* PRE-LOOPING (COPY PASTED FROM THE FIRST PART OF CHAPTER 1, SKIP TO “FIRST LOOP” IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THE FIRST BIT AGAIN)

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.

* FIRST LOOP

Their expression didn’t change. This was the first one, huh? A feeling of relief and hope filled him at that. There was basically no risk that the kid would win in this timeline.

That also meant he’d never broken his promise. There was still a chance - a faint one, but a chance - that he might not have to break it at all. If he tried to talk to their real self, talk to the person he’d seen in those flickers - he might reach them.

And those flickers were especially visible now. Smug curiosity and watchfulness were dominant, but there was definitely unease in the lines around their eyes as they looked around the room.

He didn’t think it’d work, but he’d try to do things the nice way first.

They approached and he teleported to meet them as they reached the halfway point. The look in their eyes when they saw him… it was interesting. The abomination he’d been watching this whole time was clear in the harsh way they smiled, but there were glints of pain and guilt in their eyes. More hope surged.

He hadn’t looked closely at them since he stopped interacting with them, since they’d murdered Papyrus. He couldn’t make out expressions quite as cleanly from the hidden camera feeds. This… maybe it would really work out.

“heya,” he greeted them casually.

They didn’t respond, but they never did. He’d never heard their voice before. They did pull out their knife, which wasn’t the best sign.

“you’ve been busy, huh?” he asked.

Beautiful. That was definitely a stab of guilt that they’d just felt. Hope surged even more strongly. Why were they feeling guilty now, with him, and not all the other times? He didn’t know, but he had noticed them being… weird with him in particular.

They were both silent for a moment, but they still didn’t respond. He’d just continue.

“so, i’ve got a question for ya,” he said, continuing to act casual. “do you think that even the worst person can change…? that everybody can be a good person, if they just try?”

It was strange to watch their face. Hints of twisting uncertainty danced in their eyes, but the smug hostility was unwavering. And their body language in general matched the cruel edge to their smile. It was their eyes alone that bore the hint of whatever humanity they’d once had, and it was faint.

And maybe powerless. They took a step forward, tauntingly.

“heh heh heh heh…” he laughed, half at himself, closing his eyes and bracing himself. “all right. well, here’s a better question.”

He let the black rage show on his face as he opened his eyes again.

“do you wanna have a bad time?” he asked darkly. “‘cause if you take another step forward… you are REALLY not going to like what happens next.”

They looked utterly unconcerned - amused, even, as they took another deliberate step forward. He felt his heart break a little at the sight. The last hope that he could have kept his promise had broken with that step. The sound of his knock knock buddy’s laugh, and her pleading sobs to make that promise, echoed in his mind with that break.

“welp,” he said, still trying to sound casual despite the pain in his heart. “sorry, old lady. this is why i never make promises.”

Why did it have to be this way…

He sighed a little. It’s not like he really expected it to be different. Still, it hurt. He started to draw on his magic. Might as well have some fun mocking them before ending this timeline abruptly.

He knew he had time. The anomaly always paused to listen to what people had to say before fights. Even with Undyne, even though they’d obviously died a few dozen times and had heard it all already. They'd been impatient but weirdly respectful as they'd waited for her to fully transform and ready herself.

With Muffet, they’d actually just dangled in her web, peacefully listening as they dodged, until she’d decided to spare them. Then, of course, they’d lashed out and slain her mercilessly. But the point remained.

With this being the first loop, he was confident they wouldn’t attack until he either stopped talking or was obviously delaying them. Even in later loops it'd probably be true.

“it’s a beautiful day outside. birds are singing, flowers are blooming…” he said, and interestingly enough, that provoked another strong reaction.

The main part of them, the main part of their reactions - the inhuman part - shifted to be more hostile, like his words had made them angry. But, faintly in their eyes, he saw a lash of recognition and hurt. Huh.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

“on days like these, kids like you…” he said, and finished drawing on his magic.

The touch of hope he’d felt had eased the despair somewhat - enough for hate to fully take his heart. He let it show on his face and in his voice.

