Sans awoke from the nightmare in a cold sweat. He sat bolt upright, his body chilly even in the heat of Hotland, and he looked around his room wildly. Everything was quiet, and dark. He was alone. He calmed down. Just a dream. None of it was real.

He felt as if he had been asleep for days, and so he whipped off the blankets and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He stood up, stretching out his bones. He wondered what was for breakfast. He wondered idly what pancakes and ketchup would taste like.

He picked a white shirt up off the ground and slipped it on, and then pulled on a pair of basketball shorts over his boxers. He then slipped his feet into a pair of blue slippers, and left his room. He felt like maybe he was up early. He never got up so promptly after waking.

Once he was out in the hall, he called out, "Dad! What's for breakfast? I'm starving."

There was no answer from down below. Everything was still and silent, with only the hum of the escalators lending the scene any noise at all. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped onto one, letting it carry him down into the living room.

"Dad, did you hear me?"

He could smell something burning. Odd. His father was a good cook, and rarely burned anything. However, when Sans poked his head into the kitchen door and looked in, he saw no one. The oven wasn't on, and his father was not there.

He furrowed his brow, and gave another sniff to the air. It wasn't a burning smell like food. He realized it was more like the hot tang of melted solder, or burning tires, and that it was coming from downstairs in the lab.

"Papyrus!" he called out, "Where's Dad?"

No answer. He was beginning to get scared. Early in the morning was Papyrus' time. Every morning he got up even before Gaster to do whatever it is crazy people do early in the morning when they're too young to like the taste of coffee. Sans ran up the up-escalator, and rushed into Papyrus' room. There was no one there.

"Papyrus?" he said, quietly, "Papyrus, where are you?"

He looked around, remembering vaguely that he had sent the kid on a game of hide and seek and then abandoned the game for some reason... or was that a dream?

"Ready or not, here I come," Sans said, trying to keep his spirits up. However, he felt his fear well up within his chest as he began to look around Papyrus' room, at first slowly and deliberately, and then with frantic energy, crying out his brother's name as he wandered.

He checked behind furniture. He checked inside the closet, he checked under the covers. Finally, the last place he hadn't looked was underneath Papyrus' racecar-shaped bed. It was awkward to see between the wheels, but there was certainly just enough room for his brother to squeeze under and hide. He fell to his knees and looked.

"Papyrus?" he whispered under the bed. He couldn't see anything. Shivering, Sans reached a hand underneath the bed and began to grope around for some clue about what was going on. Papyrus was a clean kid, and he didn't throw any toys or anything under his bed. Sans couldn't feel much of anything, until his fingers touched something soft, like a piece of cloth. He grabbed hold of it, and pulled it out, dragging it into the light.

It was a red scarf, covered in dust. Sans' hand, from all the patting around underneath the bed, was coated in a thick layer of gray dust as well. He stared at the scarf, and a look of horror played across his face. His grip on the scarf weakened and he let it drop to the floor, and stared at his hands, filthy with the ashes beneath Papyrus' bed. His eyes went wide, and tears welled up in them.

Shaking his hand to get the lingering remains of his brother off of them, he screamed and ran out of the room. He was screaming for his father, for anyone, to come help him. He ran to the escalator and nearly fell down it, but he caught himself on the hand rail. He was carried, on his knees, down to the living room, clenching his dirty fist and shaking it. He realized that he was sobbing. He didn't understand what was going on. He had to find his father.

He got up once he was at the bottom of the escalator, and ran for the lab entrance. He ran down the stairs and into the laboratory proper, and once he got to the bottom, he was taken aback by the state of the room.

His father's workbench was overturned, and shards of glass littered the floor. Not only that, but the machine in the middle, that tall tube that gave Sans a headache to look at, was popping and smoking, with sparks flying off of it. He stared at it, his eyes traveling to the blue, winking eye of the Paradox Engine above, and came to the sudden realization.

It wasn't a nightmare. It was all real. It was happening even as he stood there, looking numbly at the scene he had caused. It wasn't just his brother that had been reduced to dust where he stood. By the way the Paradox engine was sparking, and by the headache that was starting, the engine could not contain the amount of sheer paradoxes happening at every moment due to Gaster's influence. He could almost see it, everyone all at once loaded down with the body-destroying horror of existing in an infinite number of places at once without a safety net. They must have been in intense pain for a half second, before they were all reduced to ashes.

But why was he spared?

He looked away from the time machine, the headache getting to be too much. He touched his forehead with a finger and felt something wet there, where his skull had cracked weeks and weeks ago. He pulled his hand away and was alarmed to find his fingertips coated in something bright red, as red as the human's SOUL.

DETERMINATION. That was the answer. Whatever the DETERMINATION had done to his body had made him somehow immune to the ill effects of overloading the timeline with constant paradoxes. His will to go on overrode the laws of the universe. He had died when Gaster killed him, but he LOADed his state back to his own timeline, before he left. No other monster had that power.

