Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time the gang discovered Killer’s stages, it was out of his hands. 

They were watching a movie and something must have triggered him. His body is suddenly full of tension, held awkwardly away from where he was annoyingly lounging on Dust. The slightly red glow from his exposed soul is erratic, and the knife he was idly flipping in his hand is suddenly held in a tight grip.

Killer is gone before they can ask him what’s wrong. Watery tears staining the couch black from his hasty retreat. Locking himself away in one of the castle’s many unused rooms, fear lacing his words as he told them all to stay away. They didn’t finish the movie that night. Instead, they listen to Nightmare’s brief explanation of Killer’s broken soul and its different soul stages. 

They left a package of Killer’s favorite spicy chips by the door. Ignoring the muffled whimpers from the other side of the door, they wish him goodnight and leave for each of their own rooms. 

The next morning, Killer’s is gone. Probably using the knife laced with Nightmare’s magic to leave this universe. All that’s left of him is the black puddle and the empty chips packaging.

Nightmare assures them that Killer will be fine. It happens more often than they think, and soon, Killer will find his way back into stage 2 and back home to them.

Stage 1 Killer trusted Color a lot. Stage 1 has always been more open than any of his other stages. So Color has known about Killer’s soul stages almost as long as he has known Killer. And Color follows Killer’s instructions regarding his soul state as best as he can. 

The heart-like soul is fine, he’s Color’s closest friend in the multiverse. He put a lot of trust in Color, and Color trusts him to the same degree. Be cautious around the target-like soul, he’s not likely to attack without reason but he’s not someone Color can trust. The erratic, target-like soul is someone Color hides away from at all cost. He knows Killer tells Color to kill him in that stage, but Color refuses to hurt his friend, even if that friend is not aware of it.

At the beginning, none of Killer’s instructions were particularly relevant. Color would visit Killer’s empty Underground to be greeted by a heart and Killer’s shaky smile. They would lounge in Waterfall, feet splashing in the water as they chat about whatever. Killer would pretend to dry his feet with Color’s flaming chest wound before shoving them in his sneakers. Color would laugh as he playfully pulled at the bottom of Killer’s turtleneck to dry his tears before pulling out a wad of napkins from his pocket and gently wiping Killer’s cheek.

It doesn’t happen often but whenever Color’s visit is greeted by Stage 2, it wouldn’t take long for a heart to quickly take over or for Stage 2’s avoidance behavior pushing Color to leave.

But then Killer meets Nightmare, or more accurately, Nightmare finds Killer. Suddenly, Killer’s empty Underground has been reset, identical to the classic timeline except there’s no Sans. 

A classic timeline sans Sans. Heh, Killer would have enjoyed that. Except Killer isn’t here to enjoy that joke. 

According to other multiverse travelers, Killer is out there multiverse hopping and creating chaos with Nightmare. That’s not the Killer Color has befriended, his Killer wouldn’t do that. Nightmare must have done something to him. So Color starts chasing after them, he has to get his Killer back.

It’s hard. Color is always a couple steps behind, arriving just to witness the devastation Killer has caused. He doesn’t know when or where Nightmare would strike, he’s acting on second-hand information at best. Color has considered approaching Dream, Nightmare’s brother, he always seems to know when Nightmare and Killer are causing havoc. But Color doesn’t want to fight Killer, he wants to save his friend. So he tailed him instead.

And it works. Color managed to catch Killer on what must be his downtime, stroking cats in an empty world. HIs soul was wobbling, but once Color calls out to him, it solidifies into that red heart shape he’s familiar with. It feels just like it used to, Killer greeting him with a heart, a dim eye-light, and that shaky smile. That shaky, emotional smile Color has been greeted with at the beginning of their friendship. Not that shaky, laughing smile Color has worked so hard to put on Killer’s face.

These meetings would never last long, Nightmare will always track them down sooner or later. When he does, Killer’s soul would wobble into stage 2, and Color’s initial reaction of loss and anger would feed Nightmare and force Color to flee. 

Color hates it, but it makes him even more determined to chase after Killer, even sneaking into the edges of their fight against the Dream. He begins carrying snacks and healing items in his inventory, just in case Killer ever needs it. He once even gifted Killer a brand new combat knife after watching Killer’s dull knife almost injure him in a fight. All these little meetings are worth it, just to see Killer smile and joke around with him again.

Then things started to change. Dream gathered some friends to help him fight, and Nightmare did the same. The fights between them get more intense, more destructive. Killer starts to laugh and give taunts during fights, but it’s not the laugh that Color remembers. The fights get more spaced out, and Killer’s injuries seem to be healed more professionally. The change is a double-edged sword, and not just to Killer’s physical well-being. Because after a particularly destructive battle, Killer asks Color not to chase after him anymore.

“It’s too dangerous,” he says, “But I have more downtime, and I can travel the multiverse now. So let me find you instead.”

Reluctantly, Color agreed. Finally traveling the multiverse just to enjoy the view and diversity. But he still spends most of his time either back at home in Othertale’s void, a neutral cat cafe in Fluffytale, or the empty world where he found Killer petting cats. Just so it’s easier for Killer to find him. Killer does manage to visit more often, and while Killer avoided talking about his time with Nightmare’s gang, he does talk a lot about the worlds he visited.

It’s almost like old times. Except, now Killer is the one visiting at odd hours, and he’s the one that has to go. As much as Color tries to avoid triggering Killer’s other stages, sometimes it just happens. When it does, Killer is quick to leave, only giving Color a quick snarl before he whips out a black tinted knife and rips open a portal to the multiverse. Probably going back to Nightmare and his gang.

And Color is back to waiting and worrying.