“should be burning in hell.”

With no further warning, he began his attack. They were still reacting to his words, odd emotions flickering in their gaze, when they cried out from being slammed to the floor and impaled by bones. Their scream of pain was music to his ears.

Their reflexes were good, but not nearly good enough. They pulled themself from the bones on the ground in time to survive, barely, only to be caught by a swarm of summoned bones surging to their position. It caught them from behind.

The last moments of that Sans’ existence were full of the deep satisfaction that came from the agonized screaming of his brother’s killer. Even if he knew it didn’t actually matter.

* SECOND LOOP

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.

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.

Their expression didn’t change this time. He nodded to himself. Second loop. Should be a cakewalk. And there was no point in trying to play nice with them, trying to avoid breaking his promise. The previous Sans would have already tried.

They approached, frustration and annoyance dominating their face. He weirdly thought he saw a glint of amusement in their eyes, for some reason. Maybe they liked his jokes?

“heya,” he said, feeling a little amused himself. “you look frustrated by something.”

They gritted their teeth at him and he grinned broadly.

“guess i’m pretty good at my job, huh?” he taunted.

Another odd flicker of amusement in their eyes, but they still looked mainly irritated and wary. They were clearly bracing themself.

He was pretty sure they hadn’t survived his first attack. There was too much uncertainty, too little confidence. Oh, sure, there was an underlying confidence - they had faith in their immortality, and for good reason - but they didn’t look confident about the incoming attack.

He wondered how many times they’d die to it. Hopefully lots, and they’d give up this whole path out of sheer frustration.

He wanted to accustom them to the timing of things, so he’d continue to say his little mocking line he’d come up with, so a future Sans could turn it on them.

He told them about the birds and flowers, and how they should be burning in hell, then attacked. They were clearly expecting the slam to the ground, and they launched themself away fairly smoothly. They spun around and saw the wall of bones coming their way.

“Fucking hell,” they muttered, and he laughed.

First words he’d ever heard from them, and they were good ones.

They did not even slightly figure out how to dodge through the surge of bones and were torn to screaming, bloody shreds.

That Sans’ last moments were full of laughter and the sound of a murderer’s gurgled screaming.

* ELEVENTH LOOP

The anomaly’s expression changed as they saved - 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.

Their expression changed again and he considered it thoughtfully. It was a blend of frustration, expectation, fatigue, exasperation, determination, focus. Not even the faintest hint of victory - he was pretty sure they hadn’t even survived his opening attack yet. He grinned.

He hummed to himself as they made their way towards him, almost stomping in frustration. Ten, he decided. They’d died ten times. It was really hard to judge. Future Sans-es would have some trouble.

“hmm. that expression…” he said as they paused, reaching him. He was dragging this out for fun. “that’s the expression of someone who’s died ten times in a row.”

He grinned at them.

“hey, congrats!” he said in a playfully cheerful tone. “the big one-oh! let’s invite all your friends over for a big shindig.”

Heh heh heh… they winced at that, however faintly. Served the freak right.

“we can have pie, and hot dogs, and…”

That looked like actual pain in their eyes. Good.

“hmmm… wait. something’s not right,” he continued blithely, playfully putting on a confused expression, and then let his face and voice go dark. “you don’t have any friends.”

He was feeling quite pleased with himself at the blended look of pain and frustration his words elicited.

Next, he mocked them with his planned line about birds, flowers, and condemnations to hell. It looked like his plan was working. They were relaxing as he spoke, clearly expecting safety until he finished his line. He’d continue to let them build that expectation till they survived, assuming they kept coming back.

Magic poured from his soul, manifesting into the world one physics-defying step at a time. Part of his mind tracked the attack as he actioned his plan, and the rest of his mind watched their reaction.

Their skills were maybe a little sharper than when they’d fought Undyne, and they clearly knew what to expect, but his attack was deliberately excessive. It tore through them and they were trying not to scream, trying to keep their breath as they dodged with desperate strength. His magic kept clipping them, even when they mostly dodged right, and he could see their skin growing sallow and grey from his corrosive magic tearing at them. Honestly, they were doing a solid job, and if his magic weren’t so corrosive, they’d probably be fine, due to the sheer amount of LOVE they’d acquired.

