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The silence.
It was always Sans’ least favourite part about all this.
Not watching dozens of innocent monsters that were just minding their own business get dusted in all the different gruesome ways, each falling victim to the kid’s merciless onslaught motivated by nothing but curiosity.
Not watching all his friends, who tried their hardest to stop the kid, to fight in vain as they get beaten to a pulp by whatever weapon the human has found its hands on. Even on the off chance that they do succeed, the kid will just go back and do it again. And again. Until whatever stands in front of it is nothing but a pile of dust.
Not even watching his brother literally welcomes the kid with open arms, giving them a chance to change for the better only to have his head get punched off, rolling on the white ground that’s now the combination of snow and the remains of monsters that same murderer has taken away, as he talks about still believing them, only for it to be followed by the sickening crunch of his skull breaking and turning into powder that is the same shade as its surroundings.
No, it was the silence that follows after everything has been said and done. A deafening white noise that entered through his skull, bouncing off of every corner of his mind, refusing to leave the skeleton alone no matter how unwelcomed it may be.
The silence reached every corner of the cavern, expanding into every part of the world around it, seemingly purging any noise who dared to challenge its authority over the now empty Underground.
Sans found himself at the edge of Snowdin Town, where his brother and the human had “fought”. Surrounded by only the spruce trees covered in snow (or is it dust? It doesn’t matter), and the flow of quiet waters that seems to flow endlessly, seemingly trying to get away from the reality of everything that happened.
Sans clutched his ‘wound’ for a second longer, then put his hands in his hoodie’s pocket after realizing the human was no longer there. He isn’t in that cursed Judgement hall, whose golden wall had been painted with blood, broken pillars brought on by the countless battles that had taken place and bones sticking out of the cracks of the golden tile floor. Images of which still vividly repeating over and over in his nearly unhinged mind.
How many times had he killed the kid? How many times had the kid come back? How many times was he forced to watch his loved ones be taken away from him? Sans have no idea. He had lost count a long time ago.
Sans slowly walked into town. Lights shining from the windows of the many empty houses, still attempting to masquerade as the joyful little town that was once filled with life. The Gyftmas tree in the centre of town still shining brightly. Vibrant colours emitting from the christmas lights that was wrapped around it by the residents long ago, ignorant of the world around it. The gifts under the tree now served no purpose other than a painful reminder of the once cheerful state of the small town. Name tags bearing names of monsters long dead, never being able to receive the gift that was supposed to cheer them up from the nearly broken hope the Underground already carried.
Sans walked into the bar he so frequently visits. Tables and stools overturned, laying uselessly on the fireproof wooden floor, abandoned by whoever was in here last. Cold food and half empty drinks laid on the bar counter and booths, clear signs of attendants leaving quickly. There were poker cards strewn about on the floor. Once belonging on the large table that the canines played poker on, now laying scattered on the floor of the once lively bar.
Memories of cheerful greetings and happy faces of bar attendants pushing away his other thoughts for a slight moment. The cheerful crowd of monsters always greeted him with such glee, joy can be read from their faces the moment Sans stepped into his favourite establishment. He felt dread every time he saw them so happy. Why can’t he feel the same way?
It wasn’t like Sans would blame them for feeling that way. For all they know, Sans was even more cheerful than they were. Thanks to the grin permanently stuck to his skull, and it isn’t like him to tell anyone about just how little hope for the future he has, that he knows for a fact that anything he did was futile. How can it not be when everything just resets, erasing any progress they made.
The burden of have a good memory is remembering everything that transpired. Whether it’s the good times, or the bad. Sans was always forced to carry the weight of knowing an outcome before the cogs of the universe had even turned to that moment.
Sans remembered all the good times they had. Watching the human goof off with his brother. Listen to their conversations with other monsters that always seems to brighten up whoever it is they’re fighting’s day. See the smile on the kid’s face whenever they’re making a friend, hearing one of his bad puns or meeting something new.
