A/N: I had a terrible idea for a AU/Crossover, This is literally 2500 words of complete self-indulgence, because it started out as a joke and it just completely spiralled from there. This is the most dialogue I've ever written in one fic before, and I must say it feels strange. I'm not used to it, my problems always come from trying to make a good mix of dialogue and description outside of spoken words, and I was experimenting a bit with the layout because there was a certain feeling I was trying to get (and it's definitely a lot harder to manage on ffnet too). Formatting sucks.

There are no major spoilers from either fandom, and little to no prior knowledge is needed to read. So many ideas, so many deadlines, so little time. I'd say I should have spent my time doing something admittedly more important (like the fic I have that's due for the UT Secret Santa) but I don't regret it. I haven't binge-written for three hours until 1 am in a long time.

I apologize if they seem overly OOC, but this whole thing was just crazy to think about and write. I did my best nonetheless, and I doubt I'd ever continue it outside of some loosely connected oneshots in the far, far distant future. If anyone's interested, hit me up over here or on tumblr! The link is on my profile, and I would love to talk about it a ton.

"you... what are you doing here?"

.

.

.

.

"Forgive us for this, but for the good of our city, it must be done."

.

.

.

"Brother, look out!"

.

.

"Wha- oh no, No, NO!"

.

"PAPYRUS!"

He felt like he was being scrambled. Every part of him was pulled this way and that, crumbling to pieces before reconstructing in a way that felt distinctly familiar and yet unfamiliar. It was twisting him around, sweeping him off in a way that made the world feel like a dream. It lasted an eternity; it lasted a second. It was loud; it was silent. A place full of contradictions, a place of muted noise that echoed inside him and made his ears feel full with nothing and head ring with everything. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but nor was it pleasant and even if he could never properly describe the sensation he knew he never wanted to experience it again.

Sans opened his eyes.

It was the sight of the city skyline greeted him, shimmering with fluorescent blue, red, green and yellow lights. He stood on a rooftop, one of the few places not blocked by the skyscrapers. His shoulders sagged with shock. This definitely wasn't wherever the hell he was earlier, that was for sure, and although he didn't know what to expect, it certainly hadn't been this. He barely even recognized the buildings standing around him! The feeling of fur slipping through his fingers caught his attention and he reflexively tightened his grip, looking down and lifting whatever it was up to his face so he could get a look at it. His blue hoodie dangled in his grip and Sans blinked, glancing down at himself as he remembered that yes, he was still wearing the suit the people at his last venue had forced onto him, even if he had left his sweater in the back room to slip into later.

Man he hated formal events.

He clutched the jacket with both hands, staring hard at it as his mind struggled to process what was happening. The dull ring that had filled his ears was finally beginning to subside; a different sound was instead trying to break the haze in his head now, steadily increasing in clarity and volume as his focus cleared. Something tugged at his mind and he frowned, attention drifting in and out.

.

"...ans...plea...swer me..."

.

It felt like he was forgetting something important.

.

"please...kay...you have...be okay...ther..."

.

Very, very important.

.

"..ans...me on, brother... ere are you... hear me...?"

.

But what was it...?

.

"Answer me, please! Oh god, please, brother, come on, you have to be alright, you have to..."

Papyrus.

"SANS!"

Sans' mind kicked into overdrive as the world around him came sharply into focus, panic surging through his bones. He looked around wildly, searching for his brother's voice, the source of the shout. There, to the left - an alleyway hidden in the shadow of two buildings. He couldn't run there fast enough, one hand clinging to his jacket, a good anchor to reality. Papyrus' frantic calls filled the air and Sans wanted nothing more than to shout to him, to call back I'm here, bro, I'm right here Pap I'm fine I'm fine I'm alright, but he was already gasping for air and there was a tightness in his chest, a constriction in his throat that made him pause, and instead he skid around the corner in the black slippers that he'd refused to get rid of despite efforts of the people who'd made him perform tonight.

Papyrus! He screamed, except no sound came out of his mouth save for a rush of air. He paid it no mind as he focused on the familiar hunched figure sitting on the ground, leaning against a fence in the small alley square. Sans gave a breathless hysterical laugh, relief briefly filling him as he tripped over his own feet in his mad dash.

Then he saw it. And he froze, staring numbly at what was in front of him.

"Sans...? Sans! Oh thank goodness you're alright, I was so worried about you!" Papyrus' relieved voice greeted him, the orange glow of the strange weapon bathing Sans in light as it pulsed in tandem with his words "I-I was so scared, after what happened, I couldn't see you anywhere and I couldn't move either and it was so strange at first but then I saw it and..." His voice faltered, the light dimming and flickering with it. "Well... I suppose you can see why... right?"