Like Nightmare says, Killer does come back. Bursting into the dining room two days later, taking a spoonful of Dust’s breakfast and draping himself over Cross shoulders. Cross wrestles Killer off himself and into a chair whilst Dust half-heartedly glares and Horror grabs a breakfast serving for him. Acting as if he didn’t disappear for a day, Killer just sits there with his usual gremlin energy, eating his breakfast and asking how the movie ended. When instead of answers, Killer is met with questions of where he’s been and worries, he quickly slams a knife onto the table, silencing everyone.

“Don’t worry about it, alright?” gesturing to his soul, Killer continues, “You can trust me when I’m like this. The other me with the heart soul wouldn’t hurt you he’ll just flee to that flame-head, but don't trust whatever crap I says when I'm like that. And steer clear if it’s an twisting erratically… would probably try to kill you.”

And that’s all that Killer’s willing to talk about regarding his soul. The gang started to notice Killer’s disappearance during downtimes. How sometimes Killer would come to breakfast from the direction of the front door instead of his room. How sometimes his room is left empty at night. The gang adjusts. Horror would serve Killer’s favorite hot wings when he notices that Killer’s room is empty. Cross would goad him into a fight, or a spar, when he notices that Killer’s feeling down. And Dust would slightly tolerate Killer’s playful insults more than he normally would when Killer has been gone for more than a day.

That doesn’t mean there haven't been more abrupt changes like that one movie night. Sometimes they would find Killer standing tense, grasping a combat knife that he never used with a single dim eyelight flitting between them. Cross has tried talking to him and Horror has offered him food, but in the end they have all learned to leave him alone. Killer was right, the heart soul wouldn’t harm them, he would just open a portal and run away.

The castle would be a tad bit quieter for a few hours, but all they have to do is wait for their Killer to return. Horror would have snacks ready, Cross is always up for a fight, and Dust could always do without Killer’s pranks for a while.

Chapter Text

Horror

The gang have gotten used to Killer’s different stages. They’ve even thought up an emergency protocol for the unlikely event that stage 1 emerged in the midst of battle. Which is to say, proceed as usual but retreat quicker. After all, according to Killer he’s still the same person with the same memories and skill, just different emotional responses.

“You guys are overthinking it! I accepted death but don’t wanna die, so even in a different stage, I’ll keep fighting.” Killer explains with a shrug, ending the discussion. With the dismissal, the group dispersed, Dust probably going back to his room and Cross taking the opportunity for extra training. 

Horror moves towards the kitchen to start preparing dinner, meanwhile Killer stays sitting on the dining table. His hands are calmly whittling away a piece of wood while he talks. His soul is wobbling, but it hasn’t changed from a target into a heart so the gang assumes that it’s still their Killer. Killer would probably disappear by dinner time. 

That actually got Horror into thinking, whoever the other Killer is meeting up with clearly cares about him. It hasn't gone unnoticed that sometimes Killer came back with his injuries healed better than what meager amount of healing magic the gang have is capable of. So Horror trusts whoever the guy was to physically care for Killer.

But what about his food intake? The multiverse works in interesting ways, and time is unpredictable. The fact that Horror, whose experience with the determined human has passed years ago, can coexist with Dust and Killer who encountered the human mere moments before leaving their universe is proof of that. So Horror can’t trust Killer’s friend to know it’s dinner time.

“Killer?” Horror calls out. Seeing Killer’s nod, he continues, “Do you want… dinner packed… before you go?”

Killer’s hands seemed to slow, until his whittling became nothing more than scratching. The wobbling in his soul seems to slow too, until it solidifies into a heart. Hesitantly, Killer gave his answer.

“... Wings?”

“Sure,”

It was a surprise for Horror, seeing how this Killer for once didn’t immediately rip open a portal and run away. But preparing dinner with him, accepting his offer to help, chatting with him. He chops food the same fast and precise way their Killer does, just with less power. He cracks the same kind of jokes, just with a hint of hesitance. His smile is the same, but somehow smaller and with more emotion.  And even his laugh is the same.

This is still his Killer, just more restraint. So that’s what Killer meant by being the same person, different emotional response.

And when the food is finished and Killer is ready to go, seeing the single dim eyelight in his socket looking at him.

It was nice. 

Maybe he should try talking to Killer’s other stages more often. It’s Killer after all. His colleague , his friend, and dare he say it, his brother.

Even after equipping both himself and Killer with multiverse-compatible phones, Color still prefers to hang around in the same universes. So he was enjoying stroking one of the stray cat in this empty world when he heard a portal open.

Color was ready to be greeted by a shaky Killer, yet when he turns around what greets him is an eager Killer with a food container in his grasp. 

“Color!” he greets, “I got wings!”

With that exclamation, Killer shoved the container into Color’s hands. Putting his arms around Color’s shoulder, Killer continues to explain how he has prepared it together with Horror and that they can lounge here, have a picnic date, or move to Fluffytale and grab some drinks too. And, wait—

Quickly interrupting Killer’s talk, Color asks, “ You prepared this with Horror? Stage One ?”

Pausing briefly, Killer explains, “The gang were making strategies for if I ever switched mid-battle, so I was already shaky for a bit. Then Horror offered to pack me dinner and my emotions just hits... He clearly cares about me, and so do I, even if I don’t fully trust him. So I stayed for the wings.”

Huh.

“Did you enjoy hanging out with him?”

“Yeah!” with a big smile, Killer gushes, “He was just worried about me skipping dinner. It's nice, I get why I care about him.”

“That’s good, maybe you should try talking with him more… and the others too.”

