WARNING! The following paragraphs up until the Chapter Title contain descriptions of gore. Please stray if it is sensitive to you.

...

Bone.

Bone.

Beam.

Bone.

Crack.

Beam.

Bone, bone, beam.

Cracks.

BONE.

BEAM.

...

CRACKED.

...

[File Loaded]

The corridor basked in golden lights felt cold to the skeleton within. The bony creature held one flickering eye, as he took in the unyielding silence. Finally, he breathed. The symbol of death—the skeleton, Sans dropped his arm, his iris losing its blue spark. Sans clenched his hand, relaxed his bones, and he smiled. He genuinely smiled. He did it. Agonizing fear and hopelessness had never been so worth it. Judging by the human's initial expression, they've killed him before. Sans felt disgusted, right up to his soul. He was right. This human had been killing for the sake of entertainment. The skeleton had never been so angry before. He promised himself he'd wipe off their smile, and he had done it.

But his own smile would vanish, as he watched, gulped, and saw—

Blood. Blood was the first thing he saw. Rogue bones intertwined with the mangling body parts, limp and lifeless. A dismembered arm farther away, was dripping more of the red liquid. The human's mouth hung in shock and desperation, their body trapped in a quadrilateral cage of bones. His bones. In a moment, Sans' expression shifted from joy to horror.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and tumbled around. His eyes couldn't shift away, his gaze locked on the sight. A sight he thought he'd relish in, laugh at. He stepped backwards and tripped on a bloodied bone, landing on the floor with little grace. Heavy breathing, sharp intakes. In, out. Sans looked away, choosing to instead shamefully stare at the floor. His legs went numb, and he realized his clothes were covered in human juices. Sans looked down even further, refusing to look, to acknowledge. In that moment, the artificial lights reflected something across the shining floor.

It was a face. His face. A face he didn't know he could make after all this. After all the adrenaline, the fear, the... Justice? Sans shook his head. 'DENY IT.'

DENY IT.

DENY IT

DENY I T .

D E N Y IT

Words and insults circled around him. Shushing him, cursing him. Suddenly, he was back to being a child. Standing, in the middle of the street, as Monsters walked by, going about their everyday lives. He held someone's hand. "Pa... Papyrus?" he muttered. In hazy recollection, the small skeleton grinned and turned his back to see... To SEE—"PAPYRUS...!" Gasping, Sans snapped out of his trance and found himself staring at golden tiles. His breaths stopped short, and only silence and the occasional drip of blood reigned over the room.

Nonetheless, Sans felt a jolt of pain in his chest. He could feel it. Ghost emotions, empathetic imagination be damned. Whose? Sans' attention shifted towards the human—or rather, what remained of them. The child's face was terribly scarred and their torso was impaled by a sharp bone. Wounds littered their body and burn marks were scattered around, residue from the use of gasterblasters. "..." The skeleton felt another jolt of pain in his soul. Theirs. Sans let out a weak laugh, i'm a murderer, aren't i? Before the skeleton could continue feeling pity, bad, bad memories flooded his mind: the apathetic expression, the dusty grip, the creepy smile they'd get out of nowhere. heh. but in the end, i'm no better than them. He focused on the floor once more, and observed silently.

The reflection, the face... It was crying. Moisture on its cheeks. Its eyes were dark, blue liquid oozing out. The face's grin shook ever slightly. Blood stained the collar of the jacket. Another tear landed on the tile. Sans inhaled deeply, grimacing at the suffocating feeling of air. He breathed, in and out... He... Collected his thoughts... Mocking him. This face was mocking him. it isn't supposed to be like this! His breathing went haggard, disproportionate intakes and outtakes, coming and going. Sans slammed his fist on the marble floor, frustrated.

Wincing from the pain on his hand, he shifted backwards. Growling, his inner thoughts spiralled. argh! it isn't supposed to be like this! i'm supposed to be happy! The skeleton steeled his expression, and turned his head to look at the body once more. All of his thoughts stopped, and his eyes widened.

