Archive of Our Own

It's completely silent in the castle. The only sound softly echoing throughout the castle were Dust’s footsteps. Tonight was not a good night, unable to get even the smallest bit of sleep. He felt so tired, but every time he closed his sockets all he could see was how he slaughtered his own world. He could feel his sins crawling on his back and he could hear his brother blame him for everything.

That's because everything IS your fault brother, you're not the victim.

Dust doesn't dare to look at papyrus, keeping his eyelights on the floor. His brother is right. Everything is his fault, his wrongdoings caused all of this. He killed them. But what was he supposed to do then, watching the kid kill everyone over and over? Do nothing? 

…

Of course paps is silent at that. There was no other solution. Dust did the right thing. He did it for everyone he loved. He did it so they didn't have to be slayed by the hands of that evil human. It was the smallest bit of mercy he could have given them. He made the right choice. He saved them from dying again and again. 

Dust doesn't like being in the castle for long without having anything to do. It forces him to think about his sins, making him spiral further into madness. He can feel his magic crackling along his bones, not having used it for almost an entire week. He hates this, his unused magic building up, making him more uncomfortable. 

And whose fault is that? You were careless last mission. They don't need you. How are you supposed to fight while injured?

Dust clutched his broken arm, the rest of his body still in pain. Nightmare forced him to rest and forbade him from training and doing too much. He was basically useless like this. He should've paid attention.

He's probably tricking you and thinking of ways on how to get rid of you.

No, no he wouldn't. Nightmare always makes sure to let his team recover. Everytime someone gets hurt, he heals them and forces them to rest. He wouldn't get rid of Dust because of his injuries. Otherwise he already would've done so in the past. 

Have you forgotten brother? Do you really think he'll keep you after your disrespectful behaviour this whole week?

Dust forgot about that. He has snapped and lashed out at Nightmare multiple times this week. It's been harder to stay in control of his emotions when his magic is all over the place. Yet still the guardian has not disposed of him. He healed and took care of him. Dust doesn't understand. He has been rude to not only Nightmare, but the rest of the team. 

You hurt them. They don't trust you anymore.

Dust’s magic started cracking, making pop sounds as he got more unstable. He didn't mean to hurt them. He cares about them.

But you still did, like always.

Dust started walking faster through the hallways. His room made him feel trapped, with the only voice to fill the silence being Papyrus. The more time he spent alone to heal from his injuries, the more cruel papyrus’s words got. He walks through the castle in hopes of Paps finally leaving him alone. But nothing could drown out his voice. It's what he deserves. 

He deserves to be tortured like this, for everything he has done and making the others have more work now that he is injured.

They're getting stronger by the day brother. Gaining exp, while you're here falling behind.

He can still catch up after healing. He can compensate for all the lost exp. 

They will be stronger than you. They're going to kill you.

No.. no, they would never do that. He's part of the team, right? He's been here for a long time. Dust could feel his phalanges digging into his skull, leaving new scratches on it. He tried to block out the sound of papyrus’s voice, not succeeding, and worsening everything. His brother's voice was loud, making his head throb in pain. He just wants to be at peace.

You need to listen to me! We need more exp and at this rate they'll either kill or replace you! I’m warning you because I care, sans..

He turned a sharp corner, opening the door in front of him which led to the kitchen. It was eerily silent and dark, the only glow coming from a few candles on the counter and walls. It was weird being in the kitchen all alone, since horror usually spends a lot of time here. Dust walks towards the cabinet where all of the alcohol is stored. Looking at all the bottles, reaching for the expensive whiskey he snatched on a mission in a mafia themed world. 

Brother, stop! You'll be off guard and useless if you drink that.

“ Sorry Paps, I promise I'll be good later, just let me have this one thing..” Dust tiredly muttered as he poured himself half a glass of whiskey. He spilled a little on the kitchen table, his hands shaking and trying to steady his breathing again.

They will be disappointed in you. Are you really going back to your old habits?

