. They’d figured out absolutely everything.

And in a strange, twisted way, he found a part of himself appreciating the sheer, astounding beauty of their skill. If he had to die for real, if he had to be destroyed by something, and lose everything… at least it was to something this incredible. At least he’d put up a good showing in the end.

The final part of his attack came. A series of blasters, summoned into a ring - it should be basically impossible to dodge. The sheer speed and precision they’d need…

They were clipped again and again. His corrosive magic consumed their life with each touch, turning their skin grey as they were drained of life. But his magic tapped out… and there they stood, with a dark grin of cruel triumph.

He panted, trying to squeeze out anything else left in him. Tried to slam them against the wall and they just laughed at him from where they'd fallen. A deranged sound, all twisted joy and a flush of new victory.

They’d never survived this part before.

They pulled themself back to their feet and grinned at him with delight.

Maybe… maybe there was a faint chance that his last gambit might work… maybe… god, maybe, somehow, Papyrus…

It hurt to even think his name.

But he wouldn’t give up. Not on Papyrus. Not until he had literally nothing left to give. He couldn’t.

He tried the last gambit. A sort of mutual binding. A twisting of reality itself, like he’d done before, but even more intense, if less directly harmful. Neither of them would be able to leave, to do anything. As long as his will held, neither of them would have any power whatsoever.

Literally, for the sake of everything, all he had to do was hang on.

He stared at the anomaly, as they poked curiously at the boundaries of the binding.

“all right. that’s it,” he said with fake grandeur. “it’s time for my special attack. are you ready?”

There was a look of resignation about them, as though they expected to die shortly, but it was quickly swallowed up by that nightmare that he’d seen before. Not as completely - their expression was more curious and uncertain, and so it lacked that sense of utter inevitability - but still, it was funny, considering nothing was heading their way.

Even with that, he caught another flicker of… something in their gaze. A hint of conflict, however faint. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recover some measure of strength for the battle of wills to come.

He’d spent way too much power, drawn too hard on his screwed up core. He desperately needed to sleep. But he had to stay focused.

“here goes nothing,” he said.

He felt them twisting and pushing at the boundaries of his binding, but they couldn’t break it. Not as long as his will held fast, and even if he faltered, they could do practically nothing. His eyes opened again, impassively watching them struggle.

Their eyes darted all around the room, on edge and ready for attacks from any angle. But there wouldn’t be any.

“yep. that’s right. it’s literally nothing,” he said, and the strangest thing happened.

A different expression crossed their face. Another flicker. But there was… something soft in their gaze. They’d never heard this joke before, and their reaction, however faintly, was… gentle appreciation, maybe? Their eyes looked like they were laughing warmly. It was such a tiny thing, but he’d gotten damned good at analyzing human expressions in general, and had studied the anomaly literally all day long.

He’d seen all sorts of tiny hints of something good and human within them, but this was the first time he’d seen something gentle. Everything else had been the sort of pain you’d expect someone to feel, if they were doing evil shit and had any heart at all. This, though…

A tiny, aching ember of hope flickered, however small.

“and it’s not gonna be anything, either. heh heh heh… ya get it?” he asked, laughing a little. It hurt to laugh, in this final moment, and he let his face show everything. Maybe, if there was a flicker of caring within them, something that thought Sans mattered… “i know i can’t beat you. one of your turns… you’re just gonna kill me.”

Another beautiful flicker, another faint whisper of empowerment to that tiny glimmer of hope. Their face showed a faint wince, a twist of conflict, of uncertainty.

Part of them didn’t want to kill him.

That begged the question of why they’d been trying for… it had to have been hours straight, at least, but still. Still.

The pile of dust in the snow. Maybe… god, maybe…

“so, uh,” he continued. “i’ve decided… it’s not gonna BE your turn. ever. i’m just gonna keep having MY turn until you give up. even if it means we have to stand here until the end of time.”

Not like he'd tell them how it actually worked, in case they could use that knowledge somehow. But it got the idea across.

Uncertainty and appreciation flashed in their eyes. They were relaxing a little as they listened to him, and their face was growing more… alive. More expressive. Less… the abomination he’d been fighting, and more human. Not really human, not even close, but… but more.

“capiche?” he asked, and they actually responded - not words, but nodding in understanding, with a little smile.

Was he actually getting through to them?

Or… or did they always react a little, the first time they encountered anything? Had they reacted the first time he’d pleaded for them to stop, on grounds of a friendship that he’d predicted they’d once had?

Maybe this didn’t mean anything. But maybe it did. God, please…

“you’ll get bored here,” he continued, pressing this last gambit. “if you haven’t gotten bored already, i mean. and then, you’ll finally quit.”

That didn’t work. He saw it on their face. A flicker of insane determination, of the will to continue. He’d said something alien to their thinking.

The thing that faced him wasn’t a thing that ever fucking quit. That was less encouraging. But he still tried.