“... Maybe”

Cross

They were sparring. Not out of any obligation, otherwise both Horror and Dust would’ve joined them, but simply to let off steam. And a little bit of bonding. Probably because all of Cross’ friends from his universe are fellow royal guards. Nothing says bonding more than trying to stab each other with magically summoned knives.

It was a pretty close sparring match. So to shake things up a bit, Cross proposed they use each other’s weapons. Cross with Killer’s combat knife while Killer will be double wielding Cross’s bone daggers. It wouldn’t be much of a problem with Cross, he was trained in all kinds of weaponry. But it adds a new challenge for Killer, who’s proficiency with knives mostly came from instinct and a lot of experience. So instead of immediately starting to spar, Cross gave some time for Killer to adjust. Whilst examining his new weapons and getting used to its foreign balance, in typical Killer behavior, he started making comments and taunts. And Cross isn’t going to take those taunts quietly.

A verbal spar before the physical spar. Honestly, just another day for Killer and Cross.

Finally managing to comfortably twist Cross’s daggers in his hands, Killer holds both daggers out in front of him. “Can’t believe you’ve once broken my arm with this, Crossy.” Aligning Cross’s silhouette to the holes of the blade and widening his grin, Killer continues, “Let’s see if I can manage to do the same.”

Huffing in annoyance, Cross retorts how, “Technically it was XGaster, not me. And while I can definitely recreate what I did, I highly doubt your untrained ass can.”

Seemingly miffed at Cross’s arrogant declaration, Killer lowers himself into a fighting stance, “... It’s not like you walk away from that fight unscathed, Crossy.” Killer snickers, “Don’t forget, I gave you a boob window.”

With that, Killer lunges forward, blades swinging upwards towards Cross’s head with momentum. Predictable move, Cross readies himself to duck under the blades, his knife held in a reverse grip ready to counter Killer’s move with a vertical slice of his own. 

The fight has begun.

…

Cross is standing in a relaxed stance, one hand idly  flipping Killer’s knife while the other is thrust in his pocket. Not too far away from him, is Killer. Lying face down, flat on the floor, twin daggers far out of reach.

The fight has ended, and with an obvious winner.

Shaking the kinks out of his shoulder, Cross moves to sit cross-legged next to Killer’s body. Within moments, Killer has rolled to put his head on Cross’s lap. His hands reach up to take his knife back, inspecting it for any damages.

“Did you seriously think you can win against a trained royal guard using an unfamiliar weapon?” Cross asks. 

“Shut uuup! I thought I could use them like knives but longer, okay?”

Noticing how Killer avoided his gaze in embarrassment, Cross snorted. Lightly, he shakes his legs up and down to see if Killer would move from his lap. Seeing that Killer’s head just bobbed along with his movement, and that Killer had absolutely no intention of moving, Cross put his arms back and leaned into them. Guess they’re both tired and are not ready to move from the floor.

Looking down on Killer like this, Cross thinks back to their first fight, the one they’ve discussed before starting the last spar. His memories of the events weren’t the best, he can feel XGaster using him like a puppet and that’s what he remembers the most. But even so, he remembers facing off against Killer. In fact, he remembers seeing his soul twitching and a dim eyelight drowned by the blaster's glow. 

Frowning to himself, Cross says his thoughts out loud. “Were you in stage 1 during the fight where I broke your arm?”

Thinking back to his emotional state during the fight, Killer frowns. “I guess I was close, but I don’t think I got to stage 1.”

It was a weird emotional battle in a weird emotional situation all around. Considering that Cross has been revived mere hours before, and the majority of the multiverse just broke. The fact that even the timeline Killer abandoned long ago was gone stirred something in him then.

And it still stirred something in him now, seeing as his soul is wobbling again. Cross must have noticed too considering he’s looking down at Killer like that.

“Uhh dude, what is it about that fight that got you so shaken?”

Everything. Ugh, that battle started so beautifully and ended up a disaster. The fight against Dream was fun, although Dream was noticeably weaker than usual. But then things got worse.

Killer doesn't know much about Cross back then, but what he does know about Cross hurts . The broken universe. The broken soul. Even the state that they first found Cross in, drowning in his own emotions, hurts. Probably doesn't help that his introduction to XTale was XChara's manipulation attempt and soul stealing. And then XGaster, the bastard, possessed Cross made him fight.

Stupid writers and their ability to force everyone, to change everyone, to do things exactly the way they wanted to. Something perfect, something new.

Rolling to his side, Killer grabs at the bottom of Cross's jacket and pulls it over his face. "It's just bad." His soul has solidified into a heart, and Cross has also caught a glimmer of it before Killer curls into himself. 

It makes Cross feel slightly guilty, triggering Killer into stage 1. The stage that keeps running away from them. He takes one hand to give Killer a gentle head pat. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

All of the sudden, Killer pushed himself up and Cross found himself pinned down by his shoulder. Giggling slightly at Cross's very undignified yelp, Killer utters. "I'm glad you're here now, Crossy."

Looking up to meet Killer's sockets, Cross is met with a single eyelight. Dim and small, just like he remembers. The emotion behind the eyelight surprises him, it's full of care and relief. Softly, Cross breathes out, "Yeah…"

With a smile, Killer lowers himself to lay on Cross’s chest and Cross returns to slowly patting his head"

Horror found them an hour later. Sleeping in sweaty clothes on the floor of the training room, blades just a few steps away. It doesn’t look comfortable, with Killer clinging onto Cross like a koala and Cross’s knee digging into Killer’s ribs. But it does look peaceful, as if all the worries in their souls have been sliced away into nothing.