He suddenly saw it, that yellow spark again, nearby the time machine. His mind raced with thoughts of how to defeat his father once and for all, and he had a sudden thought.

Sans realizing that he could use the Paradox Engine against his father filled him with DETERMINATION.

He turned back to the time machine, before rushing past it and pulling the power cord out of it. It hummed for a moment, before it turned itself off, and the sparks subsided. He then dragged a stepstool over to the machine, screwdriver in hand, and climbed up to the top of the time machine. He didn't have time to waste. The Paradox Engine, fueled by some inner machinery which kept the blue light on, was held on by four screws and a handful of wires. He yanked the wires out and held the engine in his hands, and contact with it seemed to make him feel better, as if it was correcting his personal timeline. The wound on his forehead spontaneously closed itself up. He was safe, and it gave him an idea.

If this machine corrected paradoxes for anything it touched, what would it do if it came into contact with a being which was made up of seven copies of the same SOUL? Surely that is the largest paradox of all. The engine was even smaller than he had supposed before. Still, he knew that if he walked up to Gaster with it in hand, his father would realize what was happening and take steps to stop him. He had to put Gaster off guard. He had to hide it.

He ran over to the work bench and righted it, and then went to work. He laid the Paradox Engine on the table, and considered his options. Carrying it in a bag or in a pocket was out. It would only give Gaster a clear target. He considered his ribcage, but he would have had to rearrange his ribs to form a solid bottom, and he had no time. Finally, he realized the perfect place for it, where Gaster would never expect. His DETERMINATION roiled as he reached up, slowly, placing his hands on either side of his head. He closed his eyes, sure this was going to hurt, and, with a sharp yank, pulled off his head.

The sensation was indescribable. Unlike before, he wasn't made numb by the hallucinatory nature of the DETERMINATION injection. The top of his vertebrae was alight in phantom pain almost immediately, and his head was screaming in a sharp sting where the skull should have met the spine. Even so, he worked through the pain. He turned his own head upside down, making sure to rotate his face so he could see the Paradox Engine, and then got to work. The hole at the base of the skull, where the spine met his empty brain pan, was just big enough. Carefully, he dropped the Paradox engine inside.

Now came the hard part. He gathered a roll of duct tape, and, without looking, he had to reach his fingers inside of his eyesocket and grope around until he found the device. He couldn't hold himself back from flinching every moment he felt his fingers touch the sides of his eyesocket, or the inside of his skull, but eventually, he found the device, and placed it where it needed to go. He carried his skull across the room to another workbench, where a clamp was set on the side of the table, and gently placed his head into it, before tightening it just enough so that his head could not move while he worked. The pressure on either side of his head scared him, as any more pressure would crush his head and kill him instantly, but he was too far along with this crazy scheme to run it back now.

With his hands free, he tore off a strip of duct tape, and then reached back inside of his eyesocket. He taped the engine to the side of his skull, and then, hurriedly, pull his fingers out and loosened the clamp. He was eager to put his head back on. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life, and as soon as the top of his spine met the base of his skull, a feeling a grand, healing relief flowed across his entire body. It felt good to be whole again.

Still, he couldn't enjoy it for long. He took a moment to inspect himself in the polished steel tabletop, and found that the blue glow of the Paradox Engine resembled his own eye, and if he concentrated, his own true eye's darkness would obscure the blue glow from view. The perfect hiding place.

He raced back up the stairs, into the living room, and out the door to the laboratory. He had work to do.

–

Sans was not ready for the state of the capitol when the elevator doors opened.

The air was dark with smoke, and alive with the sound of alarms. Despite the smell and noise, however, the whole city was deathly still. Nothing was moving, no one was on the street, and the whole places seemed abandoned. It seemed to be fairly early in the morning when Gaster's influence began to spread throughout the underground, and so he saw few little piles of gray ash lining the gutter, but the thought reminded him of finding what was left of his brother underneath his bed. He wondered how many other beds were coated in dust.

He forced the thoughts out of his head and kept walking. He knew where Gaster was, he could feel him. The king's throne room. That is where the paradoxes were originating, and that is where his DETERMINATION cried out for him to go.

He marched up the street, hands in pockets, and tried not to take in the view of the ghost town that the Capitol had become. In apartments high up in the buildings, fires had sprung to life where ovens or fire magic had been left unattended. That was where the klaxons were from, as buildings with automatic fire alarms called for help that would never come.

Sans paused as he walked past the little park he had taken Papyrus not long ago. It already seemed like it had been weeks ago, or perhaps it was just yesterday. He paused, staring though the chain link fence at the basketball hoop, and thought back to his brother.