Papyrus gave a weak chuckle and trailed off, watching the way Sans' jaw worked as horror crossed his face. He glanced at the still body of his brother, eyes lidded and dark, scarf askew, the rest of his outfit ruined by the strange huge sword forced through his ribcage. He hesitated before taking another few steps towards Papyrus, collapsing to his knees and cradling his brother's hand, his blue jacket sliding onto the ground.

Papyrus... I, this, you... He couldn't force the words out, his throat tightening around them when he tried and leaving him to gasp silently as he struggled to keep his breathing calm. The light gave a warm comforting pulse and Sans looked up at it, tears rolling down his face.

"Sans... I'm so sorry." Papyrus whispered, the light from the sword trembling. "I don't know what happened or how this is possible, but... somehow I'm here and not there, and I didn't mean for this to happen, but... they were attacking you, if I didn't do anything this would be you in here instead and I couldn't let that happen Sans, I couldn't-" His voice cracked and he cried, the shudder and shake of his voice expressing all he needed.

Brotherly instinct was still brotherly instinct, and even though it felt wrong to wrap his arms around the large sword's width rather than his brother's bony frame, even though it was strange to hold an immobile object rather than a living being, he kneeled there and gave a near soundless hum. He pressed his forehead against the sword and wept, Sans' tears and Papyrus' sobs mingling together.

"I'm so sorry..." "I'm so sorry..."

They sat there even when their sadness had finally run dry, feeling more emotionally drained than they had in a long time. Nothing but the soft sounds of breathing filled the alley, the orange light pulsing in time with Papyrus' breaths and Sans' arm still draped over its edge. Sans gave his brother one last squeeze in a hug before finally pulling away and giving him a tired smile.

It's alright, bro. I'm here for you, he tried to say, instead mouthing the words as his voice refused to work once more. He shut his mouth in shock, reaching for his throat. Twice when he was stressed was one thing, but a third like this... His brother shone in thanks anyway.

"Thank you, Sans." Papyrus beamed, but Sans seemed to pay him no attention. "Uh... Sans?" He glowed anxiously as Sans held his throat, mouth moving up and down but no sound coming from his mouth save for his breathing. He was staring at his knees, all but forcing the air out as he tried make any sound at all. "Sans, what in the world are you doing? What's wrong? Is there something caught in your throat? Does your stomach hurt? I might be good at puzzles, but even I am stumped. Saaans? Come on, brother, why won't you say somethi- oh."

Sans frantically nodded when he heard him cut off, looking up. He tapped his cervical vertebrae several times, opening and closing his mouth without a sound for emphasis before shrugging at him, and shaking his head.

"You've lost your voice?" Papyrus asked, examining his brother with worry. "Oh no! This is terrible, Sans! How are you supposed to work without a voice when your entire job is to talk in front of people and feed them terrible jokes?" Despite the situation, the genuine concern in his voice made Sans snort, an action that seemed to break and snowball something inside him as he started laughing, shoulders shaking even though he made no sound. Papyrus gave an incredulous huff in response to the hysterics.

"Honestly Sans, this is a very serious matter! And for that matter... how in the world am I supposed to do my job like this?! I can't even move! I mean, the near full range of vision is nice, but useless when I can't move. ABSOLUTELY USELESS!"

Sans was wheezing now, clutching his stomach and rolling onto his back in quiet booming laughter as his brother vented, never noticing when Papyrus slowly stopped talking and the frantic-seeming light faded into something much softer and relieved. He lay there for a good few minutes before he could bring his mirth under control, slowly sitting back up.

"Nyeh heh heh heh heh! That's right, brother, even I can make a comedian laugh!" He cackled as Sans caught his breath. "Wowie, maybe that's what we should do! You take me around town, and I'll do all the talking. What do you say, Sans?"

Sans shrugged, chuckling as he scrambled to his feet. "It's a pretty good idea, I guess." He signed. It had been a long time since he'd needed to, but one didn't forget so easily. He took one look at the suit he still wore before tearing it off, leaving only his pristine white t-shirt on as he pulled his sweater on over top. That was better.

"I hope you realize the rent on that suit was rather expensive."

Sans shrugged again, grinning at Papyrus' exasperated sigh before he looked at his body, eyes dimming and smile fading as he took in its condition. He bent onto one knee, placing a hand over his brother's hand. What used to be his brother. Headlines came to mind, the disappearances of celebrities, minority leaders, powerful people, all without a single trace. They were the revolutionaries, the ones not selected would whisper in the streets, when they were sure the city would not find them, the people who learned how to make a difference by being themselves, they murmured. He remembered hearing about them on the news, learning that one of the vanished was his friend, a damn good one, the period of grief he had allowed himself (months still since the first disappearance, and none of them found. Papyrus didn't need it; he still believed they were alright somewhere, somehow) before moving on, because the world wouldn't stop turning just because someone like him wanted it to.