Chapter Text

Dust

The amount of time Dust has felt paralyzing guilt has been slowly decreasing, but it still happens. The guilt of killing everyone, He had to do it, it was getting out of hand, the resets have to stop. But sometimes he can’t justify his LV grind to himself. The guilt overcoming him during the execution of Nightmare’s mission is normal, but usually Papy would snap him out of it. Not fully, he deserves to suffer with his guilt, but just enough that he can fulfill his mission and breakdown at home.

Today is not that day. Maybe Dust has pissed off Papy a lot, that surpassed his usual vengeful state and wishes for Dust to die. He wasn’t sure what the monster he’s facing has said but it sure must have a stronger effect than the usual screams of terror. The monster raises a hand in front of them, they’re probably going to summon a magical attack. Dust watches numbly as small white pellets slowly move towards him. And yet, before they can touch him, the monster is dead. Blasted away by Killer, and a giant, malformed, crying blaster. It suits him.

Before Dust can process anything more, Killer has ripped open a portal and dragged him through. Killer is not done, shoving Dust to sit on the living room couch and grabbing his face firmly, telling Dust to snap out of it. 

Oh, Dust is looking straight into Killer’s sockets, and it has an eyelight. Whatever that monster said must have been a genocide thing instead of a brother thing. Killer wouldn’t feel feelings over a comment about good family dynamics by a random monster. Maybe he would if it’s by an alternate Papyrus, or even an alternate Sans, but not from some insignificant Snowdin bunny. 

Comments about committing genocide however… well there's got to be a reason his soul becomes so abnormally non-monster and non-human. High LV and brief discussions about his Chara pretty much confirms Killer did the same twisted thing Dust did.

Killer is still standing in front of him. Snapping his fingers in front of Dust’s face and looking more frustrated by the second. His black tears look more liquid than they usually are, are they mixed with his actual tears? Those watery tears are dropping down, it’s going to leave more black stains on the couch than what it already has. Are those real tears being cried over his actions?

Dust wonders if he himself has ever cried out of guilt. After all, if there’s anyone that can relate to Dust’s guilt, it would be Killer. Horror has never been pushed into killing everyone in his world. Nightmare has but his action was driven out of insanity Cross also has, but he doesn’t know what it feels like to lose count over the hundreds of resets, not when his world has 10 clearly defined timelines. Meanwhile, Dust knows Killer has experienced both the resets and the genocides, even if Dust doesn’t know the details. 

He wonders…

“Do you also feel guilt?”

Dust’s eyes meet with Killer’s. It’s not a genuine question, not when the answer is so obvious. Looking at Killer now and comparing that to the Killer he came to know. There’s a reason the Killer he knows is so emotionally fake, with overly exaggerated expressions. He’s splintered. Broken. Not the same way Dust is broken and full of splinters, heh.

Killer’s frowning a bit, he doesn’t like that question. Dust probably wouldn’t like whatever answer Killer gave too, so he doesn’t know why he asked. If Papy was here he would most likely tell Dust to whip out his blaster and take Killer’s EXP whilst he’s distracted. Ah right, blaster. 

“Why didn’t you ever use that giant blaster of yours?”

Killer looks at him with a calculating look–, and isn’t that weird to be able to see that in his eyes– before he retorts with a smirk. “Just didn’t wanna overshadow you and your LV-driven magic”

What a classic example of deflection and distraction. Well, distraction is a way to deal with trauma right? It seems like they both need it.

“... yeah right. Admit you just prefer to keep things close and personal.”

Killer is still looking at him with that look. It doesn’t matter, whatever he’s looking for, Dust isn’t a threat. Not when Dust is clutching at his frayed scarf, gaze slightly unfocused, magic unstable as hell. Not when Killer can apparently summon a giant blaster. With a huff, Killer drops to the couch next to Dust.

“I’m just not as lazy as you, parking my ass and shooting from one spot.”

“It’s effective.”

“Whatever. At least I exercise.”

“And I’m glad you’re releasing your pent up energy at anything but me.”

“You’re just salty I told Cross you’re interested in learning actual weaponry.”

“He pulled me for extra training! I was napping!”

Killer snorted at that, the asshole. Then the back and forth continues. Until the other’s return from the mission. From Killer’s rushed text explaining their retreat, they were expecting an empty living room with Dust isolating in his room and Killer gone to another universe. Not a stable Dust trying to smother Killer with a throw pillow whilst Killer laughs uncontrollably.

Color

It’s not rare for Killer to return to the gang while his soul is wobbling. It is, however, rare for Killer to come back while he’s still firmly in stage 1. While he has started to get used and trusts the gang in stage 1, unless he decides to stay at the castle, Killer spends most of that time with his friend.

So when Killer came back from his friend and threw himself onto the couch while still in stage 1, it got the gang worried. And protective. Maybe a bit too protective, seeing how Dust’s eyes immediately light up with magic and Horror seems ready to either pull out his axe or rush to the kitchen.

Thankfully Cross was a bit more level headed than the others, opting for questions before actions. 

“Kills? What’s wrong?”

Growling a little in the cushion, Killer mutters his deflection. “It’s nothing,” he says, grabbing Cross’s arm to drag him away, “Let’s go spar.”

And while Cross was happy to oblige, it was concerning. They’ve learned that Killer in stage 1 is capable of fighting as much as his stage 2 counterpart, albeit with more magic than physical attacks. But Killer in stage 1 has never enjoyed sparring in the few spare times he’s in control.

Concerned, Dust and Horror follows after the two. Cross tosses Killer his Knife and grabs his twin daggers for himself. Before Cross can properly position himself, Killer strikers. That is something that no longer happens whenever any of them spar. Other than the initial aggression between Killer and Dust back when it was just the two of them, Horror dislikes unnecessary violence, and Cross, who was royally trained, has hammered proper sparring etiquettes into their skull.