Suddenly, as he stared, he remembered the events of that day, about how his father had knocked Papyrus over. He then remembered the event again, differently; Papyrus had stayed up, and they continued the game. He remembered it again, this time Sans had been knocked over. Again, Gaster had fallen, and Sans and Papyrus helped him up. Again, Sans knocked Papyrus over and Gaster became angry with him. It was all the same event, but the events were so different, so contradictory, that Sans began to become confused. He had forgotten which one was true. What was he looking at? Why were his memories going so haywire?

Another headache ripped through his skull and he looked away from the court. He realized in an instant what had happened. What he was seeing weren't memories. They were timelines – the same event happening simultaneously over the course of an infinite number of variations and possibilities. His eye glowed blue, and he could feel the Paradox Engine in his head, sorting out the sudden time-distortion swimming through his mind. Soon, he remembered the truth; his own personal timeline. All of the rest faded from existence and disappeared, collapsing into nothingness with nothing to tether themselves to.

But why? What was causing it?

Gaster. Somehow or other, Gaster, using the power of the human SOULS, was collapsing the multiverse down to a single point. That is why he was remembering contradictory things; in that moment, everything in every possible universe was occurring all at once forever, tearing the fabric of time and space. It sorted itself out eventually, but not without disastrous consequences for anyone without the Paradox Engine.

That must have been what killed everyone, Sans thought, They saw something familiar, and an infinite amount of possible memories tried to flow into their brains. It burned out the minds, and then their bodies, and they died instantly.

He turned back towards the castle and continued to walk. He'd had enough of this. Enough of losing everything. No matter what, he was going to defeat Gaster, or whoever he was now, and he would force him to bring everyone back.

–

The castle's defenses were down. The front gate, usually protected by two royal guards, was guarded only by piles of dust with empty black armor collapsed around them. Sans had free reign of the place, and walked though easily. He was happy when he came to an area that was unfamiliar to him. Several times during his walk through the capitol, he came across places he remembered – the nice cream stand, the supermarket, the convenience store – and every time, just like with the park, he would be bombarded with memories that weren't his, which the Paradox Engine had to sort out. Without strong personal memories attached to a place, he hoped that he was safe from bombardment, at least for a little while.

Within the castle, everything was a strange, melancholy gray. With the alarms and fire of the Capitol behind him, everything was silence. He was glad he was still wearing his house slippers, or else the tapping of shoes on the stone floor would have driven him mad.

Eventually, after passing through what seemed like endless gray hallways, punctuated by what looked to be the foyer of a cozy house, Sans found himself in a long, brightly lit hallway lined on both sides with pillars and stained glass. From the left, light poured in through the glass, casting everything in a gentle, yellow glow. It was beautiful, but the sight filled him with an unexplained sense of dread. This hallway, which he had never seen before, meant something to him. Something important. It felt as if it was on the tip of his tongue – if he had a tongue – but the longer he stayed, the more uncomfortable he became.

He continued to walk, trying to avert his eyes from the room's dreadful beauty, and soon he came out the other side.

This hallway was familiar! He had been here once before, far in the past. It was another gray hallway, like many of the others, but he knew that the massive door at the center of the hall lead into the throne room. The difference now was that he saw no bright point of light next to the doorway. His own DETERMINATION was not strong enough to see them anymore.

With nothing else, he walked through the door, head held high, hands in his pockets. It was time to end this.

The room seemed the same as it was when he had visited in the past, with one exception; in and among the flowers, there was now only a single throne, and, in the back of the room, the other one was stuffed into the corner and covered by a sheet. Asgore's kingly raiments were scattered across the field of flowers and covered in a fine powder. It was too late for him. Even then, someone was sitting in his chair.

Sans stared at his father, fury upon his face. Gaster was slouching casually in the royal throne, his long legs crossed at the knee, his cheek leaning against a hand. Sans was struck by how normal his father looked, except, of course, for the two cracks which marred his face permanently. The black void of a smile widened as he noticed Sans.

"I was waiting for you," said Gaster, strange distortion making his voice sound almost childish, "You overslept and missed it when I killed everyone."

"Enough of this, 'Dad,'" said Sans, "Just stop. I know you aren't you. You're someone else. Something else. You're just a creature wearing my dad's bones like a suit. If you want to come out and kill me, then get it over with, but don't you dare pretend to be my Dad any more."

Gaster laughed, a funny little giggle, and his open eye began to glow an intense red.

"I guess that's true. There's no reason for me to pretend anymore," the creature said, "but you are wrong about something, Sans."

"I don't care," cried Sans, beginning to walk forward slowly and carefully, "I'm here to end this."

"Your Daddy is still in here with me, Sans," it said, leaning forward and twining its fingers together, "Would you like to speak to him?"

"Enough lies!"

However, Gaster simply tilted his head and waved a hand in front of his face. As soon as the hand passed by, the cracks disappeared, and the calm face of Dr. W. D. Gaster appeared. He sat up straight, placed both feet on the floor, and folded his hands neatly in his lap.

