"Let's just get to the point."

The worn sensation of static charged the atmosphere, in contrast to the appearance of a peaceful, golden-lit hall. There existed that same sense of misplacement. Irrationally so, without solid recollection, he knew. Even though there was no such shadow of a memory that arose as they danced through this sick repeating game. It was impossible to tell by intuition alone. And timelines, no matter how erratic the pattern, he could only trace. They never overlapped, or gave any sort of hint to an alternate timeline's version of him as to what might have been. This kind of information, however, could barely even be called a theory. He could only deduce from personal observation.

Still, he knew. The kid knew.

She stepped past his attacks with practiced ease. Even before he pulled out his opening move, the Gaster Blasters he'd never shown to anyone who still existed, she shifted preemptively, in anticipation.

There was no way she hadn't done this before. If not, she was one hell of an agile brat. But then again, he couldn't prove it for himself, could he?

"Hey. Kid."

His words barely left him as a knife cut the air in which he stood half a moment ago.

"Kid."

Another half-hearted slash. She was doing it on purpose. She didn't swing with an intent to hit him. She knew her blade would only meet open air. No matter how much he deduced, or how thoroughly he turned over each detail in his mind, it was impossible to figure out the reason behind everything. If her attack would never land, why would she keep at it? He ignored this thought, knowing he probably wouldn't ever figure it out. At least not in this timeline.

After one last defensive teleport, finally, she paused, if only for a moment of rest. Well, it wasn't really his thing to keep at anything for so long. Her eyes focused on him, conveying the frustration of what could have been ten, fifteen, twenty LOADs. Not that he cared. After all, if she took all that effort to kill every single monster in the Underground... Really. What was one more?

Besides, dodging, purely out of physical exertion, must be exhausting. He could imagine. Though it wasn't like he could sympathize.

"So. Uh..." He brought up his left hand to the rub the back of his head. "You really like swinging that thing around, don't you?"

No answer.

"Just lay down your weapon. And you know..." He closed his right eye. "Well, my job will be a lot easier."

No answer.

"You know, it feels like you've got something else going for you. Like somewhere inside you, there's a different person. A great one actually."

The crease between the kid's eyes let up as she began to catch her breath again.

"Like maybe... in a different time, we were... I dunno." He closed both eyes. "Good with each other."

The kid's tense grip on the knife eased.

"Maybe even... friends?"

No answer.

Sans slid his left hand back into his pocket and opened both eyes again.

"Come on." He addressed her directly. "Kid. I know there's something in you better than this."

No answer.

Then the most unexpected thing happened. Like tightly woven cloth unraveling before his eyes, the change in the kid's expression suddenly morphed into that of an entirely different person. Those wide, intense eyes eased into a softer squint, and her mouth closed. Only to bite back what took him much longer than a moment to register.

The kid... was crying.

Not loudly nor anything like the sobs one would expect from a child. Simply silent, plaintive tears.

The hand that held her weapon trembled, and her legs were unstable, as if she struggled to hold herself in balance. When she opened her mouth, he expected something akin to an apology. And it was like she'd lost her ability to speak.

"Sans..."

Her voice was quiet, entirely different from the one he'd been hearing until then.

"I didn't... mean... to."

The words left off on an incomplete emotion, but her eyes met his with a genuineness that almost reached his own soul.

But it didn't.

The harsh ring as the knife hit the floor cut into his memories with vicious clarity. Just as she did to his brother. To the nameless lady behind those huge, unopening doors. To not only every monster that stood in her way, but to those she sought out. What apology could mean so much as to justify that? And as if the kid read his mind, she dropped her gaze, like she herself acknowledged that she couldn't expect to deserve anything from him.

Though he was shocked into stillness, he knew no expression he could make would give it away.

He closed his right eye.

"You're sparing me? Finally."

She looked up.

"Hey kid. Buddy. Pal." He assured. "I know it must've been hard to do what you just did. To go back on everything you've done. I want you to know. I don't take it for granted."

He pulled both hands out of his pockets and shrugged his shoulders up in an open gesture.

"C'mere, pal."

The kid's body was no longer shaking, no longer off-balance. Those painfully remorseful eyes relaxed into an expression of genuine happiness, and she was laughing in relief. The kid ran forward into his arms. And for a moment, she breathed in the forgiveness of an old friend's embrace.

In the next moment, her small body was cleaved straight through, held several feet into the air. If there had been room for anything besides bone in her body, her nerves would have been screaming beyond the first half-second of agony. A choked, incomprehensible cry left her as the magic appeared to retreat back into the ground, dropping her down with it.

Sans felt the temperature of the tile floor seeping through his slippers as he stepped forward. Snowdin's cold was incomparable to what he felt now.

"Huh."

What a mess. But it was satisfying to see the body of a murderer mutilated so thoroughly.

Well, that was what he would have felt if he were sadistic scum. He almost felt bad for the kid. She really meant it, didn't she? Then again, if he chose to stand by, think, and do nothing, like always, this kind of situation wouldn't have gone so far in first place, would it?

He stopped just short of the pooling blood and stood above the kid's body, knowing those eyes would last register the shadow his body cast over it.

With cold indifference, he gazed down at her.

"If we're really friends... you won't come back."