The attack ended, after a massive gaster blaster had burned a swath down the hallway. They’d survived it, disappointingly. They lay in a pool of blood and dragged themself to their feet as he took a moment to draw his strength for another attack - a regular one, not something quite that intense.

“huh,” Sans said idly. “always wondered why people never use their strongest attack first.”

“I… I did it?” they asked, staring down at their hands in bewilderment. “I actually survived?”

“nope,” Sans said, laughing, as he launched a second attack.

They’d taken so long marveling at their own survival he’d had time to attack again.

That Sans also ended laughing, but the screams he was hearing were of intense frustration and pain, instead of just gurgling death noises.

* TWELFTH LOOP

After saving and changing out their loadout, the anomaly reached for the glow again.

Their expression changed and he considered it thoughtfully. It was a blend of frustration, expectation, fatigue, exasperation, determination, focus. There was the faintest hint of partial victory - his best guess was that they’d just barely survived his opening attack.

He hummed to himself as they made their way towards him, almost stomping in frustration. Eleven, he decided. They’d died eleven times. He was pretty sure, anyway.

They made their way to him with hostility, frustration, and a hint of curiosity playing in their eyes. They wanted to know what he’d say this time. Sure, he could oblige them.

“hmm. that expression,” he said, drawing it out for fun. “that’s the expression of someone who’s died eleven times in a row. well, give or take. there’s nuance to this stuff. don’t think i’ll be able to count very well from here. count for me, okay?”

Their lips quirked into a bemused smile.

They shouldn’t be smiling. A surge of anger filled him and his voice went dark.

“we’ll start from twelve,” he said.

They settled themself into a combat ready pose and waited, listening. He grinned. They were relaxed, confident in their safety as he mocked them with damnations to hell.

“it’s a beautiful day outside,” he said, trying to keep his voice the same as he’d have done normally. “birds are singing…”

Without completing the line, or any further warning, he launched his attack. He started laughing from their first shriek of surprise, and continued to laugh as they were ripped apart by the opening phases of his attack.

Man, it was a shame no other Sans would be able to remember the look on their face. It was priceless.

* SIXTEENTH LOOP

After saving and changing out their loadout, the anomaly reached for the glow again.

Their expression changed and he considered it thoughtfully. That blend of emotions in their eyes… about a dozen or so deaths, probably? He sighed. Hopefully they’d quit soon. He’d had a fun idea of judging how many times they’d died by their expression and taunting them about it, but after a dozen deaths, it’d be too hard to pinpoint. He wouldn’t want to repeat himself, not with those taunts - that wasn’t the point.

Their ridiculous determination to keep going was sucking all of the fun out for him. At least he didn’t see anything particularly dangerous in their gaze - beyond the nightmarish commitment to slaughter he’d been seeing all this time. The uncertainty in their expression made him convinced that they had barely gotten past his opening strike.

They approached with some confidence in their stride. They knew what to expect. Well, things weren’t exactly looking up, but he had a lot of planned angles of attack, emotionally and otherwise. There was a chance something might work. And he seriously doubted they’d survive this timeline. For this version of Sans, things were going according to plan.

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

Combat ready and braced. They were expecting an attack at any time. Guess he wouldn’t bother using his cute little line he’d thought of to mock them.

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

This wasn’t so bad. They’d clearly memorized it, but it was still a struggle. Swarms of bones, staggered blaster attacks - they wove through with harsh, forceful movements, and were clipped by his attacks again and again and again. A solid job, all told, but not nearly good enough, especially with the corrosive effect of his magic.

After his attack ended, they pulled themself quickly from the bloody puddle on the ground and grabbed a delicious smelling piece of pie from one of their pockets. It was a bit squished, but he could practically taste the healing magic from here.

They broke down and consumed the magic without tasting it, just like they’d done with previous battles where they’d been injured. It was a shame, but also, where did they even get that pie? It was one of the most potent healing items he’d seen.