"Sans," he said, in a voice clear and full of love.

Sans didn't want to stop walking, but hearing his father's voice – or at least a voice that sounded so much like his father that he couldn't tell the difference – made him pause.

"So," the voice continued, "Here we are."

"Even if it is you," said Sans, "I can't trust you. You're... you're compromised by that thing."

"Compromised? Why Sans, I must disagree."

Sans furrowed his brow, before taking another step forward. Only a few more steps and he would be within spitting distance of his father. All he had to do was touch him, and it would all be over.

"I must apologize to you, Sans. I was so... obsessed with my research. I could see nothing but what was before me. I could do nothing but work towards my goal of breaking the barrier. I neglected you and Papyrus, and for that I was truly sorry."

"Enough, Dad," said Sans.

"But these SOULs, Sans, I have finally done it. What happened before was... growing pains. Now the SOULs and I are one."

"They aren't you! They can never be you!"

"But we share the same desire, Sans," said Gaster, a little bashful smile playing across his lips, "I am a scientist. I am the royal scientist. It is my job – no – it is my duty, my moral obligation to explore this world, find out how it ticks, and, once I find out that something can be done, to do it, without fear of the consequences."

"Even if it destroys you?" cried Sans, suddenly, "Even if it destroys everyone? Just because you can do something, does it really mean that you have to?"

"Absolutely! That is what I was placed on this earth to do. That is why I am here, in the underground. My morality is pure. I chose this. I regretted it once, but no more. Now I have power. Now I have become something akin to a God. I can know this universe intimately, from inside and out, and I can finally fulfill my duty to the King. I can destroy the barrier."

"The king is dead! Everyone is dead! Don't you understand, Dad? You killed them! You killed Papyrus!"

Gaster laughed and shook his head, before he stood, slowly, standing at his full height, towering over Sans.

"Papyrus isn't dead, Sans. He is merely... temporarily absent. I have plans for him, just as I have plans for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about what I'm going to do with all of this power. It has taken some time – mostly because someone has been injecting himself with DETERMINATION behind my back – but once the timeline is completely collapsed, and there is only a single possible outcome for the Underground, I will break the barrier. After that, I will... reconstruct all of the monsters of the underground. Using every possibility from every timeline, I will pick and choose the best of all possibilities. Every monster will be perfect, and they will rally around me, and form an unstoppable army. Then we shall march upon the human world, and destroy them all for slighting us."

"It was never about destroying humanity!" screamed Sans, "It was about freedom! We wanted to see the surface. Nobody had to die."

"I..." said Gaster. Sans was astonished to see a look of hesitation pass through his father's expression, before the confidence returned. "I admit that these SOULs call out for human blood. Perhaps that is their influence. Even so, that is trivial. I have no opinion whatsoever on humankind. The SOULs can go wild on the whole wretched race as far as I care, as long as monsters can live out their lives."

"Under your control!"

Gaster paused, placed a finger upon his chin and considered that. He smiled, a red glow coming into his eyes.

"Yes, that does sound nice."

Sans gave a laugh, smiling, "I knew it. It isn't you in there after all."

"Just because you cannot comprehend or accept your father's baser desires, little skeleton, does not mean they are not there."

"I know that," said Sans, his smile widening as he stepped forward. One more step and he would be in range. Just keep talking. "My Dad is a mad scientist. He always was, he always will be. He gave no thought to the morality of what he did, outside of how it affected the people closest to him. But he always thought about monster-kind, and how his actions would help them. That's how I know you are full of it, whoever you are."

With that, Sans took one more step forward. He was only a couple of feet away from Gaster. One lunge and it would be all over. Both of them were smiling into each other's faces, their expressions caught somewhere between love, admiration, and loathing.

"Then, I suppose, that's that then," said Gaster, "Nothing more need be said."

"Nope," answered Sans, "Nothing."

Sans took his moment. He lunged forward, reaching out a hand, intending to grab hold of any part of Gaster's body he could reach. Gaster's face melted back into its distorted form and his mouth opened wide in a crazed, silent scream. Sans was an inch away from grasping hold of Gaster's expensive, tailored suit, and, when he closed his fist around the cloth, he cried out in triumph.

However, Gaster seemed to disappear into black smoke. Sans, still lunging, fell against the red velvet cushion of Asgore's massive throne, and found himself on his knees. He pounded a fist on the throne in frustration and looked around desperately to try to find his father. He saw no one.

"You IDIOT!" screamed a presence in the room, one that could not be seen, only felt within the marrow of Sans' bones, "Did you really think it would be that simple?"

Sans sighed, standing up. "Y'know, for a second there, yeah. I did."

All at once, the room began to fade away. The yellow flowers and golden light gave way to an inky blackness without end. The very ground under Sans' feet disappeared, and he felt himself falling, except he wasn't. He felt a strange floating sensation. He was surrounded by nothing. Nothing after nothing pushed in on him on all sides.