One of those etiquettes was not to do so near spare weapons, and Cross was clearly still in the armory. Thankfully Cross manages to tackle Killer to continue the fight away from other weapons, with Dust quickly locking the armory door with his magic.

The fight was clearly brutal, with drops of blood staining the floor. But it’s pretty clear who’s winning. In a short amount of time, Cross has Killer disarmed and thrown to a wall. As Killer lunges at Cross empty handed, Cross throws him down to the floor and pins him with a foot to the chest.

Interrupting Killer as he trashes, Cross gives an order. “Stop squirming. Summon your blaster.”

When Killer continues to trash, Cross stomps his foot and raises his knife. “Summon and fire your blaster right now! Get me off yourself!”

This time, his trashing less powerful, Killer responded with a snarl. “Why?”

“Summon your blaster and take this fight seriously or tell me what’s bugging you. I’m not here to be your punching bag”

Somehow, Cross’s words got through to Killer, ceasing his struggle and laying limp on the floor. Before he covers his face and groaned in frustration, “... Me an Color—”

Both Horror and Dust moved closer as Cross confirms, “Your stage 1 buddy?”

“Yea. We were talking about you guys, how he glad is that I got more people I feel safe with and stuff, “

“Didn’t seems like anything is wrong, “

“Stop interrupting… He asked me about stage 2.”

Horror frowns at that, “What’s wrong with stage 2? You don’t trust him?”

“No. Yes. Ugh. I don’t know. I don’t trust stage 2.”

“You’re scared you might hurt him.”

“Yes! Color’s powerful, he can easily beat me if he wants to but I know he won't, even if I’m hurting him.”

With that, Killer rolls over in frustration. It sucks, he truly does want Color to get to know him, all of him. So he really wants his stage 2 self and Color to meet and get along. But considering Color has previously met stage 2 before he actually solidifies a personality to go along with it, he’s scared that their previous aggressive avoidance might carry over to the present.

Killer continues to think it over in his head, until Dust interrupts his thoughts, “What if we watch over him?”

The gang doesn’t know much about Color other than that he’s a flame-head. But considering he has agreed to be under the supervision of some of the multiverse most well known murderers, he must have been really serious about getting to know Killer. With that in mind, the gang didn’t worry much about Color.

Until the day of the meet up and immediately greets them with a combat knife.

… And gave it to Killer, who examines the knife quietly as Color explains. “I gave you a knife once to protect yourself but I noticed you never use it, so I got you another knife now that we’re officially getting to know each other.”

Then both of them moved away without even sparing the rest of the gang a glance.

With a shrug, the gang follows after them. They’re currently in Fluffytale, one of Killer and Color’s frequent meet up places. Ordering drinks and sitting themselves on the counter, the gang watches Killer interact with Color in a deeper corner of the café. 

It’s an interesting watch. At first, Killer seems unsure about Color, fiddling with his new knife as Color leads the conversation. Then Killer finds his footing, responding in his usual mischievous, flirtatious, and over the top way, and Color matches his energy in strides. They don't know what the two are talking about, but whatever it is seems fun.

At some point, Killer moves to sit on the floor, petting the cats that pass by, and Color moves to squat in front of him. He says something that elicits a loud laugh from both of them as Killer jokingly pushes Color down.

It's obvious at this point that Killer doesn't need their supervision. The gang has lowered their vigilance, enjoying their drinks, petting the cats, and chatting amongst themselves.

At some point, Cross looks back at the pair to find Killer sitting slump against Color’s side whilst Color playfully swings a cat toy in front of Killer’s face. In Color’s other hand is a crumpled tissue stained in black. The flames coming out of his head seem to soften as it flashes between colors. It looks intimate, definitely more than what was supposed to be a long overdue introduction.

And it clicked into Cross’s mind. The nervousness, the meeting gift, the closeness. Killer took an effort to use his least stained jacket today. Those two, and their frequent meetings.

Turning around to Dust and Horror, Cross was ready to state his realization. Only to find them both huddled so close together, it’s almost impossible to see Dust beneath Horror’s larger frame. They’re whispering and laughing quietly, talking about something Cross can’t quite hear.

Burying his head in his hands, Cross gave a horrified whisper, “I’m fifth wheeling…”

They stay until it’s near closing time, Color approaching them as Killer gives some final pets to the cats. He seems determined and confident, hands in his pockets as he greets them.

“Thanks, for being there and being someone Killer can trust.”

Dust shrugs at that, “We live and work together, it’s bound to happen.”

Color gives a bittersweet smile at that, his flames sharpens and glows a bright yellow, “Killer said that he’s better now and that he promised he won’t, but after what happened back then, I don't quite trust Nightmare.”

And that grabs their attention, “... What?”

But before they can press Color for more details, Killer jumps and snuggles onto Color’s back. 

“Thanks for today, Color, “ jumping around Color, Killer starts walking towards the gang, herding them back towards the portal home, “And thanks for the awesome knife!”

“Course. Stay safe, Kills!”

And with that, the portal closes behind them, leaving the gang confused with giddy Killer.

Chapter Text

If Killer were to suddenly decide, he’s going to explain how his soul, and emotional responses, works to his friends. Instead of just giving them instructions on how to deal with him. It would definitely be done by Stage 1, and it would go somewhere along the lines of this.

Think of the yeast in a jar that Horror keeps. In stage 1, the jar is open and he can feel all his emotions. In stage 2, the jar's lid is loose and he can only access the yeast/emotions that have overflowed. In stage 3, the jar’s lid is airtight, nothing comes out, nothing comes in. All that’s left is survival instincts, fight or flight.