The sight was even worse. The corpse's GAZE pierced through him with burning fury? Pain? Terror? He didn't know anymore. All he knew, all he saw, was a reminder. A bloody reminder. Reminding him of his continuing line of failures. The rotten smell caught up on his breath and he gagged. He clenched his fists and slammed again and again on the marble floor. It didn't break. He hit it, over and over. It felt like minutes before the tile finally shattered, dispersing in a golden light, revealing the rough dirt beneath. Sans felt no justification, nor satisfaction in this. Those minutes. That hardship. All it reminded him, was that he was weak, 'and forever will be,' whispered a harsh thought.

why am i... feeling... sad? Involuntarily, Sans felt his mind latch on at a faded memory. A husk of what was supposed to be. It was just a memory...

A memory of two buddies eating fries and drinking ketchup at Grillby's.

Sans choked a sob, before kneeling in front of the human, and cried with his head touching the floor. ha... ha...

h-happy...

h...

...

And all sounds ceased.

Chapter IV: Erased

The nostalgic feeling of home (and butterscotch-pie,) was a welcome feeling to a certain skeleton. Sans had followed Toriel into her humble abode, with the latter rushing to the kitchen to take care of a certain something burning. Now that Sans remembered everything, he knew that the matter at hand was definitely pie. He recalled certain timelines where the kid didn't reset immediately, instead staying a while. Those times, he felt wary, but he was happy. He got a tricycle and drove it alongside Papyrus' red car. He joined a comedy club and lived together with the greatest Monster family. He was actually happy for once.

Sans' forced smile twitched, oh, but those were ALWAYS the worst. Every timeline, every memory, everything. It all ended. He delved within his mind to find any continuation, of any timeline. None. Sans' felt sweat on his forehead, and the same will happen in this timeline if i don't do anything.

gone. erased. nothing more, nothing less.

Sans realized that he'd been standing motionless near the staircase and caught up with Toriel. He continued forth and came upon what he assumed to be the living room. The room sported a majestic fireplace, illuminating the dark side of the huge armchair. A bookshelf was placed to the right of the blazing charcoal, and a brief search informed Sans that most were about snails. He noticed the dining table a bit farther surrounded by three chairs, although one was noticeably smaller. Sans observed his surroundings, and heard humming coming from the room after this, presumably the kitchen. A motherly tune filled the home, and Sans smiled.

The skeleton decided to make himself at home, and manually grabbed a random book from the shelf. He almost reflexively lit his eye to use gravity manipulation on the book, but he thankfully managed to restrain himself. Using his powers was still forbidden, as he could still feel a wince of emotional distress creeping behind him. Terrorizing him. Sure, it rarely happened any more, and sure he's pretty confident he could handle it now, but the skeleton still wanted to actually destroy that inch of sorrow, that threatened to damage his conscience.

Gripping the dusty book, he made his way to one of the three chairs tucked away with the dining table. He sat with a loud 'thump' to make his arrival obvious and plopped the heavy book on the dining table. Toriel's humming stopped for a moment, but continued. Sans turned his attention on the book. Rubbing away the dust, he scanned the cover for a title and read aloud, "hmm, 'The History of Monsters'." Well, Sans had already read this story a billion times from the 'Libraby,' so he wasn't sure whether or not to read the same copy or... "huh. 'Written in the perspective of the Ruined."

Well. That was certainly new.

He could make an educated guess to what 'the Ruined' referred to. He could faintly remember seeing minor Froggits reunite with the final Froggits near Snowdin Town. He'd decided to take a shortcut back to his place after Papyrus' sudden exclamation to become the monster's mascot. He remembered thanking Grillby for his food, remembered clutching a note, and remembered going to the back of his house, and—

Shaking his head, Sans dismissed those distracting thoughts and tried to open the book. Notice, 'tried.' Sans' eyes showed surprise for a moment, before gripping the cover even harder. After a few seconds, the closed book opened to rusty fonts, hasty drawings and old, but not ripped, paper. The skeleton's hands felt a tad bit tired, but he showed no sign of exhaustion and casually placed his right hand back into his jacket's pocket. this would serve as a nice distraction.

... For a while, only gentle humming and the sound of rustling papers would be heard. The smell of butterscotch-pie would dominate the rooms, and the tension within Sans' head would give away for relaxation. However, he still felt wary, despite all this. After all...