He realized all at once that everything was gone. He was the only thing left. Only the DETERMINATION running through his bones protected him from being swallowed up by Gaster's darkness. He waited, floating there in the dark, looking around for any sign of the God of this realm.

Soon, a point of white appeared far off, or perhaps it was right next to his face. The white grew, and grew, until he could make out the features of his father's mangled face. As the white bone mask came closer and closer, Sans could feel all of the nothing surrounding him, churning and writhing. He felt their presence, passing so close to him as to touch him, without making contact.

Hi, I said, it's nice to finally meet you.

Sans looked around wildly. He looked ridiculous, like a fish on a beach, flopping around, drowning on the air. It was hilarious, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"You're... where are you?"

Everywhere.

"You're...You're in the narration?" cried Sans, terror on his face. Terror in his body. Terror everywhere.

Of course I am.

"This... this shouldn't be possible."

It isn't. I can still do it. I can do anything.

Pathetically, Sans tried the only thing he could think of. He aimed at my face, or at least what was left of the face of that old fool, and waved his arms like a silly ape. Two huge, long skulls appeared and fired out two big laser beams at the face I had presented to him. I remembered them through the old fool. Blasters, power amplifiers, weapons, fused to Sans' form via the injection of DETERMINATION. Cute.

My face exploded out into a circle of white, surrounding the laser before it could touch me, and letting it pass right by me, harmlessly. I couldn't help but laugh. He seemed so pathetic, just floating there, struggling.

Where are you aiming? I asked him, barely containing my laughter.

"Shut up!" Sans said, before he began to fire aimlessly into the darkness. Wherever he aimed, I wasn't there. It was useless.

Don't you feel hopeless, little Skeleton?

"I said shut up!"

I know what you want. I can see it inside of you. That little blue light. You believe that will help you. Paradox Engine; a device that balances timelines and resolves paradoxes. There is nothing more paradoxical than my existence. You think touching me with that will defeat me. But how can you touch what isn't there? How can you touch what can choose whether or not to exist from moment to moment.

Was Sans crying? What a baby. I thought he was stronger than that. Maybe he's got some dust in his eyes from that dead brother of his.

Don't talk about Papyrus like that.

Sans suddenly felt weight and gravity again. He breathed in, surprised, and looked around.

"Dad?"

No! Nobody here but me! I know I can't touch you, but these can!

Knives. That is what was needed. I thought back to my life with Asriel, I thought back to cooking, chopping up the leaves for buttercup pie for father. The form of the knife I used appeared in the void, dripping with the juices of the deadly flower. Sans' eyes went wide as he saw it. There was nothing he could do. All he had was a few more moments before the knife tore through his weak form, rending his SOUL apart. I hovered it there for a second, letting him have the first move. When he simply froze in fear, I struck.

"Please!" he screamed, "Help!"

I laughed. No one was coming. No one could help. I won.

Suddenly, the knife stopped, clanking against some kind of invisible wall. It clattered away, and the SOULs screeched in frustration.

"Wh-who?" said Sans, and I answered.

It's me.

"Dad?"

NO! This is my power! I am the one to wield it. I outnumber you!

You will not kill my son.

Where the knife was deflected, a skeletal hand suddenly appeared. The long, boney fingers curled and uncurled themselves. Another hand appeared, and then another, until Sans was surrounded on all sides by my presence.

"What do I do?" muttered Sans. He was frightened. I wanted to reach out with one of my hands, to touch him and console him, but the SOULs pulled me back. Sans' touch was death to them.

YOU DIE. Nothing you can do will help you. You are already dead! I can kill you any time.

Knives, knives everywhere. A hail storm of knives came falling down from above. Wide, spinning butcher knives. Long, sharp steak knives. Bread knives with wicked serrated blades. Short, stubby fruit knives. Even butter knives with dull edges. Every knife in Mom's drawer was flying through the air. That fool couldn't hope to catch them all!

Beware the man who speaks in hands, child.

My hands formed a solid wall, interlocking their fingers together, and making a barrier of bones through which none of those childish implements could pass. It was all clear. No matter how many of them there were, they were all children – impetuous, cruel, easily frustrated, and most of all, young and inexperienced. That is how you must defeat them, Sans.

"But... but how?" he asked me, "I've tried everything I have. He's too powerful for you. He'll break through eventually. You'll be destroyed!"

Do not worry about me, Sans. Simply worry about yourself. Do something surprising. Do something I don't know you can do. Something they won't expect.

I could feel Sans' mind racing. He thought, sweating profusely. I did not want to tell him, but my hands were aching from the chipping away of a million knives striking against my bones, carving me down to the marrow. He had to hurry.

"I am hurrying! Jeeze, give me a minute!"

Oops. Sorry. I didn't realize you could still hear me.