“What the hell?” they asked, their eyes glazed over as the healing washed over them. “Why am I still burning…?”

Heh heh heh. First time he’d heard any words from them, and it was a good thing to hear. They’d noticed the corrosive effect, had they? Funny how not even healing magic could counter its burn - sure, it’d clean up the aftermath, but if both were in a soul at once, his magic won.

Regardless, eating the pie bought him time to launch a second attack. Now that his opener was out of the way, it was time to stretch his muscles, metaphorically speaking. He started with some warm up attacks. Unless they quit - and he really hoped they would soon - this would get pretty intense, and he needed to pace himself.

His warm up strikes were no joke, though. They struggled, and had several rounds of just desperately consuming their items in between attacks. They looked exhausted - probably because of how inefficiently and aggressively they were trying to dodge.

They looked resigned as they gripped their knife, still bleeding heavily from his last attack. They looked at him and moved to strike.

Timefreeze. He studied their face in the frozen moment, before stepping aside, out of range.

Strange. The look on their face, just as they were about to attack - it was complicated. He’d have sworn there was a hint of attachment and a strange sort of fear in their eyes. He’d guessed that in another timeline, they might have cared about him, but still. Why would they be afraid of attacking him?

That had to be a good sign, right? Even if he didn’t know what it meant.

“what?” he asked with a playful wink as time resumed flowing. “you think i’m just gonna stand there and take it?”

They obviously had expected just that. Their jaw was practically on the ground as they gaped at him in shock. And again, there was something weird in their gaze… appreciation, relief, maybe? Mostly annoyed hostility, but those little flickers were interesting…

Welp, that was for a future Sans to figure out. The kid was so stunned that they failed to dodge properly, and the timeline ended with more gurgled screams.

* ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY SEVENTH LOOP

After saving and changing out their loadout, the anomaly reached for the glow again.

Their expression changed dramatically and his heart sank a little. Calm, focused determination, resigned frustration. How many times had he killed them? Dozens, at least. They still weren’t giving up?

And they had no expectation whatsoever of winning. That resignation on their face - they were fully expecting to learn more, die, and try again.

They could just… stop trying…

Why the hell were they even doing this?

At least he didn’t feel hugely worried about this timeline. If they didn’t expect any chance of getting past him this loop, far be it for him to think otherwise.

And hey, who knows? Maybe one of his gambits might work. They probably hadn’t seen everything yet.

Still. As they approached him with their knife in hand and cool focus on their face, he felt a surge of frustration at the pointlessness of everything. For Papyrus’s sake, he had to make them quit, and they just…

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

Without another hint of warning, he launched his opening strike. His heart sank a little. They’d clearly gotten used to it and their movements were excellent. Imperfect, but graceful. Swarms of bones, staggered blaster attacks with barely any time to dodge - evaded smoothly, with bare touches of his magic corroding their soul.

“here we go,” he said as they survived.

They launched out with a deadly strike and he felt a surge of primal fear from the sharp intent sheathing that blade. He could die from an angry poke, and that… fucking hell.

Time froze as he casually sidestepped their strike. They didn’t seem in the least surprised when time resumed.

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

No reaction. Other than the fun of ripping apart the thing that killed his brother, this was going to be boring, wasn’t it? At least till he tried a gambit they’d never seen before.

He sighed.

“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 excessively 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 clearly knew all these attacks, and had gotten some of them figured out. A few times, they managed fully perfect dodges, even.

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

To that, they did faintly react. Conflict burned in their gaze, and hate pulled at their lips. The conflict was a good thing to see.

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

That looked like pain, in their eyes. Still, hate and hostility were dominant in the cruel smile on their face, but it looked like he’d hurt them.

If it hurt them to know how he felt…

“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?”

Another flicker of conflicted pain in their gaze, as clear as it was confusing. They were attacking him with enough deadly intent to kill him a few thousand times over with a single strike - this version of him, anyway. At his prime, loaded with a full set of seven human souls, he could have taken a few hits, he figured. But regardless, attacks like that didn’t seem all that conflicted. So what the hell was he seeing?