Stage 2 Killer won’t ever decide to explain how his soul works. Thinking about it doesn’t spark much emotion in him, thus, it doesn’t feel important to him. But if he were ordered to do so, it would depend on his mood. On days where he feels the need to exaggerate how he expresses his emotions, he would do the same as stage 1. But flirtier, and using less innocent metaphors. On days where he feels motivated about his soul studies, he would present the information like a lab report, complete with a warning that these are hypotheses with limited evidence. Why wouldn’t there be limited evidence when the only known case of it is himself.

(Whatever way Killer explains it, he would skip over stage 4. Because honestly, he doesn’t understand stage 4 at all.)

In reality, Killer has never decided, or ordered, to tell anyone how his soul works. Souls are the entirety of your being after all. It’s bad enough that his soul is bared open floating in front of him, no one needed to know more details about it.

Doesn’t mean that no one knows. Nightmare does, he has to know considering how Killer’s employment began by pure emotional and soul manipulation. There’s a reason that even after Nightmare’s apology and way more considerate attitude, Killer still avoids him whenever he’s starting to wobble into stage 1. Killer doesn’t know how Nightmare knows, but if he were to guess, he probably learned it with help of his empathic ability. 

Along the same vein of thought, Dream would probably know too, or would if he ever bothered to pay attention. Because if he knew, Dream wouldn’t have done what he just did. 

Shot an arrow of positivity straight at Killer.

Cross has once described it as a twisted version of being high, or what he thought being high feels like. Being happy, or endeared, or excited or amused or relaxed, or — you get the point.

Just feeling overwhelmingly positive on absolutely nothing.

Killer disagrees with Cross. He can’t describe what he’s feeling as being high. If anything, it feels like being caught in a tsunami. And his soul reflects that. 

Killer immediately lunges towards Dream in response. Knife in a tight grip. Slashing crazily and forcing Dream to back off. It’s not a worrying thing, since the gang knew that as mortals, Dream’s arrow only causes a bit of a sting and no physical damage. Doesn’t mean there’s nothing worrying about Killer’s action. Because when Cross came behind Killer, ready to help Killer tag team Dream, Killer turns around and attacks Cross instead. 

That’s when everyone, Dream included, got worried. And that’s when the gang notices Killer’s soul. Twisting and turning erratically, this is the stage 3 Killer warns them about. To steer clear and avoid. 

Thankfully Cross manages to parry the attack, throwing Killer out of the way. Nightmare, deeming that this mission has gone off the rails, restrains Killer in his tentacles, and quickly moves his gang back home.

Everyone was a bit confused, but with Nightmare’s explanation they all got the gist of it.

Killer has been hit by Dream’s positivity arrow. The overabundance of feelings throwing him into stage 1, and the unexplainable source of these feelings scares him into stage 3. And he is ready to take on whatever he deems as a threat to himself. 

During Nightmare’s, Killer still struggles within Nightmare’s hold. His knife has been pried out of his hands and his hands are being held tight to his sides, yet no demand left its mouth. No screaming to be released, no begging to let him go, just grunts of exertion. Compared to how loud Killer usually is, it’s unsettling. 

They have all loosen up slightly, now that they know what’s wrong with Killer. But as they watch what Nightmare does next, they all stiffen.

“It’s alright, I know what to do.” Nightmare says. One of his tentacles moves closer and hovers closely over Killer’s erratic soul, making Killer struggle harder.

At that, Horror takes out his axe and slices Nightmare’s tentacle. With that, Dust takes control, “Horror, restraint Killer. Boss, out!”

Horror quickly shoves Nightmare as he wraps his arm around Killer’s chest, stopping him from taking out a hidden knife and running away. Cross follows suit, taking out his daggers and pushing Nightmare out of the room, and taking guard in front of the door. “What now?” he asks.

“Now, we call Color and see if he knows anything.”

“And Killer?”

“For now, we do this.” Dust walks up to Killer, and decks him unconscious.

Killer woke up, sitting up and immediately hit his head against something. It doesn’t help that its followed by snickers and Dust’s annoying voice, “Good morning sleepyhead,“

Sitting up more cautiously, Killer looks down to see he was lying on a café booth, his head must have hit the table. Throwing a dirty look towards Dust, he whines, “You decked me!”

Dust simply replies with a shrug and a smug look, “You were being murderous, yeah.”

“Thought I told you guys to go away.”

Horror growls at that, “Not leaving you alone with Nightmare…”

Everyone quiets down at that. The reminder that their boss’s tentacles, his main weapon, was hovering a bit too close to their friend’s entire being. Seemingly willing to put his hand on it and squished Killer’s soul back into coherence.

Cross tried to lighten up the room then, “Hey, did you know that Color’s a nomad?”

Killer didn’t know that, but hearing it makes sense in his head. Of course Color would be a nomad, after being stuck for a significant amount of time in the void, he would probably hate being tied down to one place. It’s kind of nice to know that Color keeps coming back to their few agreed spaces despite his probable wanderlust.

Dust snorts, “Poor Horror gotta carry your dead weight around while Color finds somewhere safe for us.” Horror just shrugs at that as if it was no big deal, and it probably isn’t. Horror can comfortably throw them all across the room if he ever wanted to.

Killer looks around the room. It’s clearly after closing time, the chairs are stacked on the tables and only one set of lights are on. The room is empty, there’s no one here but them. “So where’s Color now?”

Color came in the room then, carrying a tray filled with drinks, a treat from Ccino apparently. “Here! I was talking to Ccino in the breakroom.” Quickly distributing the drinks, Color puts down the tray and gives Killer a hug. “He was going to do the thing again, wasn’t he?”