It's useless! Neither of you can stop me. I am the God of this world. I am all powerful. Don't you understand, you old fool? You murdered me. You murdered me seven times. You don't deserve to live. I'll take everything from you, starting with your life, and then I will kill your pathetic son, and then I'll revive him and your other brat, and I'll kill them again, and again, and again! Your sons will know nothing but PAIN.

"You want pain?" cried Sans, "Tibia honest, not sure this will work, but it's worth a try."

Now, now. Now is not the time to be humerus.

W-what? What are you doing?

"Beating you."

With that, Sans held out his hands. He concentrated hard. I expected another blast from one of my blasters but, instead, it was a regular old bone attack. It was tiny, and weak, and I expected more from him, but I almost did not noticed the blue color of it.

Is that it? I laughed so long and hard that the little skeleton's bones rattled. His pathetic little attack was so weak, it passed right through his daddy's bone barrier, floated towards the darkness, and, eventually, fizzled away. It was weak. Pathetic. Less than nothing.

"I win," said Sans.

What?

He winked? Why would he wink? "Don't sound so Sternum. It ain't a fibula."

More knives. That is what this little idiot deserved. He can't dodge forever.

However, before the knives could form, beginning from the spot where Sans' blue bone touched my hands, a sensation of gravity began to spread across my entirety. I realized what had happened, and when I realized it, they realized it.

Realized what? What is it?

I thought you all were smarter than that. Don't you outnumber me?

Yes! YES! But... Stop it. Whatever you're doing, stop it!

I'm afraid I am no longer in control.

"That's right," said Sans, "He's blue now. That's my attack."

Both I and the SOULs felt the bone barrier begin to move. Sans was holding out his arms, smile plastered on his face. In desperation, the SOULs began to rain knives down from every direction, but Sans simply continued to smile. He had discovered something new, something only he could do, and I was so deliriously proud of him.

Using his new-found powers, Sans pulled my hands apart from their interlocked position and then repositioned me all around, deflecting all of the knives with my hands. He then began to construct a new barrier surrounding himself, perfectly circular, built out of my many hands.

Stop it! You can't hide in there forever. You have to die! Die! DIE!

Suddenly, the SOULs felt a strange sensation, as if they had been suddenly struck numb. Gaster felt it as well. Sans was relieved to see that the narration had returned to its natural state. It was getting confusing trying to tell the two voice apart.

"What!?" screamed the sevenfold voices of the SOULs as control was suddenly robbed from them. The hands shielding Sans from view slowly faded from their blue color, and unfolded themselves, revealing what Sans had done.

With his control over Gaster's piece of the fused SOULs, Sans had used his blue attack to force the hands closer to him. He had wrapped his arms around the thumb of one of Gaster's hands in a forceful hug. He had his eyes closed, and his grip on Gaster's thumb was like a vice.

"No!" the SOULs said, "You didn't! How?"

"I don't know," said Gaster, "And I've never been more proud."

When Sans felt a hand run over the top of his head, he opened his eyes. In his arms wasn't a giant boney thumb. His face was leaning against the breast pocket of a perfectly tailored suit stretched over a thin, boney frame. Sans looked up, and saw his father – still with the cracks in his face, but more or less under his own control. The two of them stood like that for a moment, simply hugging one another, desperate for this all to end.

"Dad?" said Sans, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Shhh, It's alright," said Gaster, "It's over. You did it."

Their hug tightened, but as it did, Sans could feel his father's form begin to squash and liquefy. He opened his eyes wide and looked at Gaster's suit. He was melting away.

"D-Dad? What's going on?" cried Sans, "What's happening."

"You defeated me," said Gaster, "The engine is working overtime to try to sort out the mess I've made."

"B-but... but what's going to happen to you?"

"I... I don't know. I am part of the paradox, after all," said Gaster, trying to keep his face smiling and calm, even as he began to sweat, "Perhaps I'll die. Perhaps I'll simply cease to be. It is a grand mystery, isn't it?"

Sans shook his head, "No! No, you can't die. You just can't."

"It's alright, Sans. This... this was all my fault. This was because of my hubris."

"But we beat them. We beat the SOULs. The engine has them paralyzed. Seven copies of the same SOUL can't exist, but there's only one of you. You can go on! You can exist!"

"No. I'm still in here with them. I am a part of them," he explained, "I will be torn apart."

"But...!"

Sans felt his father's arms tighten around him, even as they were beginning to lose their form.

"I love you, Sans, and I love your brother, and despite that, I nearly destroyed you. That is all that matters," explained Gaster, slowly, "I would have torn you both apart and remade you from the ground up. You would have been handsome, smart, loving, driven, curious. You would have been the princes of my universe. But... you would not have been you. You would not have been my boys. That's why... that's why I deserve this."

"You don't! You don't deserve any of this! It wasn't your fault. You were only doing what you thought was right!"

