Author Note: It's been a while...

In light of my enslavement by Undertale and obsession with fanart/comics (especially Underfell)... well... this happened. There ya go, sport.

This is based off of a comic by ParodyPunk on deviantart and dedicated to her for her great content. Not sure what belongs to who since only the little at the end comes directly from her comic, but it's worth saying that she owns part of this story. Anyway, it's not much, but it's something.

Note: Older Female Frisk and Underfell

Check out the comic. It's way better. I'll put a link in my profile.

"Is it night time?" If there even was such a thing as "night" in the Underground, Frisk thought while staring down the length of the long room with thick pillars on either side of her. It was more like a massive hall, actually, with tall windows on either side of her bearing the same mark that she'd seen in various other places in the Underground that related to some legend. Yet, the windows were tinted just enough to prevent her from gazing out of them while moonlight spilled in, shining on the black and red checkered tiles, causing the entire room to appear not only sinister but teeming with suspicious shadows.

She held the flower pot containing her friend closer to her chest for comfort as she walked forward slowly, her steps echoing in the distance which she couldn't see due to the veil of darkness.

"I'm not sure…" Flowey replied, glancing around, just as wary as his companion. "But just keep going. We're almost there," he said encouragingly. They'd just finished fighting Mettaton who'd deemed Frisk too boring to keep his audience entertained since there had been no blood shed.

The ratings had gone down after about half an hour since all Frisk did was dodge. There was not enough "drama" and "suspense." Even her "amusingly naïve pacifistic speeches" had grown tedious it seemed. The battle had ended with Mettaton taunting. "Some were made for the world of show biz and some weren't. Unfortunately for you, darling, you just don't make the cut."

Frisk had smiled nonetheless as he shook his head with pity at her.

But Flowey was right. They were nearly at the castle and once they fought Asgore they could leave. She wasn't entirely sure how, but lacking a plan had never stopped her in the past and had actually worked out rather well. And she'd never needed to resort to fighting either.

Papyrus had been one of the greatest obstacles she'd overcome. At first, he'd set up a multitude of traps and obstacles meant to ensnare her, idly watching by as she stumbled to get through them. But every time she did, he seemed to grow more frustrated with her, vowing that the next one would be her undoing. If only he knew the number of times it really took her he might not have been so furious when he finally decided he needed to take her on with his own hands.

Despite the enthusiasm he claimed to have in his mission to take her soul, she'd felt from the very beginning that he was holding back on purpose. Why else would he have led her to obstacles and tried to trick her again and again instead of fighting her immediately?

After a harrowing back and forth of meeting his attacks by dodging, he'd seemed to be at his limit and asked with a simmering anger, "Why do you not fight back, human? If I kill you, your soul will be taken and we'll be free from the Underground. Do you not understand that?" Every hit he'd landed on her had actually seemed to make him more infuriated.

"I do. But I can't attack you. Not when I know that deep down you don't want to hurt me," Frisk had said with confidence as her wounded arm dangled, giving him a pleading look as her labored breaths became visible in the cold air of Snowdin. "You'll either have to kill me… or let me go. And then maybe… we could be friends?" She'd looked up at the tall skeleton with a worn but hopeful smile, holding a concerned Flowey with her good arm.

"Friends…?" Papyrus had said quietly as his tense stance eased just the slightest. "For what purpose would you want to be friends, human?" The rim of his eye socket had raised with questioning suspicion. "True, I am admired far and wide by all, but royal guardsmen do not need friends, as I am told by royal guardsmen not-friend-at-all-friend-like-acquaintance. And while I am not yet a royal guardsmen, I will follow the prerequisites required of me since I am soon to be one."

Frisk's smile had faltered a bit as she thought that over. "Uh, yeah, but, um… don't guardsmen… protect people?" She'd known she was going out on a limb then, but at least he wasn't attacking and she had time to rest.

Papyrus had been quiet at first, his scowl deepening pensively. "That is true. They protect the pitifully weak, even those unable to defend themselves unlike those such as myself."

"Well… I'm pretty weak," Frisk had pointed out. "I only have 20 HP and I actually can't defend myself since I only dodge all the time," Frisk had said slowly with an urging tone. "I really don't have anyone who will or is capable of protecting me, so… I just thought, if I had a friend, they could protect me just like a royal guardsmen. I mean, it's the same thing." Wow, she could feel his interest in her argument waning as he stared at her, frowning stoically.

However, Flowey, easily catching on, had quickly added, "Yeah, I mean, it'd take someone really cool and amazing to decide to protect one human from the whole Underground. They'd have to be really strong to even try; at least as strong as a royal guardsmen. It's easy to fight someone weak, but it'd be a huge responsibility to protect them."

Papyrus had remained stone faced and still. As the minutes had ticked by, Frisk and Flowey had assumed the worst and pondered how else they might convince the skele-

"HUMAN!" Both flower and human had jumped and Frisk had snapped her head up at the skeleton.

"W-What?" She had tensed, ready for his next attack.

"A thought struck me. You have no one but a tiny, yellow flower to protect you. The entire underground wants your soul. It would take an incredibly powerful, cool person to ensure your safety. As no one else can, I, the Great Papyrus, will protect you, and by extension, become your friend," he had spoken with a grimly accepting expression.