The room’s atmosphere darkens again. Cross, too curious for his own good, interjects before anyone else could speak up. “Yeah… It looked like he was going to grab your soul and shape it himself. Was he really going to do that?” he speaks in horror.

Horror adds to what Cross said, “When we saw that… remembered Color’s warning.”

Killer shrugs uncaringly, “Yeah, he’s done it before.”

But while Killer seems uncaring, Color seems angered. His flames sharpen and flashes bright as he speaks, “That guy. He’s an entity with no actual soul that can no longer see emotions as an abstract like we mortals do. That’s why he’s so utterly careless over other people’s souls.” 

Unconsciously, Color stands in front of Killer, his stance protective. Color does relax a bit after Killer draped his body over Color’s shoulders, but that doesn’t stop him from ranting out about Nightmare. How he took Killer away from Color, separating them for a long period of time. How he resets all the healing progress Killer has done. How he molds Killer’s soul to get a good henchman. How he takes advantage of a ‘young’ stage 2 Killer’s still blank state. How it got worse because not only was Killer isolated from everyone else, stage 2 doesn’t quite understand how wrong messing with someone’s soul is to defend himself.

During the rant, the gang grows quiet. Listening deeply to what Color is saying and comparing it to the Nightmare they come to know. Nightmare have never hurt them, mostly being a distant figure whenever they’re not on a mission and very rarely helps them during an emotional breakdown. But they remember the harsh insults and the snapping tentacles whenever something pisses Nightmare off. The careless way he talks about Horror’s experience with famine or Cross’s stay in his broken universe, or how he ignorantly dismisses Dust’s hallucinations. It’s not that far to imagine their Nightmare from the one Color described.

Killer just leans further into Color. “Color, it’s fine. Like you said, he’s different so he probably forgot. It was a chaotic situation and he backed off when the others told him to. It was hazy but I remember that.”

“Until next time things go to shit. The others won’t always be there.” Color scoffs. He doesn’t like the defensive tone Killer’s using in the context of Nightmare. That guy took Color’s best friend away from him, forcibly keeping him away. His flames sharpen in anger. 

It was inevitable that an argument would break out.

The rest of the gang stays out of it. As ignorant as their boss might be and how much worse they’ve learned he could be, they can’t bring themselves to hate Nightmare. Not when he has given Horror contacts to various Farmtale universes and secure Horror’s and his Snowdin’s food supply. Not when he has taken the time to teach Cross the depths of multiverse travel and gifting him a knife embedded with traversal magic. Not when he has given Dust invaluable tips and a safe space to deal with his heightened, out of control, LV.

The argument came to a head when Color started shouting. “He was clearly manipulating to keep stage 1 out! You could’ve run with me! Why would you stay?”

At that, Killer seems to try and calm himself down. It’s disturbing when you realize why he’s doing so. Trying to forcibly dampen his emotion and keep stage 1 out of this argument. It’s even more disturbing when you hear how flat Killer’s tone is when he finally replies.

“You’re right, it was manipulation. And I liked it, stage 1 did too. He can’t deal with the overwhelming guilt and I like getting the chance to explore. But then there’s you,” he points at Color, “you wanted someone familiar, you wanted to talk to a Sans and you found him in stage 1. You didn’t want me, I was a blank. You would stare at me hoping I’ll go away.” Diluted tears fell from his cheeks, Killer takes a breath and continues. 

“Have you ever thought that maybe Nightmare met me first and not stage 1. Yeah, I was selfish to stay and keep stage 1 out, but I like being seen as ‘the real self’. So why wouldn’t I stay with him over running with you?”

Hastily, Killer shoved his filled cup to Color’s chest, its content spilling all over Color. “I’m stable now. I’m going home.”

Chapter Text

Nightmare surely didn’t expect Killer to return so soon after his blunder. But here he is, ripping open a portal in the middle of the living room. The atmosphere is awkward as the rest of the gang lags behind Killer, but Nightmare gives Killer a curt apology which Killer accepts with a dismissive wave and a lazy warning not to do it again. 

Then Killer promptly left for his room. Nightmare feels how his emotions are still weird and unbalanced, but he promised so he won’t interfere for now. Instead, he pays attention to the rest of his subordinates. All of them holding in sets of half-hearted, conflicting emotions. Ugh, they are normal monsters with a different understanding of souls and emotions, and they just watched him prey on their colleague’s soul.

There’s no need for this, he shall dismiss them. “Get yourself your required sustenance and do whatever it is you all do in your spare time. No missions for the rest of the week.”

There, he has given them four days. That should be enough time to recuperate from the last battle as well as sort out their feelings.

Except it didn’t. Absolutely nothing sort itself out within the four days Nightmare has given them. In fact, for all they try to act like everything is normal, their emotional state got worse. Their initial aggressive feelings towards him were understandable and so is Dust’s and Cross’s relief whenever they enter their room or when multiverse exploring, if not slightly more intense then it usually is. But Horror’s overwhelming positivity upon seeing the kitchen stock or anyone walking with a snack is annoying, especially since Nightmare thought he has fixed that emotional response.

Then there’s Killer. His usually muted emotion has been building up like a balloon just waiting to pop. It’s a surprise he has yet to snap into stage 1 and leave the castle’s premise. Instead he forcibly expresses his normally chaotic personality before running off into his room or another isolated part of the castle.

So Nightmare decided, it’s time to interfere. Starting with talking with his longest serving subordinate. 

Slinking out of the shadows in Killer’s room, Nightmare didn’t waste any time. “Something is happening between all of you. Explain.”