“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.”

That couldn’t be a hint of sympathy, could it?

None of this made any damned sense. They were plowing through their items, consuming the magic in increasingly desperate bids to stay alive. They were attacking him with a ridiculously intense intent to kill. If there was something in them that cared, then why…?

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.”

He panted lightly from exertion as they gasped for air, sweat and blood soaking their clothes. 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.

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, and the flickers he’d seen in this battle… 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.

They gasped for air as he settled out of a combative stance. They gave him a confused look as he paused and let them breathe, instead of attacking.

“listen,” he said, making his voice gentle, and their confusion grew. Their knife hand lowered. “i know you didn’t answer me before, but…”

He hadn’t asked in this timeline, but that hardly mattered. He closed his eyes for a moment. He had to sell this right. Had to focus on the hope, on what he’d felt first thing this morning, what he’d planned, about trying to befriend them.

“somewhere in there. i can feel it,” he said, opening his eyes and letting peaceful hope cover his face. “there’s a glimmer of a good person inside of you.”

That expression…

His heart clenched with a surge of hope so strong it was painful.

Wide eyed, agonized, disbelieving uncertainty. The knife trembled in their grip.

“the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing,” he continued, his soft smile growing more genuine at the hope that ripped through his chest. Was this actually going to work? “someone who, in another time, might have even been…”

His eyes closed briefly. This was hard to say. It was too real, and too opposed to the hate he was trying not to let himself feel.

“... a friend?”

A pained whimper escaped the abomination he faced. He looked at them, at the tears starting to fill their eyes, and winked at them.

“c’mon, buddy,” he said. “do you remember me?”

“I…” they said, tears starting to fall.

It was actually working. Maybe they really had been friends in another timeline. That begged the question of what the hell they were doing now, but…

God, maybe. An image of Papyrus filled his mind and he clenched his hand in his jacket pocket. He needed to not screw this up. Gentle acceptance, call on those feelings of friendship, any shred of it within them.

“please, if you’re listening…” he said, and he closed his eyes again.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

It was hard to shove all the hostility away. Begging them like this… it was like the snowman, who begged them to stop as they ripped him to pieces and put those pieces in their pockets. Pieces he'd watched them consume, for the restorative magic. It was like the shopkeeper, who left a note begging the human to not hurt her family.

Like Papyrus, who hadn’t begged, but who’d tried to call on their good nature, too. Who, unlike Sans, would have really believed in that goodness.

But if it worked, none of that mattered. None of that would have even happened.

“let’s forget all this, ok?” he asked, and then winked again. “just lay down your weapon, and…”

His eyes closed again, pushing back another surge of hate. For this to work, they needed to see the gentleness. It was kinda difficult.

“well, my job will be a lot easier,” he said.

He didn’t want to lie to them. Didn’t think that’d work out too well, what with them remembering everything.

He left it at that and just looked at them, holding onto gentleness and kindness as best he could, willing them to accept it, to stop this.

Tears were falling from their face and their knife shook in their hand. With a loud clatter, their knife fell to the tile floor.

It was actually, honestly working.

They took a tentative step forward, reaching out to him, their face twisted in pain, regret, and sorrow.

“you’re sparing me?” he asked, amused and mildly exasperated that, of all the things… “finally. buddy. pal.”

Eh, he wasn’t doing the world’s best job of keeping the edge out of his voice, but they didn’t seem to care, taking another uncertain step forward.

“i know how hard it must be… to make that choice,” he said. “to go back on everything you’ve worked up to.”

Even if he still had no damned clue why.

“i want you to know… i won’t let it go to waste,” he said.

Did they have any idea that he was about to kill them? He couldn’t help but grin. He opened his arms, as though for a hug. Just like Papyrus had.

A broken sob ripped from them and their entire body shook as they moved forward.

“c’mere, pal,” he said, and they actually did.

They threw themself at him, sobbing, and his magic was unleashed. From this range, there wasn’t a chance of them dodging. Bones ripped through their body, pouring buckets of blood onto the ground.

