Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s my fault.

The very first time it was said was like a knife directed at the ghost’s Soul. (The Soul he no longer truly had—only bits and pieces of, maybe.)

It’s my fault.

The second felt like multiple knives. One after the other.

It’s all MY FAULT.

No!

No no no no no

…Wisp? the Soul tethered to him echoed.

He didn’t realize he was repeating the same words aloud, over and over, until the human’s hand phased through his trembling body. He’d collapsed to his knees, on floor that wasn’t floor, The Void stretching around them. Why weren’t they trying to comfort his brother instead?

“no,” he gasped out, “no, no, no, no, no no no it’s not your fault it’s not, it’d never be your fault it’s not, it’s mine, it’s all MINE, i did this to you i—”

The human tried to touch him again, to no avail, and the ghostly skeleton continued to sob.

. . .

Heh.

Distantly, even he knew he was only dissociating.

Papyrus was gone, had been gone for minutes now, the battle over. The human would be waking up soon. See all their friends. They wouldn’t be lonely with him anymore.

They would leave, with everyone, and he’d be left. He wanted to be left.

He wanted this to end.

…

But Frisk took a seat next to him in The Void. Their legs crossed under them, folding their hands in their lap, the other child stayed.

They weren’t leaving.

Sans blinked, gaze tearing itself upwards in blind confusion. Through hazy tears, he looked at the human in confusion.

“Wisp,” they repeated, in Sign this time, but drew little air quotations before they signed the W and after they shaped the P. That’s what you told me to call you. When we met. Right?

…Slowly, the skeleton nodded.

“y— yeah,” he choked, voice watery.

Papyrus said your real name, I think, they went on.

With a bit less of a pause this time, he nodded again.

“y-yeah. yeah, he…” The littlebones sniffled rather loudly, messily smearing tears over his skull in an attempt to wipe them away. “he said— h-he, heh,” he chuckled wetly, “he’d always… i would, make puns with it sometimes and he, he’d g-get so riled up, s-say i need a new name, heheh…”

What is your real name?

He looked at them in bewilderment. Didn’t they just find it out?

I want you to introduce yourself properly, they added. So I can introduce myself proper.

…Right. He had yet to know their name, too.

“comic sans.”

He choked on it.

“m-my… my name is comic sans. sans for short.”

He wasn’t sure he liked that name anymore.

Maybe Papyrus didn’t like his anymore, either.

The human smiled.

My name’s Frisk.

…

That, somehow, seemed to fit them.

He talked about you a lot. Their hands moved meticulously. Like clockwork. Like they had taught him through their journey together. Even when he wasn’t…

…They trailed off, but they didn’t have to say it. He knew.

Despite his own self, Sans teared up even more.

He knew he had no right to ask them. He wasn’t meant to see Papyrus. He wasn’t meant to hear about him ever, ever again, and it was proved, when time passed in The Void for them but not for him. It disappeared in a flash, before he knew it’d gone.

…Once again.

Papyrus had slipped away from him, before he knew he was gone.

He had only heard some of the words through the human—Frisk’s Soul. And prior to that, it was taunts, threats; some coming out heavier, in a thicker voice than the plush dog obviously wanted. Some even sounded… Regretful. As though he said them, some part of him really didn’t want to.

It made sense now, of course. And Sans wondered why he hadn’t figured it out sooner.

He had heard everything Doggo said.

“it’s not his fault,” Sans choked. “i-it never was, h-he thought it was he said— he said i…”

…But of course he would think that. Wouldn’t he?

Sans hadn’t given him room to believe otherwise.

And he’d…

. . .

Oh.

Oh, no.

His eyelights flickered out, at the realization. It suddenly, just then, hit him.

…Sans? The human reached out. But they couldn’t touch him. Just like he couldn’t touch Papyrus. Are you alright?

“oh no, no no no no no,” he said rather to himself than anything, “no no i’ll never see him again.”

Frisk paused, and he didn’t given them time to respond when he started trembling.

“i’ll never see him again i’ll never get to tell him i didn’t mean it, i didn’t— he—” He clutched the sides of his skull desperately, as though to cling on to reality. His quivering fingers scrapped, scratched, clawed at the bone, unable to be controlled in his panic. “he left thinking i meant it he left thinking i hate him,” he just wanted him back, “i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry i’m sorry i didn’t mean that i promise i didn’t…”

Sans.

“i-i know, i know, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i’m…”

He…

.