“i know your type. you’re, uh, very determined, aren’t you?” he said, twisting his approach a little, in light of what he’d seen. “you’ll never give up, even if there’s, uh… absolutely NO benefit to persevering whatsoever.”

They actually fucking nodded. For fuck’s sake… y’know, whatever, he’d just keep going. His exhaustion was clawing at him and it was increasingly hard to think.

“if i can make that clear. no matter what, you’ll just keep going,” he said, a pleading expression on his face. Maybe, laying it out there as a thing of madness might make them question their course. Question why they were doing this.

“not out of any desire for good or evil… but just because you think you can,” he continued desperately, focusing on them with everything he had. It was hard to keep their face in focus.

Thoughtfulness. He was making them think a little.

“and because you ‘can’… you ‘have to,’” he said. Thoughtfulness, still. “but now, you’ve reached the end. there is nothing left for you now. so, uh, in my personal opinion… the most ‘determined’ thing you can do here? is to, uh, completely give up.”

He was struggling. He tried to continue.

“and…” he finished with a yawn cutting his sentence in half. “do literally anything else.”

The world was starting to spin around him. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He just met their gaze as they looked at him calmly. A strangely distant hostility, but mostly patience. Calmly watching, waiting, thinking.

Everything felt so heavy. He just had to hang on. Surely, surely, they’d get bored. They had to. Papyrus…

He was getting so dizzy. When he closed his eyes, it was so much nicer. He just had to hang on. He could feel the magic binding them. Every time they pushed at the magic, a jolt of adrenaline - his equivalent, anyway - brought his mind back. He opened his eyes. He could do this. He could…

They settled in silently to wait, continuing to just look at him with a simple, curious smile.

He hated them so much. They needed to undo this. They needed…

His eyes closed. He just had to hang on. They’d quit eventually. He just…

His breaths were heavier. He could rest. He could just let himself feel the magic, hold onto it. If ever it truly broke, he’d just teleport, he’d be fine.

He was so tired. His eyes flickered open and they’d managed to lift their knife a little. That… well, they couldn’t strike without him noticing, at least.

But they were still trying to kill him. Yet, there was a new depth of conflict in their eyes. Maybe… maybe whatever part of them didn’t want to kill him would win.

And he’d just teleport away again. Distance mattered a lot for his teleports, but he’d recovered enough strength for a short one. Didn’t know if he could truly attack, but he’d figure that out.

But no, he just wouldn’t let them go. Wouldn’t… they had to stop.

They had to.

His breaths grew deep, as though he were sleeping. He maintained the faintest flicker of consciousness, just listening and feeling his magic, ready to teleport if they managed to break away. He had to recover some strength.

A strange noise pulled his eyes open again, if only just. Had he fallen asleep? What?

It happened again. His eyes managed to focus. He was laying down, collapsed on the ground. The sound came a third time.

…sobbing? The anomaly was crying?

He could barely see, his vision was so hazy. They stood over him with the knife. How did that happen? He felt the magic, they were still bound.

Tears were flowing down their face, a strange contrast to their deadly pose. Their body held perfectly still, poised to drive the knife into him, but their expression was outright anguished.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to mess anything up. His eyes were open a bare slit, they’d have no idea he was listening.

“Sans, I…” they choked out, the first thing he'd ever heard them say.

Their face was bizarre, seemingly ripped in half, contorted by conflicting emotions. Rage, hatred, burning hostility. Gentle compassion, regret, remorse. That wasn’t the face of a sane individual. Of a single individual. What was going on…?

“I won’t,” they said, their words oddly strained, their gaze flicking to the knife, which it looked like they were trying to lower, but couldn’t.

“I will never kill you,” they said, their voice burning with something more than mere determination.

It was confusing, but it filled him with a surge of hope.

“Never,” they said again, gritting their teeth and clearly fighting something in their head. Every word was desperately strained, every syllable fought for, their face twisted in a rictus of determination and conflict.

“I’m so sorry, Sans. And I…” they said, and they forced a smile onto their face by sheer force of will. “I will always love you. Thank you for everything… goodbye.”

The knife did not fall. That Sans never figured out what was going on, but his last thoughts were those of fervent, real hope that Papyrus would be okay.

—

Frisk lay in the golden flowers, sobbing and shaking. The wall of LOVE that had shielded their soul from attacks and emotions alike hadn’t come with. Seemed like Chara was mostly gone, too. Probably back to the indistinct whisper they’d been, before Frisk had… had made that choice.

But losing that LOVE apparently meant they felt everything again. The memory of Sans like that, at the end, what they’d done… the memory of Papyrus’s face, as with his last words he told them he believed they could do a little better… the memory of Undyne’s triumphant smile at the end, as she declared her faith in Alphys, even as she melted…

They felt everything, and it hurt too much to scream.