“get dunked on,” he said, drawing out the words with a dark laugh at their scream of pain.

They didn’t stop clinging to his jacket, and a strange smile had crossed their face. It was an odd feeling, having them in his arms like this, with that smile on their face. Like he was looking into another time, looking at the way things could have been. Should have been.

He summoned some blasters. He wanted them to die with exactly the right timing. And this next bit… he let them see the truth of it all, the pain, the hope, everything.

“if we’re really friends…” he said, as they gazed up at him with an impossibly complex expression. “you won’t come back.”

The last blasters fired, and that Sans ceased to exist.

* ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY EIGHTH LOOP

After saving and changing out their loadout, the anomaly reached for the glow again.

A ripping, tearing, heart-wrenching scream tore from them as soon as they’d done so, making Sans reel in bewildered confusion.

What the living fuck?

They were on the ground, writhing and screaming, tears pouring from their face. He moved a little closer.

What the hell was going on? It couldn’t be physical pain from something he’d done, could it? His attacks were more physical than other monsters, but…

But no, that couldn’t be it. They should have recovered faster than this, if it was just a memory of pain.

They did settle after a minute or two, sobbing desperately, brokenly. He’d planned on reaching for the humanity in them. Had it worked…? But then, why did they come back?

He couldn’t see their face too clearly, but the expression of the freakish abomination mostly seemed gone. They looked like a traumatized kid, not a nightmare of endless murders.

Uh. Maybe talking would be good?

He teleported close enough to talk.

“hey, kid,” he began uncertainly.

“No!” they shrieked, a sound so shrill it was painful.

They looked up at him and their expression was so rich it knocked him back again. He’d mostly been analyzing subtle expressions, with the cool, focused, determination of the abomination being dominant, and only flickers of other emotions throughout their journey.

There was nothing subtle about this.

Their face was agonized, horrified. He paused time just to give himself time to process it all. They were afraid of him? That didn’t seem right. Especially since he was pretty sure they’d died once before the second save. If the opening attack didn’t cause any fear, he couldn’t imagine anything else he was going to do that could cause that reaction.

Was it something he’d said?

He’d gotten a hint of something human in them, but not really any idea who they were, beneath it all. It was only faint flickers, after all. He wasn’t even certain there was anything human left in them - well, prior to now. He guessed there was, hoped there was, and had made plans off of that hope, since there was nothing else to hope for. Well, beyond making them give up from frustration.

“I… I can’t, Sans, I just…” they whimpered as his timefreeze lapsed, sobbing.

They curled up into a ball, crying into their knees, their back to him.

Should he kill them…?

They were actually talking, though. Maybe he could learn something useful? He teleported to the other side, so he could see their face between their knees. Their eyes were closed.

“whatever’s wrong, maybe i can help,” he offered.

If they needed to heal into being a reasonably decent person? Yeah, he was all for that plan.

But that made them scream again, another heart-wrenching sound of desperate agony. He’d have sworn he was torturing them with his words, from the sounds they were making. Damn it, he was trying to be nice. For selfish reasons, but still.

They babbled more words - his name, “can’t,” “won’t,” “please,” and “I” were dominant, but there wasn't anything coherent. They shook with their sobs. Maybe he should just give them a minute to settle down before trying again?

An odd expression crossed their face, as their sobs began to ease.

“I shouldn’t…” they whimpered, and then he saw something he’d been hoping to see.

Except, in this situation, he was unsure how to feel about it.

A look of surrender covered their face. They were giving up.

“I accept,” they whispered.

And the human disappeared.

The crying stopped and their body stilled. They wiped at their face with a frustrated, disgusted expression and pulled to their feet, perfectly steady. They grinned at him and grabbed their knife.

The humanity he’d seen flickering this whole time was entirely gone. Only the nightmare, the abomination, remained.

This was really not good. And worse, this was useful information. The human was messed up in the head - well, he already had figured out that much - but in a way of a split personality or something. Or possession. But he needed to target the right one. The human soul, not the murderous thing.