.

.

His eyelights returned. Just barely there, unsteady, shivering in his eyesockets, cloudy and so, so dim, so so broken.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

…

A pair of arms wrapped around him.

…They… Weren’t the pair he truly wanted. Nowhere near as tight, as affectionate, as loving.

But they were gentle. And caring, all the same.

“You don’t hate him,” the voice, unused and rough, but soft and Determined, reassured. “…For what it’s worth, I think, somewhere, he knew that.”

. . .

After a moment. Sans hugged them back.

It felt odd. To hug again.

…But nice.

And comforting.

And…

He sniffled.

He felt more like a littlebones than ever, right then. He could no longer age, but he felt so much younger than he had, than even when he’d first woken up to first greet Frisk.

If life was fair, he’d have never had to think about this. If anything was fair…

…

If things were right.

They would be right back home.

Right now, Sans would be waking up in a bed that was his, but Papyrus would be there too; because even though they each had their own bed, they were never far apart from each other. And Papyrus would greet him with a bright good morning, and a good morning hug, and a good morning nuzzle, just for good measure. Papyrus had talked about wanting to make breakfast, once, instead of Asriel. Maybe he’d try today.

They could be kids. They might accidentally burn the house down, but that was just a kid thing. (Asriel would scold them for it, anyhow.) It’d be a part of it. And they’d be able to laugh again, and play again. They could be kids again.

They could be together, again.

…

Sans still felt like a kid. Even now.

He had never really grown up. And he’d forever be as he had been that day, now forever around. A phantom in shadows.

He couldn’t go back.

…And, he’d made it so neither could Papyrus.

Papyrus would never come back.

Sans couldn’t bring him back. No matter how he begged, cried, screamed to.

His best friend. His only brother.

His whole world.

He was gone.

…And Sans had to remain in a world without him.

The true him that he hadn’t hurt. That he’d protected, and held so, so close to his Soul.

.

.

.

He’d never truly get to say goodbye.

At last, he pulled away from Frisk, scrubbing roughly at his eyesockets. Swiping the pain away, at least physically.

“thanks,” he told them, because if nothing else, he could still thank them. He hadn’t made them leave, yet.

Frisk smiled.

Thank you, too, they signed. I’m glad I got to know you.

…

That was silly.

(They reminded him a lot of Papyrus.)

…Maybe, sort of, he smiled back. Who really knew? It was a permanent grin anyway…

The moment felt very bittersweet. And after a moment, Frisk’s smile fell.

…I’m sorry. About everything that happened.

“wasn’t your fault,” he countered.

They furrowed their brows.

It wasn’t yours, either.

. . .

Maybe, one day. He’d at least start to believe that.

I have to go now, I think. I’m sorry.

“why? for the sorry, i mean.”

I don’t want you to be alone.

Sans laughed, wearily.

“go,” he told them anyway. “i’ll be okay. they’re waiting for you.”

…Frisk just nodded, after a moment. He still wasn’t quite sure why they’d stayed so long to begin with. Sans wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

Thank you.

And he wasn’t sure why they signed that again.

With one last smile and a wave, they slipped into the darkness. Sans closed his eyesockets, to a different kind of darkness.

Maybe he’d see them again.

When he opened his sockets, he was back at the start. The golden flower room. His eyelights surveyed the bed of them, soft, and inviting.

He slumped down into them, onto his back, staring up at the stone ceiling above. Maybe he’d join the others later. Maybe not.

The Surface no longer seemed appealing.

Once more, he closed his eyes.

In his dreams, or, maybe not, someone joined him. They snuggled into his side, arms wrapping around him, as always.

Somewhere they talked, and laughed, and joked, and bickered. And they had never ever hated each other. And they were with each other through thick and thin, no matter what.

And they loved each other. No matter what.

In Sans’s dreams, he was right back home, again.

Chapter Text

The barrier is broken.

As everyone else heads out, a plush of a dog that once belonged to a child remains. It—or rather, he—sits on the first bed of golden flowers. Forgotten like the Ruins, and the rest of the very home everyone now leaves. He does not go with them.

And neither does the ghost that decides to keep him company.

It’s quiet, here. A bit too much so. A long time ago, in different circumstances, one of them would complain about the quiet. But right now, silence seems like the lesser evil to both of them.

Does Doggo—

…

Does his brother even know he’s here?

Might he hear him, if he tried to speak?