Killer, the insolent brat, didn’t even look up from his whittling. “Hello to you too, boss. Everything is fine. When and what’re we hitting next?”

Nightmare’s tentacles flare up with that blatant lie, but he calms himself. “Do not lie to me, Killer. I’m giving you a chance, explain.”

Killer finally looks up, “They’ve only been talking with Color about the development of our beautiful relationship behind our backs.” He reported sarcastically, “Nothing worth worrying over.”

Nightmare raises an eyebrow at that. That would certainly explain their behavior. It should be an easy fix, and if they’re unwilling to mend this with him then they’re free to go. The multiverse is near infinite, it won’t be hard to find and convince another monster to join him.

Giving Killer a quick expression of gratitude, Nightmare slinks back into the shadows and moves into the living room, summoning his other subordinates as he did so.

They all stand to attention as they are summoned, probably expecting the end of their spare time and ready for another mission. But they noticeably grew uneasy as they took note of Killer’s absence.

“Stop fretting, I’ve talked to Killer and now I’m talking to you.” At that, they all tensed. But Nightmare doesn’t acknowledge their response, continuing. “According to Killer, you’ve been talking to a friend of his and understandably have some concerns. So we’re here to sort it all out once and for all. If you’re unwilling to do so you can start gathering your belongings and I would consider it your two weeks resignation letter. So either move it, or start asking questions.”

A beat passes before Cross opens his mouth, and that starts a whole new barrage of questions from the other two.

It took a while but Nightmare did answer all their questions about his past relationship with Killer.

Yes, it was manipulative and borderline abusive.

Yes, he now knew it was wrong.

Yes, he has talked it out with Killer and has mostly settled out the bad blood between them.

Yes, Killer has means to protect himself. In fact, he's given a knife embedded with Nightmare's magic not just so he can escape, but also because it's something capable of hurting Nightmare.

No, he won’t take their stuff if they do decide to leave.

No, he’s not going to forcefully manipulate their soul. He has learnt.

Yes, the last incident was an accident and he has talked it out with Killer. Mostly. He has apologized and Killer has accepted but Killer hasn’t been quite right these last few days either.

And many more,

“If you’re quite satisfied with your questions, mind answering one of my own?” Nightmare asks.

His subordinates' emotions have significantly calmed down, no longer as conflicting as it had been these last few days. It also seems like they’ve all decided to stay, trusting him and his words of promise, possibly backed up by their own personal experience with him. The questions has also subsided, losing its frequency and seriousness. Dust jokingly asking if he would cook tonight’s dinner has been pointedly ignored. It’s time to move on.

“This problem has been cleared, so all that’s left is Killer. He’s been sulking in his room for days. I want an explanation.”

A knock was heard from Killer’s door. He ignored it. If it’s important enough, Nightmare would have just traveled here via Killer’s emotions or the shadows. If it's Horror leaving his dinner in front of the door, Killer can grab it later. If it’s Dust, he would have just shouted whatever he needed. And if it’s Cross, he would have barged in soon after. So Killer didn’t pay much attention to the knocking, until he heard the voice from the other side.

“Killer? It’s me. Can we talk?”

How is Color here? Color doesn’t like Nightmare, and while Nightmare tolerates Killer hanging with Color now, he certainly doesn’t like Color either. Nightmare, and by extension the gang, lives in a protected world, its access blocked off except for the very few people Nightmare approved of. 

“Kills? I’m coming in, alright?”

Instead of answering the door, Killer sits still on the floor, back against the bed. Staring as the door opens revealing Color’s worried face. He’s clearly here for something, probably wants to talk about what happens. Killer doesn’t want to though, so he ignores Color and continues whittling away at the wood block in his hand. Color doesn’t seem to get the silent instruction to go away, instead he moves closer. He comes closer until he’s standing over Killer, before he moves to sit by the other end of the bed.

It was silent.

“... You’re right, back then I did just want another Sans to talk to.” Color broke the silence. It doesn’t seem like Killer is paying attention as he keeps whittling, but Color continues, “I was lonely, the void was lonely, and I wanted to talk to someone who can relate. That's when I met you and I keep coming back to you.”

Color takes a deep breath, “But when I came back and met you, you didn’t remember me. And it hurts. I lost you like I’ve lost my world. So I keep avoiding you, keep hoping you'd go away. But it ends up hurting you, I’m sorry Killer."

Color tries to look into Killer’s eyes, gauge his reaction to this apology. Hoping to see a glimpse of forgiveness, acceptance, anything. He just wants his friend back, the one he fought with. But Killer avoided his gaze, steadfastly looking down at his lap as he starts to talk.

“I remember when we used to hang out in my universe, you always tried to make me laugh, make me smile. I didn’t understand what you were doing with stage 1, I wanted to know. But whenever I came, you never even tried to talk to me . I didn’t know what I felt, but comparing how you interact with me makes me feel. Every time you stayed silent or just straight up left it felt like you were taunting me. I hated it.”

Finally giving into a desire for comfort, Killer leans sideways into Color’s shoulder. An arm wraps around him, and it feels nice, comforting, safe . Color slouched slightly to make Killer fit more comfortably. They’ve done this dozens of times, it’s ingrained in their subconscious. 

“I’m sorry I forgot you.”

“I’m sorry I ignored you.”

They stay together for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence.

It took a while before Color stood up and extended a hand, “It's late, I should get going. And so should you, Horror told me to make sure you join dinner.”

Killer took the hand, pulling himself up. But after, he didn’t let go, instead he held on tighter. “Stay for dinner?”

And with a relief smile, Color answers, “Sure”