Sans grit his teeth, a burning feeling rising up in his soul. He knew why he'd been targeted (there had been a reason why he had been branching out with his material lately), but they'd been craftier than he expected, caught off-guard when he was supposed to catch them, and now because of them, because of him, his brother-

Now Papyrus was stuck in some abomination of a weapon with nothing but his words, and he himself was stuck unable to make a sound at all. His other hand drifted up to touch his throat, as though he could tear away the unnatural obstruction that kept him from speaking. First his friends, next his voice, and now almost his brother. How much more would they take away from him, from them, from their city and home? Bitterly he wondered if they expected him to do nothing like the lazy public image he'd established. Fat chance, he thought to himself. Oh no, there was no more slacking like this; it was personal now.

"Sans?"

Papyrus' quiet voice broke him from his thoughts and Sans looked at him before giving him a bright grin, a little forced but as genuine as he could. He stood up and reached over, tugging the ragged scarf off his brother. Sans hesitated before patting the top of the sword, wrapping the scarf around his own neck. Then he moved to stand next to the weapon's hilt, his nonexistent stomach giving a lurch at the damage he could properly see for the first time. A strange blessing it was, that his brother's outfit blocked most of the damage from view. He grabbed the sword's handle.

"Sans, what are you doing?"

Sans gave him what he hoped was a comforting smile, adjusting his grip and digging his slippered feet into the hard ground as much as he could.

"We can't exactly stay here, true, but... are you sure about this?" He paused at his brother's question, hesitating a moment before giving a determined nod. He pulsed in a mimic of the action.

"Alright. I trust you, brother."

Sans took a deep and long breath in, then slowly back out. In, and out. One more breath as he braced himself, and he gave a sharp yank, pulling the sword from his brother's body. It came without a hitch, far easier than Sans had expected and his momentum forced him to step back, the end of it thunking dully against the ground.

"Oh my god I'm sorry bro are you alright?" Sans signed, pushing the handle upward so the sword half-stood on its edge. The weapon was practically as tall and wide as he was, glowing a smooth orange colour with thin red patterns running from its flat point to the strange circular decoration in the middle. Two cyan panels floated on either side, bobbing in and out. The handle was blue like the panels and attached to a grey triangular hilt, a thicker red stripe going from its point down to the center. The blade itself was mostly rectangular, the only edges being the corners, and Sans winced internally; being impaled on it certainly didn't seem like anything pleasant.

"I'm fine, Sans, don't worry!" Papyrus assured, and his brother startled for a moment at his voice before relaxing. "I didn't feel a thing! Although it's kind of weird, moving around without any actual effort from me. I feel like I can still move my arms, but nothing happens... Its strange."

Sans gave him a 'tell me about it' look as he experimentally lifted the sword up, a curious expression crossing his face when it took little effort to do so. He was pretty sure this broke a lot of physics, how in the world did it even work...?

"Wow! Have you been working out behind my back? I can't believe you're lifting this so effortlessly!" Papyrus said and Sans could just about imagine him shifting around, watching curiously. "It looks pretty heavy from here, and I'm inside it! But... I suppose finding yourself without a voice is about as jarring as waking up without a body. I can't even begin to imagine what all this must be like for you, brother!" A lightbulb went off and Sans perked up, his grin turning cheeky as he leaned the sword against his shoulder. Papyrus noticed too late as his brother lifted a hand to sign as best he could with his other occupied.

"Oh wait, no, Sans, brother, please, don't you dare-"

"I guess you could say that tonight rattled our bones pretty badly, didn't it Pap?"

Papyrus gave a loud good-natured groan as Sans laughed, the sword glowing happily when he saw the joy on his brother's face. But there was something still bugging him, he could tell. He sighed; his brother was such a worrywart sometimes.

"Don't worry about it too much, Sans. We'll be fine."

Papyrus' strange change in subject and the seriousness of his voice seemed to throw him off and Sans looked at him, startled. The light flickered.

"I'm serious, brother, I can see the broody look on your face." Sans could hear the frown in his voice and he knew if a sword could emote, then Papyrus would be the most emotive sword possible. "That's your deep thinking face, and I know you're worried about something that even I am not 100% sure of. You have been for a while now. But I know that even though things are strange, we'll be fine somehow, as long as we stick together. Got it?"

Sans stood in shock for a moment before he realized Papyrus wanted a response. He grinned, giving the sword an affectionate bonk with his head and signing "got it" with his free hand. Papyrus beamed in response, practically bathing the alleyway in light.