There was still a flower he needed to visit.

...

The vines were lodged in place. Unmoving. Footprints were scattered across the landscape, leaving behind phantom visions of a tall skeleton pacing on the ground, walking from room to room, looking for anyone to help with his predicament. Of course, said skeleton didn't mention anything explicit regarding the situation. The footprints led to the dense forest, icy rinks and snowy hills, but nothing could cut the vines.

The figure clad in his battle body, stood still, and walked away. The phantom memory ended, and left on the ground was a single note.

Elsewhere, the Great Papyrus jogs on, skidding across icy plains and trekking through the snowy landscape. He would stop and give a forced expression at the monsters he'd encounter, thanking them for their efforts in looking for something, anything, to force open the doors. Papyrus sported a resigned smile, and went on his way through the chilly cavern. Still, the skeleton noticed that as he walked through the Snowdin region one more time, more 'memories' began to resurface in his mind.

He was literally walking down memory lane.

Papyrus left a note by his brothers' station, on the ground, about how he had stopped by and that he should work on his puzzles more. He also contemplated disposing his brother's condiments, but that seemed a tad bit too mean. "AND THE GREAT PAPYRUS ASPIRES TO BE NOT-MEAN!" He chirped, to no one in particular. Before long, Papyrus was almost back to Snowdin Town. He passed by his plate of spaghetti, lesser dog's station, and was now facing the compact woodlands that would lead him to the one belonging to Greater Dog's. Papyrus continued onwards, but the sound of metal against ice coming from the forest made him stop.

Papyrus stood still, waiting for the incoming monster to finish sliding, so he could have his turn. The skeleton also waited eagerly to greet what seemed to be one of the canine group, considering how they were the only ones bothering to wear armour in case of a human invasion, hence the metal. Papyrus winced at his choice of words, N-NO! THE HUMAN HAS ALWAYS BEEN NICE, MERCIFUL, AND... The image of Frisk crushing his skull using dusty gloves silenced Papyrus' thoughts. Gulping, the Great, but slightly anxious Papyrus stood still, and stared at the rocks, with little interest.

Papyrus waited for a while, only hearing the occasional clattering of metal and ice shards. The skeleton's patience was extraordinary, a giant compared to Sans', but still, the time taken by this particular monster was ridiculous! Papyrus wasn't one to complain, however, and all he thought about was how he was going to share a few tips to this clumsy monster.

The silence was broken by intense shuffling and grumbling. Papyrus perked up at the sound of clamor and crunching, probably the boots sinking deep into the snow. "HOWDY!" the skeleton greeted. But the sight wasn't one of fur, no. Even with the familiar shape of the armour, Papyrus could have confused the monster with Greater Dog, just with their helmet on... But the scales and red ponytail on her head, coupled with the blue sparks threatening to spawn next to the figure, were dead giveaways.

Papyrus knew why she was here, or rather, could guess why she was here. With his newfound memories, Papyrus knew that this was the only timeframe, in which Undyne came to wander in Snowdin. Even then, Undyne had never travelled this far, had never shown herself to the locals, and only went as close to Waterfall as Papyrus and his brother's house. With this knowledge and the awareness that other people could be affected as shown with Sans, then Papyrus knew what she was doing here.

"UNDYNE." The skeleton finally spoke.

And all sounds ceased.

A/N: WOWIE! Wow, is this how writer's block feels? It's TERRIBLE :D (I HAVE written some stories with throw-away accounts, but most of them I had lost interest in or simply discarded. This is the first one I actually want to see through in the end!)

Thanks for the review Hopefullll, nice subtle message. :) Also, I wasn't going to put in the Papyrus and Undyne encounter yet, but I ended up putting it in to show a certain reviewer that Papyrus is perfectly fine, albeit a little bit sad.

Anyhow, people, please do criticize me! I like learning from other's advice, since I see criticism as a sort of learning experience. Please do remain civil, though. I know I'm not the best, but it's not an excuse to fling curses at me. (Although thankfully, it hasn't happened yet. :O)

Also, the chapters will become shorter, because of school. Apologies in advance. :(

But that's all for today, I suppose! Good day!