Papyrus had spared her.

If she had been able to befriend him and not resort to violence, Frisk felt as if she could do anything. It filled her with determination.

A chill ran down her spine then as her mind was yanked back to the present by a shadowy figure up ahead. It stood in the darkness, just before the line where light met darkness let in through a window, where it couldn't be clearly defined beyond the outline of its shape.

Unsure of what she was seeing at first, Frisk's pace now slowed as she grew closer until the girl stopped dead center in moonlight of one of the windows so she was at least cast in the luminous light. Spotting two small, beady white eyes staring at her, she clutched Flowey firmly. A moment later shark-like teeth appeared below the eyes, glinting despite the dark, one of the teeth golden.

"I've got a bone to pick with you," Sans spoke, his seemingly permanent grin menacing.

Swallowing down her fear, Frisk replied, "I don't want to fight, Sans."

"Really? That's a new one," he retorted with false surprise, tsking at her. "To be honest, I didn't expect you to make it this far, kid. At least not with that attitude. But look at you." His roaming gaze made her feel like he was witnessing some amusing anomaly. "You haven't gained any LV or EXP." He shook his head then, as if pitying her. "Just makes it easier to kill you though. And unlike Papyrus, that's no skin off my bones," he told her with a carefree shrug.

"Frisk, he won't listen. We should run. We could maybe find another way," Flowey pleaded, knowing this wouldn't be like their time with Papyrus. He'd held back at least. Sans didn't look like he could wait until the fight started.

Plus, there was something about Sans since the beginning that Flowey had noticed but couldn't put his vine on. After they'd escaped Toriel, who'd lashed at Frisk in anger when she decided she wanted to try and leave, Sans had appeared mysteriously. Literally and figuratively.

Frisk hadn't even known he'd been there until he'd been speaking directly behind her, but he'd also claimed that he didn't care about capturing a human (too much work) even though it was his job to do so. The lack of enthusiasm when Frisk's would be the last soul needed to break the barrier had been oddly unsettling.

It had been relieving to Frisk to know there was someone who wouldn't attack her on sight, but something about the way the big-boned skeleton had watched and interacted with them, like he had just been waiting for something grand to happen, had set off alarms in the plant.

"No, Flowey." Frisk now held the flower pot her friend was in to her chest protectively. "I'll have to face him one way or another. I have to do this and we both know it," she told the flower firmly before breaking into a soft, reassuring smile. "I can do it. I know I can." She had determination and had gotten this far after all.

A white streak flew forth then, nicking Frisk's right cheek when she barely managed to avoid the projectile swiftly approaching from the corner of her eye. The projectile, a bone with one end sharpened to a point, was then embedded into the wall far behind her, stabbing it audibly in the great hall.

Seemingly annoyed that his presence had been ignored, Sans' hand then dropped down and slipped back into his pocket as he spoke. "Not that I don't like interrupting your flow-wow , and trust me, I'd love to see you try to run," he said gruffly, smiling in satisfaction when he saw that Frisk's HP had taken some damage. "But we've got all day to fight and I wanna get started." Sans grinned sadistically with jagged sharp teeth and his left hand emerged from his pocket, his skeletal hand radiating with a gleaming blaze. "So why don't we have ourselves a good time?" His left eye glowed, the entire socket flaming just like a crimson inferno in the dark. "Because I know I'm about to have a GREAT TIME!"

Frisk gasped and then all she saw was red.

…

"Are you okay, Frisk!?" Flowey shouted in worry after the last attack. It had left her heavily wounded, but she still acted like she could take that and much more even though she had only five HP left.

Leaning against a pillar for support, her hair was disheveled and her clothes were ruffled and worn in several places from constantly running and moving to avoid Sans' attacks. Sweat trickled down the side of her face as she wiped a bit of blood from her lip that had split open. Even Flowey hadn't been able to fully avoid the brunt of Sans' relentless blasts, his pedals frayed and worn away at the edges, a tear or two sustained as well.

Sans was brutal. One attack came after the next in rapid succession with no time for reprieve except when Frisk was trying to talk, joke or spare her way out of the battle. He would slam her into walls or pillars, blast her with magic or throw bones at her relentlessly in every direction in every way. She could barely survive his attacks, having long since eaten through her inventory, let alone predict his next pattern of attack. He'd scoff at her attempts to reason with him and ignore her when she pleaded for mercy to end the battle and was only rewarded with another punishing attack.

"Go ahead and spare me. I'll still kill you," Sans said expectantly with his usual air of ease, seeming to relish her pitiful state since she wouldn't fight him and couldn't keep dodging.

Knowing she couldn't take another attack without dying, she searched through all her possible acts quickly and decided, thinking grimly. 'The only thing I haven't tried… please, God, let this be it.'

Sans approached, pointed bone picks at the ready and a skull head blaster at his left, with his hand poised to unleash her doom, his other nonchalantly tucked into his hoodie. "Die," he sentenced her, his callous smirk in place.

Raising her head, Frisk pursed her lips firmly, resolve set in her eyes as she stared ahead at him, her fists clenched tightly. "Flowey, close your eyes," she gently told her friend. This was her last move; probably the only thing that could get to Sans when all she'd done before had failed.

Frisk needed to flirt for her life.