If he killed them, he’d forget. And from what he just witnessed, future Sans-es would only see the thing, wouldn’t they?

Damn it all.

They grinned at him with a terrifying confidence. Not in any immediate sense - he didn’t get the feeling that they thought they were close to defeating him - but in an overall sense. They knew there was nothing he could do to stop them. Only slow them down.

“kid, are you still in there?” he asked as they approached.

Hateful rage twisted their face… but a hint of pain flickered in their eyes. Incredibly faint, but he was sure he saw it.

“Do not talk to them,” they hissed, pulling out their knife and rushing him.

Huh. Interesting. The kid was still there. Could still hear him.

He didn’t want to kill them, yet. He didn’t want to forget, to lose this opportunity.

“i get the feeling the kid likes my jokes more than you do,” he said. “why wouldn’t i talk to them?”

“Enough,” they growled, slashing at him.

He used a timefreeze to dodge, but didn’t attack.

“whatever’s going on, kid, i bet i can help more than this thing can,” he said.

A twisted, pained look flickered in their eyes. But the abomination remained in control as the wave passed. The hint of humanity fully disappeared again.

“Fine,” they said. “If you won’t fight me properly, I’ll just start the fight over.”

He extended a hand, but it wasn’t like he could stop them. Damn it, he didn’t want to forget…

They had an odd look of frustration on their face for a moment.

“wait,” he said, but they ignored him.

With a resigned, disgusted look, they sighed, turned the knife around and drove it into their heart.

* ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINTH LOOP

After saving and changing out their loadout, the anomaly reached for the glow again.

Their expression changed more dramatically and his heart clenched. Focused determination, with some hints of anger and frustration. A blend of confidence that told him that they’d gotten through quite a bit of what he was going to throw at them, but no hint of true victory. He had to have killed them dozens of times.

And they were still trying.

He swallowed. What 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.

His heart sank as his attack was launched. They dodged smoothly and masterfully. Not perfect, but damned close, as they slid through scores of summoned bones and bombardments of blasters.

They were unsurprised when he was able to dodge attacks, and unconcerned about his appeals. No reaction to his reports, to his mentions of his past and possible connections, nothing. Tiny little flickers of emotion around their eyes, so faint it could just be his imagination. Mostly it was anger and hate - the most he’d seen yet, towards anyone.

Well, they had seemed pretty pissed at Muffet, come to think of it.

He suppressed a sigh. If they were this pissed at his fight, they could just… quit fighting him. It’s not like he wanted to be here.

The two shared their deadly little dance until his warmup was done. Time to try his gambit of mercy that he’d planned.

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

He paused for a moment and they ate some food to heal, just taking his lack of attack for granted. 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.

Their face twisted in rage again as they launched out to attack. The strikes had already been strong enough to kill him many thousands of times over, but this was another level.

“whoa, you look REALLY pissed off…” he said with a laugh. “heheheh… did i getcha?”

The fury on their face was something else. His eyes closed for a moment. He let the sorrow of what could have been touch his face.

“well, if you came back anyway… i guess that means we never really WERE friends, huh?”

They shrieked and closed their eyes, reeling back as though in pain, their teeth gritted in rage. Whatever was happening, it was working.

“heh. don’t tell that to the other sans-es, ok?” he said.

“No!” they screamed, ripping at their face with their hands, leaving bloody streaks. “Don’t talk to them!”

This was really weird. “Them?” Was… was the human being possessed by something? That might explain a few things, actually.

And nothing was going to get him to talk quite like telling him not to.

“so you weren’t my friend, but they were?” he asked.

He’d hesitated to attack them, and they lashed out with a strike laced with enough intent to wipe out a chunk of the underground. Yikes. Maybe he shouldn’t mess around.

He launched another attack, but a fairly regular one, a standard bone swarm - he wasn’t sure what to do with this situation.

But weirdly, instead of dodging, they rushed into the attack and gave him a bizarre look of triumph as their body was rent and they died.

That was the last Sans who saw any hint of their true self before the final battle.

* THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SEVENTH LOOP

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.

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.