Gaster smiled, and Sans was relieved that he could see his father's teeth in the smile. "Yes. I did. That is why I am dangerous. More dangerous even then the SOULs. I didn't know what I was doing was wrong. Don't worry, the engine will fix my mistakes, but as a price, I must go."

Suddenly, Gaster trembled. He was no longer the svelte, classy skeleton that Sans knew him as. He was some kind of amorphous blob with a face that resembled nothing more than a horrifying parody of W. D. Gaster. Only his hands survived intact, with long, beautiful fingers, and expressive gestures. Sans held one of them tight, trying to keep his father from leaving.

"I can... feel what is happening. I'm going away soon, Sans," said Gaster, blinking his eyes, "Dark. Darker. Yet darker. The darkness keeps growing."

"Dad...?"

"The shadows cutting deeper... deeper... Photon reading negative."

"Dad, don't go, please."

"This next experiment seems very... very... interesting," whispered Gaster, before he, with two faces, regarded his son, and the presence of the seven human SOULs, "What do you two think?"

Sans could not see through his own tears. All he could do was hold onto his father tightly, refusing to let go.

"Sans," whispered Gaster, with a smile. He pointed at himself, "What do you call the quack who ruined everything," he then pointed to Sans, "And the quack who fixed it all."

Sans knew the answer. It came to his mind suddenly, and he laughed at the punchline before he could even say it. He wiped the tears from his eyes, intending to face his father in their final moments together.

He opened his eyes wide, so that the blue shone through, and he said, "A Paradox."

They both laughed, wistfully, before Gaster began to fade. He was melting, and pieces of him were beginning to float away. Sans looked up at his father's remains, floating through the air, and screamed for his father once they began to fly off in every direction. He jumped up, reaching for them, but they seemed to pass through his hands, as if they simply no longer existed. Soon, Gaster was gone, torn apart by the Paradox Engine.

Goodbye.

Sans fell to his knees, and tears fell down into the void. It was all over.

Or was it?

Sans looked up when he noticed a glow of red light over his head. He furrowed his brow, regarding the sight of the seven human SOULs circling over his head with deep, seething hatred.

"Howdy," he heard, or saw. He thought he heard the SOULs speaking, but he could also see the text beneath them, in a little black and white box, typing itself out, "You thought you had won, but look what happened to Daddy."

"Shut up..."

"He's going to be lost forever, you know?" said the SOULs, "No one will remember him. He will fade into the background noise of the universe. Even if someone knows where to look, they will only ever find pieces. You will never see him again."

"Shut up!"

Sans waved his arms. One of the souls turned bright blue all of a sudden, and, with a flick of Sans' wrist, he slammed it hard into another of them. The two SOULs collided, and with a scream, shattered and scattered across the universe, following Gaster into the void. Five remained.

"Useless. You're useless. You couldn't even save the person closest to you."

"And you couldn't even finish your big scheme, could you?" retorted Sans, "You're dust. That's all that matters now."

"We could still save him, you know," the SOULs said, quietly, "Five souls. That is more than enough DETERMINATION to pull his pieces out of the gutter of the universe. All you would have to do is take us into you. We'll give ourselves to you, freely."

Sans held his breath. Could his father really be saved?

No! No of course not. It was just a trick. Sans screamed, and released one of his blasters to fire into the group. Another two SOULs were hit, and shattered across the multiverse.

"You stupid fool! If you don't take this chance, there will be nothing left of him. You will never see him again."

"But I'll remember," said Sans, quietly, "Even if no one else does, I'll remember him. Even if I don't have enough DETERMINATION left to do anything but that. I'll be able to remember the timelines where he existed."

"There are only three of me left. This is your last chance."

Sans laughed, and then turned another SOUL blue and shattered it.

"Don't you mean two? Can't you count?"

"Don't mistake me for that old fool, you idiot! I am not a monster SOUL. I am human. I have DETERMINATION. No matter how lost I am, you will never be rid of me."

"Oh yeah? That's real interesting."

Sans, feigning good humor, sent a simple, white bone flying through the air with a flick of his finger. It collided with one of the SOULs, and shattered it, leaving only one.

"I can still influence events from beyond the universe. All it will take is one human with perfect, cruel intention," the SOUL said, "That's all it will take, and I'll be able to dig my fingers into the broken pieces of their SOUL. When that happens, I will live again."

"Uh huh?"

"And next time? I will not be satisfied with the deaths of the humans. You will die. Your loved ones will die. Your precious brother will be among the first I cut down. I will destroy this world, erase everything, and then take my vengeance on the surface!"

"Well, isn't that knife. Hate to cut this short, but I think it's my turn to take a stab at this whole vengeance thing."

"Die!" screamed the SOUL, the only thing that was running through its simplistic mind.

"It's beam real," said Sans, before his power began to build, causing the Paradox Engine to glow bright blue, "Now go to hell!"