Sans also remembered all the bad times. Watching the human leaving the giant purple door in the forest, only to see its hands and sweater be covered in dusty white powder. A distant look in its brown eyes, devoid of any kind of compassion or even emotion. Listening to them taunt its preys before it merciless puts them down like a sick animal. See the sadistic smile on the kid’s face every time a monster reaches an arm’s length away from it.
Sans could never understood how it started. Why the human suddenly had a change of heart. One moment they were talking like old friends. Next he was watching it kill Snowdrake like it never talked to him.
Sans walked over to the bar stool like he always did, running his hand along its length. It might as well have his name labelled on it. No one else ever did sit on this particular stool other than him, maybe he should ask Grillby about making it his designated seat in the bar in the next timeline.
These kinds of distracting thoughts were very much welcomed by Sans. They pull him away from the cruel reality that everyone he has ever talked to is gone. Perhaps not Asgore, but it won’t be long now.
It was almost cruel for them to always be the last survivors. He never asked the King how he felt about any of this, he didn’t need to know. But it is almost certain that the guy feels more depressed than he ever did. Knowing that after killing 6 human kids, suffering all that guilt, bearing all the consequences for those decisions in the hopes there being a brighter future. Only for all that hope to be dashed as a singular child kills almost everyone in the underground.
Sans goes behind the counter where the fire elemental always stands, either grabbing someone a drink or cleaning a cup for so long you can see your reflection on its glass surface, and throws the broken ketchup bottle into the rubbish bin, before grabbing a new one and returning to his seat in front of the counter.
“i’m sure grillbz won’t mind.” He mumbles quietly, as if he was committing a crime. Well, he was, but it wasn’t like there would be someone to stop him or reprimand him. It’s all going to be reset anyways .
He gets on top of the seat his tailbones are so accustomed to, and place the ketchup bottle on the counter in front of him. He places both arms on the same counter, with one hand supporting the weight of his skull, as he starts to once again think about everything. Might as well kill some time before he has to fall back to his routine.
It was almost impressive to Sans how the monsters were able to keep so much hope in their souls, despite how bleak the future for monster kind looked. Everyone always looked so cheerful and happy, no matter how hopeless the dream of leaving the Underground really is.
But Sans knows. Looks can be deceitful. Hell, he was probably the prime example of that. The permanent grin on his face radiates an aura of happiness, but behind it are thousands of painful memories plaguing his every living moment. Each screaming for his attention no matter how much he tries to forget.
His lazy attitude and carefree demeanour make him look relax and always at peace, little does anyone knows that behind the slacked shoulders and the hands in pockets are horrifying nightmares and visions that can drive anyone else mad, making them question the very concept of reality.
Sans want to tell others about his problems. To break down and just scream it for anyone willing to listen, letting all his little insecurities out to the world. But he knows it wouldn’t change anything, it’s just going to be reset, and he sure as hell don’t want to tell people all that over and over again.
Sans takes a sip of the ketchup, letting the red liquid pour down his non-existent digestive system. Drowning away his thoughts for a brief moment. Even he himself wasn’t entirely sure how his skeletal body works. There were only ever a few skeleton monsters that existed, and none of them ever bothered to fully analyse how their own bodies work. Not that he’s complaining, as long as he can taste his favourite drink, he didn't really care.
It was almost something impossible to imagine. Sans the skeleton caring about anything other than his brother and making bad puns. But once upon a non-existent time, a few hundred lifetimes ago. Sans was another hardworking monster, with dreams of breaking the barrier and seeing the glory of the surface. Hope in his pinprick white pupils, and a genuine smile plastered on his face.
But all that is now just a distant memory, jumbled up in the tangle of the millions of dark thoughts and memories of watching everyone he knows fall to a flower or a child. No longer did he try. No longer did he care enough to save the ones he loved when they are in harm’s way, knowing everything will just revert back eventually.
It wasn’t something other monsters would even remember. It was something that he only did during the earlier resets, where he still thought that the things that had occurred were just weird dreams or nightmares. It was evident after a while that it in fact wasn’t just some strange visions of the future, but “resets” he and the others researched about.