Dust got comfortable at the kitchen table, drinking his glass of whiskey rather quick, pouring another one right after. Alcohol helped with making him feel better. He can't spar, work, go outside, or do anything else. So why not drink? Nightmare didn't say anything about alcohol this time . Besides, alcohol is one of the only things that can fully drown out Papyrus. It makes him feel at peace and somewhat happy.

Dust remembers sometimes coping with alcohol after a dozen of resets, when he realised the kid wasn’t going to stop any time soon. After the human suddenly never came back, the habit stuck with him. There was no one and nothing to fill the silence, besides his dead brother. Papyrus was barely good company though, whispering lies and painful things to him. Alcohol gave him a few hours of temporary peace.

He had long quit drinking as a coping mechanism. When he first joined the gang, no one bothered stopping him and just let him do whatever he wished. So long as he didn’t make a mess. Back then it was just him, Killer and the boss. More evenings than not Murder would indulge himself with a bottle he picked up from some universe. The first one to notice was Killer. They weren’t close back then, since Murder was still new and preferred being on his own. He didn’t trust any of them, always on guard and fearing to be killed in his sleep. Killer spoke too much in Dust’s opinion, trying to get on his nerves or to get a reaction out of him. They used to fight a lot because of this, with it ending up really bad one time. Nightmare was fuming since both of them were unable to continue work and immediately put a stop to this behaviour. After that Killer learned to be less annoying. They even started to slowly tolerate each other, being able to talk normally. Killer was pretty good company.  

He remembers the first time when he and Killer spent time together without fighting. It was 5 years ago after healing up from their bad fight. Killer had found him drinking in the same spot in the kitchen. He was amused, immediately joining Dust grabbing the chair to sit next to him.

‘’Is this seat taken?”

Dust could see the cocky grin on his face, feeling a little on edge to be this close to Killer since their fight. He rolled his eyelights, and roughly mumbled out, ‘’Now why the fuck would it be taken?’’ 

That was the first time he and Killer had a conversation together. It was tense at first, but he ended up having a good time. And when Dust didn’t feel like talking, Killer didn’t push him. They got shitfaced, laughed, sat in silence and opened up a little bit about their past homes. It was nice and Dust hated to admit that. So he didn’t. 

After that, Killer started joining him more. They started having game nights, playing with cards or other things they found in the multiverse. Killer and Dust slowly grew closer over time, getting to know each other more and more. Murder had always thought Killer couldn’t feel anything, not even regretting killing his own world. But under that facade, he noticed something new within Killer. Sans Killer was still in there, somewhere deep inside his soul. 

Just as he noticed all these things about Killer, so did he about Dust. He found out about Papyrus’s ghost. And his genocidal world. And his drinking habits. Killer was always up for a good time, but he saw how much Dust was drinking. From then on some bottles started going missing sometimes. Killer would also start suggesting other activities to do instead of their usual drinking nights. Away from all the alcohol bottles at home. Dust was confused at first, not understanding. Killer was unstable, feeling barely anything most of the time. So why would he go out of his way to do all of this? Dust now understands why. Killer cared in his own way, but was struggling with the faint things he was feeling from time to time.

Everything changed when Horror was introduced 4 years ago. Murder doesn’t really like meeting new people. He doesn’t like people at all. Immediately put off by the new member, Dust avoided him. Horror’s intimidating appearance also not really helping his case. He looked really dangerous making Dust paranoid. Horror is tall and broad, his big red eye always staring everyone down like they are prey. Never would Murder suspect he’d grow a good bond with this giant monster.

He came across Horror a lot, since the monster likes to spend his time cooking or baking in the kitchen. He could’ve easily drank in his room, but he didn’t want to look weak in Horror's eye. Neither did he want to give up his usual spot. Dust thought Horror would mess with him or be annoying like Killer, but he was the complete opposite. The other skeleton was strange. He was silent and calm, sharing the kitchen in peace. Unless Killer was there to fill the silence talking to Horror, who replied sometimes. His voice was low and rough, exactly what he expected from a guy who looked like Horror. He spoke slowly, and the poor guy sometimes looked like he was struggling. 