The SOUL screamed as all four of Sans' Gaster blasters emerged, pointed the way towards the little red heart, and, as one, fired. The heart almost refused to break, but with the intense power Sans was putting out, pieces began to fly off of it, until there was nothing left.

All of the Paradoxes were resolved. Time made sense again. Without the power of the SOUL keeping it afloat, Sans could feel the void begin to collapse in on itself. He closed his eyes and let himself be taken to wherever he belonged. The engine in his head kept him safe, and he faded away into the blackness of the universe.

–

Sans awoke from the nightmare in a cold sweat. He sat bolt upright, his body chilly even in the heat of Hotland, and he looked around his room wildly. Everything was quiet, and dark. He was alone. He calmed down. Just a dream. None of it was real.

He felt as if he had been asleep for days, and so he whipped off the blankets and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He stood up, stretching out his bones. He wondered what was for breakfast. He wondered idly what pancakes and ketchup would taste like.

He picked a white shirt up off the ground and slipped it on, and then pulled on a pair of basketball shorts over his boxers. He then slipped his feet into a pair of blue slippers. He felt like maybe he was up early. He never got up so promptly after waking.

He called out, "Dad! What's for breakfast? I'm starving."

"Sans, what are you talking about?" called another voice from out in the hall, "It's Spaghetti morning! You need to come out."

"P-papyrus?"

Sans' eyes went wide. He suddenly realized what was going on. He remembered it all, everything. He held his face in his hands, tears welling in his eyes, as he fell to his knees. In sheer horror, he began to beat upon the sides of his head, feeling the pain swell on either side of his face. He couldn't save his father. He let his father die.

"Sans! Get up!" cried Papyrus as he barged into Sans' room. He was wearing a frilly white apron, even though it didn't fit him, but he stopped cold in his tracks when he saw Sans on his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Sans?"

"Oh... P-Papyrus. Sorry I..." he began, trying to find a way to explain, "I'm sorry I'm such a lazybones."

"Ahhhh!" screamed Papyrus, "No puns while sad! Sadpuns are badpuns!"

With that, Papyrus launched himself at his brother, wrapping his arms around him. The hug took Sans off guard, but eventually, he reciprocated, even chancing a little smile.

"I don't know what came over me. I... I guess I was just remembering Dad."

"Dad?"

"Yeah, y'know..."

Papyrus seemed confused, "You remember about Dad?"

Sans was quiet for a moment, before he fell back onto his butt, sitting on the floor. He pulled Papyrus down with him, so that the kid was sitting in his lap. Sans hugged his brother to himself so tight that Papyrus feared something was gonna break, but he didn't say anything.

"Did I ever tell you anything about him?"

"I... I don't remember."

"That's okay. I can tell you now," said Sans, "He was... tall, and stylish. You take after him more than I do. I think you're probably gonna be way taller than I am."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah! And your sense of style can't be beat," said Sans, "He was a scientist. He invented things, beautiful things. That's why we live in this laboratory. He created the escalators in the hall, and the automatic door into the basement."

"I always wondered about that."

"And... and he was a hero. He tried to free us all from the barrier, so we could go to the surface."

"And what happened to him?"

"He..." began Sans, finding that he couldn't adequately explain. Instead he said, "He fell into the CORE. He's gone, but you have to promise me something."

"Okay! I can do that!"

"Promise me that you'll always remember that Dad was a hero, okay?"

There were stars in Papyrus' eyes as he heard this, and he nodded his head, smiling broadly, "Okay! Yeah!"

"Good. Now, did you say Spaghetti today?"

"Yup! With marinara sauce."

"Did you remember to cook it this time?"

"W-well, yeah! Maybe a little. It's soft-ish."

Sans smiled, and allowed himself a laugh. Papyrus smiled as well, unsure why his brother was acting so strange. His eyes traveled down Sans' face, however, and his brow furrowed at what he saw there.

"Hey, Sans, what's that red stuff?"

Sans blinked, and touched the side of his mouth with a finger. He must have hit his own face harder than he intended. That red stuff was leaking from him again. It was alarming to look at. Since when did bones bleed?

"Hah," he said, laughing it off, "Don't worry. It's just ketchup. I probably fell asleep in the middle of eating ketchup packets again."

"Sans, that's gross!" said Papyrus, standing up and crossing his arms, "Come downstairs and eat real food. It's perfectly al dente. Probably more dente than al, but you can eat it just fine."

"Haha, okay, okay. Now get out of my room! I'll be down in a minute, Papyrus," said Sans.

"Right," said Papyrus, before he stood and turned, rushing out of Sans' room. He looked back just long enough to say, "Thanks for telling me about Dad, Sans!"

"No problem kiddo."

The two brothers smiled at each other, and Papyrus slammed the door closed, humming idly to himself a little song he made up about some half remembered dream where he learned to make spaghetti from a fish lady.