He couldn’t before. No matter how Papyrus had wailed after the fight. No matter how Sans had wailed, for him, wishing he could have brought his dear little brother into his arms and never, ever let him go again, not let him go like he had before, when he’d…

. . .

He had given up on him.

He didn’t mean it. He hadn’t meant it then. He was… Frustrated. And angry. Maybe even a bit at Pap, yes, but— But he hadn’t meant it. He hadn’t. He hadn’t! He had…

…

Had he?

But he would take it all back now. If he could just talk to him, again. If he could just…

He reaches out, but Doggo remains none the wiser. The small living plush is curled into a tight ball, not unlike a fetal position, ears drooping flat against his head. The pup’s eyes are dark, and hard to read; but, Sans knows what he’s thinking. He knows him.

it’s not your fault, it was never your fault, he wants to plead with him, so he can get it in his little sibling’s head, and forget the old words his own brother had said to him that day.

you’re not stupid, you were never stupid, he wants to sob.

i love you, i love you so much, i’m so sorry, i love you, he wants to scream.

…

But he is the one who put them both here. The reason his brother became a monster.

It’s on him.

It’s his fault. It always was.

He’s the idiot. He was always an idiot.

He loves him.

Sans has always loved him.

. . .

But he can’t bring him back from this.

And he betrayed him.

His only light in the world.

His precious brother.

He betrayed him.

He lost him.

He sacrificed him, for his own selfish idea. Papyrus had never asked for it. He would have been happy as they were.

They were. They were.

“and i fucked us up,” he chuckles, to no one but himself.

Doggo—Papyrus cannot hear him. He will never hear him again.

He will never know how much he loves him.

All he’ll remember are Sans’s words, seethed through scared, frenzied, furious, Hopeless, hurt teeth. Before Eternal Sleep claimed them. For a time, anyway. Until they came back.

It somehow makes sense, that even that wouldn’t have been their final fate. The Universe took one look at them, at him, and laughed. It wasn’t enough that he should lose his brother. It wasn’t enough to stay Asleep. Because the Universe took just one look at him, and knew it wasn’t enough, for he deserved to pay for his sins forever, long, long after the grave.

.

.

.

In the end…

All Sans wants to do, is…

Tell him he’s sorry.

Because that’s all he is now.

Just sorry.

He’s not scared. Or frustrated. Or hurt. Or mad.

He’s not mad.

Please, don’t think he’s mad at you anymore. Please, Papyrus. The faded skeleton cries out to no one that will observe, holding out his hand again for his brother, but it just phases through his paw. His brother continues to stare at nothing. Why does he not go with the others? Why does he stay?

Sans’s fingers curl back, and he reigns in his hand. He curls it back against his own chest.

He stays here because of him. Somehow, he already knows that much.

“i’m sorry.” It comes out a whisper. Not like it matters. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

If he could erase himself from existence right then, he would.

…

But…

Then again.

He doesn’t want Papyrus to be alone here.

He will stay too.

As though that much can somehow be heard, though it is only a thought,

Doggo lifts his head.

His unfocused eyes gaze back at Sans. And Sans’s breath hitches. Does he know he’s there?

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Could he?

But he looks through him, as though he does. At him.

…Then, he puts his head back down. Looking resigned, almost.

Wait, no no he is here, he is, he hasn’t left he would never leave again, “i’m here,” Sans chokes out, reaching for him a third time. “i-i promise, i’m right here, Papy, please… i’m sorry for leaving you. i love you. i’m sorry…”

He’s not mad anymore. He doesn’t hate him, even after all the horrible things they’ve both done.

He just wants him back.

His hand hovers over one of Doggo’s paws. Then he lets it fall over it. Trying to get through.

For a moment, he swears he can feel fur under his fingers.

…

And through his hazy, bleary vision, Sans sees… Something like recognition flash through his brother’s dark eyes.

He lifts his head, to look at him once more. A bit more sure he’s there, now.

“…I forgive you, Sans.”

And to the apparition’s utmost surprise, a pink tongue darts out of the plush’s mouth to lick the hand that hovers over his paw. It’s warm, and weird, and different (and a bit slimy) but familiar with a sort of affection that Sans only ever had remembered until now.

He can feel him. He understands. He knows he’s here now.

The ghostly skeleton’s eyes grow blurrier. He wipes at his sockets, to no avail; the tears keep coming.

But, for once, Sans freely laughs.

And Doggo’s tail freely wags in turn.