The others. It was one of the few things Sans still care enough to attempt to bring back. The other scientists he worked with, forgotten by everyone except him. It was still one of Sans' biggest failures, letting them fall into the pure unadulterated pits of magic that powered the Core. Even after everything he’s been through, the waves of colours swirling below as he was forced to watch the people closest to him plummet into the depths, eyes pleading for him to use his blue magic to pull them up, only to be swallowed whole by the bright colours. Now forever lost time and space, it was still something that haunts him to this day.
Sans would’ve tried to save them, if he didn’t have a higher priority at the time. Doctor W D Gaster, the most brilliant mind the underground has never seen. The man who created both him and his brother with the combined power of science and magic. A man who raised them both. A man whom he called his dad, was also threatened with the same fate.
He was almost able to save him, the blue magic was able to catch him in time, and he was being lifted to safety. He was so close.
But then.
A single bolt of magic appeared from nowhere and struck his left eye socket.
The sudden strike was enough to make Sans lose focus, and the blue magic surrounding Wing Dings disappeared instantaneously, and he started to plummet down to the depths below again.
Sans tried again to save him after he recovered. But he was too late, he wasn’t able to reach him. He reached out one last time with his hand and yelled “dad!” Before watching the man who raise him follow the same fate as his followers.
After the incident, it was......strange, to say the least. Whenever he brought up any of those who fell, the person he’s talking to would have no recollection of them, no matter how close they were to them.
It took Sans a while to finally figure out what seems to have happened to them. Names of those who fell into the core disappear from all of the royal archives. Research paper that they worked on suddenly lack any creator names. Close family members unable to even remember them.
Somehow, falling into the Core erased their very existence in time and space, wiping any trace of them from history, leaving only a strange sense of familiarity to the names. Though the content of the research remained unchanged, any traces of the creators were gone, leaving only a blank space in its place.
Sans realized that he seems to be the only one to remember them clearly. His memories of working alongside them and joking with them still remaining intact. Why is HE the one that seems to remember? Suppose it could be the same reasons that he can remember between resets.
He has the suspicion that it is related to that magic eye of his. But as a monster of science, with the lack of evidence and reasonings to prove its direct linkage, it’ll just remain to be one of his “out of this world” hypothesis.
Though the one thing that is grounded in reality is just how powerful that magic eye of his is.
The magical capabilities of the Core were something no monsters were able to even begin to comprehend. Not even Gaster himself was able to fully know its limits. All they know is that it must be pretty damn powerful to be able power the entirety of the Underground with minimum effort.
Maybe it really is his magic eye that allows him to remember everything so clearly, it had boosted his magic tenfold, so who’s to say that it isn’t responsible for it too.
Sometimes Sans wondered whether his ability to remember is a blessing or a curse.
By remembering so much, he didn’t have to fear for the future. When everything just sort of becomes a routine. When everyone says the same things, he knows what to expect from them, knows just how to respond, and knows how they’ll react before they even do it.
But that’s a lie. Sans is still terrified of the every next second. Due to the “independent variables”, Sans is never sure of what happens next, even if he had been through it a million times over.
It feels like a joke that just repeats itself over and over, with the punchline always feeling like it’s approaching, when it’s ripped away from the freedom of escaping the joke teller’s mind. And the joke just repeats itself. Again. And again. And again, until it loses meaning and he just wished to whatever higher power there is for it to just stop already.
Perhaps it was fate’s cruel punishment for him. For failing those he cared about. For being so lazy all the damn time. For being just a burden to everyone and everything. Perhaps he should just.......
No. There wouldn’t be a point. It would only shorten the time it takes for him to be back in the loop again. For everything to just repeat itself again. Trying to end himself would just be an extra chore, and he sure as hell don’t feel like doing any chores.
Sans sighed. His eye sockets as dark as his own mind, he lifts his hand so the bottle was almost completely facing down, as he chugs down more of the ketchup, almost like it would somehow numb his consciousness out of reality. He sure wants to just hide away and never have to face the real world again.
But that wouldn’t work. Papyrus would just drag him back to reality. No matter where he hid, his brother always seems to be able to locate him in record time.