Time passed and after a month of Horror joining, they still hadn’t talked. He got used to sharing the kitchen with Horror in silence, feeling more at ease with him around. Horror seemed pretty concerned with food and whether the others were eating. He noticed how the others skipped out on meals or only ate unhealthy foods. That’s why Horror suggested having breakfast and dinner together. Nightmare approved of this, thinking it was a good idea.

First, Murder dreaded the idea, but it ended up being not as bad as he expected. Everyone became closer to each other and it was the perfect opportunity to discuss new information or missions. This new closeness also meant that the others were less dismissive over his bad habits. Dust didn’t know how to feel about the odd stares or faces he got while drinking. Did they care? Or did they think his habit would get in the way of his work?

The first one to comment on his drinking was Horror. It was also the first time they had spoken since his arrival. They had been in the kitchen like usual, Horror baking and Dust having a drink. It was late in the evening, the whole castle dark and cold. Horror had been sneaking more glances towards Dust, who was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass and bottle of vodka. Murder got startled as he noticed Horror standing in front of him, studying his figure. 

“‘What?’’ Dust managed to spit out, feeling tense by this sudden change of routine. Horror was basically towering over him, making him feel small. Murder doesn’t like feeling small or weak.

Horror noticed his discomfort, grabbing a chair to sit down next to him and giving him more space. He seemed to be deep in thought, thinking of what to say back.

‘’Do you always.. drink so often?’’

Murder was confused by this question. He expected the other to suddenly take advantage of him, to judge him or worse. The way he asked it sounded weirdly concerned and Dust doesn’t know what to say back. Horror sighed as he took his silence as a confirmation, leaning back into the chair and tapping his phalanges on the table.

‘’It’s none of your business.’’ Dust said, staring the other monster down, daring him to continue his questioning. Horror frowned, but thankfully backed off. He got up to return to the stove, but suddenly stood still, turning back to Dust.

‘’Wanna bake something together?’’

Murder was taken aback, unsure whether this was a trap or genuine question. Horror wanted to bake with him? The last time he prepared something was with Papyrus, when he was still alive. He thought back to it fondly, his soul filling with sadness. He’ll never be able to experience that again. Papyrus always encouraged him to cook or eat anything but grillby’s. Why not try it out now, for Paps? Maybe he’ll be happy that Dust made something. Dust looked up at Horror, the other watching him patiently. He didn’t feel like answering, only standing up to join Horror and leaning on the kitchen counter.

This was the beginning of their friendship. Dust liked to be around Horror. After a year they were inseparable. He grew way more attached then he’d ever allow himself. Horror and the others helped him with getting rid of his problem. He was forever thankful to them. They helped by keeping him company and never judged when things went south. He lost count how many times he was carried to bed by nightmare. Or how Killer would be with him to watch movies while he was having a bad hangover. Or Horror, who would make him nutritious food and bring him water when he woke up sick. Because of them, he slowly and surely started drinking less.

Dust took a few more sips of his drink as he thought about the past. He felt guilt gnawing away at him as he poured another glass. Murder had been doing well, only drinking with the group on special occasions. Yet here he was, secretly drinking again. His other coping mechanisms didn’t work this time since he’s not allowed to go outside or spar. And because Dust was out of commission, the others had to pick up his slack. This meant that everyone was busy and exhausted. Sure, if he asked one of them for company or help, they would. But Dust couldn’t ask for help, not without feeling weak. 

He’s weak.

He’s useless.

And just so tired.

After his 6th glass he felt dazed, his magic buzzing throughout his whole body. Only now, he was finally able to ignore his itching magic. Dust rested his skull in his arms on the table, not caring about his broken arm right now. He almost fell asleep, but was awakened by a low voice calling out his name.

“‘Dust?’’

Dust opened his sockets and lifted his skull to find where the voice was coming from. He tried to look around, but everything around him was spinning. He groans as he tries to ground himself, holding his skull in his hands. He hears the chair next to him scratching the wooden floor as it was pulled from under the table. A warm body sits next to him, pulling him close. Dust was unaware of his surroundings, but felt comfortable with this sudden presence pressed next to him. Papyrus would never let him hear the end of this, Dust thought.

‘’Hey, y’ there? Look at me.’’

Dust turned to look next to him, but everything was blurry. He tried to focus his eyelights, finally seeing Horror sitting next to him. Dread filled his soul, feeling guilty for drinking again. Horror already had to work more because of him. Horror was the one who bandaged him up after Dust messed up in his mission. He has been so mean towards everyone, accidentally hurting Horror and Cross while unleashing his rage. And here he was, drinking. Making the other more worried and giving him more work.

‘’Hey no, no..’’ Horror pulled him in for a hug, holding Dust close and gently putting his hands on his skull and back. ‘’It’s okay.’’ 

‘’M’ sorry..’’ Murder hugged Horror back, his grip on him deadly, scared that he'd let go. He could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eye sockets.

‘’I know bun.’’ Horror sighed out, he looked at the bottle of whiskey on the table that was almost empty. He knew Dust was doing bad again, yet he didn’t keep a better eye on him. He heard a small sob leave Murder, tightening his grip on the smaller skeleton. ‘’It’s okay.’’

‘’I.. I hurt you. It’s not okay.’’

‘’You did, but i forgive you.’’

Dust looks at the shiny scar he left on Horror yesterday. It was long and slightly deep on the side of his skull. The scar was a deep red, reflecting Horror’s magic, which was trying hard to heal it. He hurt him. Dust hates himself for it. Horror should be mad. He should be lecturing him, telling him how he’s been a terrible person. Yet he doesn’t. And it makes him feel worse. All he does is hold him, rubbing his back and reassuring him. He doesn’t deserve this. 

Horror pulls back from the hug and for a second Dust believes he’s going to leave. Instead he grabs his hand, wiping his tears with the other. ‘’Is late. Let’s go ‘t bed.’’

Murder doesn’t even argue and tries to stand up, but trips over his own feet. Horror quickly pulls him up against his chest and carries him in his arms. He walks out of the kitchen through the dark candle lit hallways. They arrive in Horror’s room, which feels like no time passed by at all to Dust. Horror puts the other down on his bed, before climbing into it himself. He pulls the blanket over both of them and holds Dust close to him. 

Dust looks at Horror, who is now so much closer to him. His gaze rests on the scar again, guilt welling up in his soul. 

Why can’t he do anything right?

Why does he always hurt the people he loves?

“You need to stay away from me..’’ Dust says, overwhelmed by sadness. He needs to get away. He’ll only hurt them and he’ll never be fully healed. He will keep messing up, destroying everything and everyone in his way.

‘’No.’’

Horror rests his forehead against Dust’s, looking in his eyelights with concern and care. 

‘’I’ll hurt you again.’’

‘’No you won’t.’’

A tear falls down from Dust’s socket and he hides his face in Horror’s chest. He hates crying. He hates feeling weak and vulnerable. The alcohol makes him unable to keep his emotions controlled. Right now he is feeling everything that he’s tried to keep inside for the past week. It frustrates him how Horror doesn’t see him as a danger. 

‘’How do you know that?’’

Dust’s sockets widen as he hears the answer to his question, gripping his sharp phalanges on Horror’s shirt. ‘’Because i trust you.’’ More tears fall down from his sockets, his body slightly shaking. How could Horror trust him? He’s unpredictable, unstable, dangerous, a murderer and so much more. 

‘’How can you… Why.. I’m-’’

‘’I trust you.. with my soul. You’re amazing bun.’’ Horror softly tells him, dropping a sweet kiss on his forehead. He can feel Dust shivering against him, rubbing his hand on Dust’s back in a soothing motion. Dust tends to blame himself for everything, but forgets that he was a victim of unfortunate circumstances. Just like everyone else that lives in the castle. Horror wished he could tell Dust how much of a lovely person he is and so much more. Right now, it’d only make him feel worse. What Dust needs right now is sleep and company. 

And when Dust wakes up, Horror will be right by his side to hold and take care of him.