Papyrus. Sweet innocent Papyrus. The one who always chooses Mercy before Fight.
It never gets easier to watch him get turned to dust, especially knowing that he could have just done something, anything to just stop the kid. Throw a flurry of bone attacks. Trap it with his blue bones. Use his special attack. Anything to just stall the kid long enough for him to evacuate.
But no. He just stands there, arm outstretched, smiling like he’s greeting an old friend. Almost like he is just accepting his fate.
Though Sans couldn’t complain about Papyrus not doing anything to stop the kid. It’s not like he himself is doing much to intervene anyway.
But what’s the point of saving Papyrus. He’ll just come back after the reset. Without any memory of what transpired.
Even if he saved him this time. What about the next time? Or the timeline after that? Saving Papyrus wouldn’t have mattered, the kid would just reset and try again. It never mattered before, so why would it matter now.
Sans sipped on the ketchup one last time, gulping down the remainder of its contents, then wiped his mouth with his hoodie’s sleeve. He threw the empty bottle into the nearby trash bin, before getting off his stool, shoving his hands back into his pockets, and walking out the door.
The bell on the door jingled as he left the bar, stepping into the snowy ground once again, Sans started to make his way back home.
As he begins to trek, he can't help but gaze to the entrance of the town, leading into the forest.
In his mind's eye, he can see the large, looming purple doors at the beginning of the forest, still shut tightly. Still closed off to the rest of monster kind.
Sans can almost see that little world he and the old lady created nearly every day. Still feel his bony knuckles rapping at the door, sitting down with his back against it. Still hear the sound of muffled uproarious laughter from the other side at dumb jokes and even dumber puns. Still feel himself smiling just a little wider from being able to make someone laugh like that.
Now everything is just...quiet.
He found himself stopping in his tracks and just...staring at the distance.
He wonders how she is doing, if by some miracle the kid didn’t get to her.
Truly, there is nothing stopping him from entering the other side. He could easy blow the door off its hinges and walk through, or ”shortcut” his way in and just start exploring the Ruins. Well, nothing but his lack of motivation.
At first, he was just respecting her privacy. He knew who the old lady was. It wasn’t too difficult to identify her mannerism and voice to be exactly the same as the old queen of the Underground, Toriel. But it wasn‘t in his position to judge what or how she’s doing. So, he never did.
Now? It just didn’t matter. What would’ve been the point? There is no reason to go out of his way to check on a pile of dust. Especially when it won’t even last.
Some tiny speck that was a part of his mind was quietly hoping she was okay, that if he went there and knocked right now, he would respond in kind.
But that will too optimistic, and Sans the Skeleton doesn’t do optimism. He learnt to give up hope a hundred lifetimes ago.
So he sighed and just continue walking.
He reached his destination quickly, there wasn’t much distance. He pulled out his keys and start to unlock the door. The sound of the keys jingling in his hands is a welcome sound that broke through the unbearable nothingness
Though as soon as he put it back in his pocket, the silence came back, haunting him like a relentless apparition.
When he opened the door, the same silence followed him in. The house felt more colourless without his brother’s presence. The normal blue and purple carpet felt more gray.
He made his way up the stairs. Each step reverberating in the house, and entered Papyrus’ room.
He approached the race car bed. He remembered how thrilled his brother was when he first brought it in. How his eye sockets lit up at the thing and demanded it be put in his room, followed by a thousand thanks after he agreed.
He looked at the items placed on the bed. The familiar scarf and battle body, now adorned with a large gash in the chest region, with speckles of dust sprayed on random patches of the surface.
He gently caresses it, treating it like it’s the most precious thing in the universe.
He began to feel the familiar pull of darkness surround him, swallowing the walls, doors, and Papyrus’ other items.
Took it long enough. He thought as the darkness begin to swallow the figurines and the box of bones.
He looked at his brother’s clothes one more time, as the darkness start to swallow it. He’s already seen it enough time to know what is going to happen. Sighing and his eyes downcast, he welcomes the darkness to consume him.
“welp, see ya soon bro.”