Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Little Whinging was never meant for magic.

Its prim gardens, perfect fences, and nosy neighbors were designed to ward off the unusual. A place where imagination was unwelcome and anything strange was promptly ignored or locked in a cupboard.

But Number Four, Privet Drive, had long since betrayed that illusion.

Because inside that very house lived a boy with too much magic, and no one to protect him from what came next.

Freak Harry was five years old when he died.

Or, at least, should have.

It had started as a family vacation.

A rare occasion where the Dursleys had 'graciously' decided to drag him along, if only to keep up appearances. This month destination? a chilly, snow-covered countryside near a mountain infamous among the locals. Whispers called it cursed. Children told stories about monsters in the dark.

Mt. Ebott.

The perfect place to dispose of a “problem,” Vernon had thought.

So, under the cover of night and the excuse of “Harry being lost in the snow,” they did it.

They threw him out.

No jacket. No food. Just a boy too thin, too cold, and too unwanted to matter.

Freak stumbled through the trees, numb in body and mind. His bare feet sank into snowdrifts, his fingers red and stiff. He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. There was no one left to listen.

A storm rolled in. Wind howled through the rocks. And he saw it, a cave, half-buried in ice and shadow. Shelter. Safety. Maybe.

He crawled inside, limbs trembling.

He didn’t fall into the pit.
Not yet.

Instead, he collapsed just inside the cave mouth, behind a wall of stone where the storm couldn’t reach. His too-thin shirt clung to his skin, soaked through with half-frozen sleet. He curled in on himself, trying to stay warm.

But it's no use isn't it? he was already dying.

The last sparks of accidental magic flickered weakly around him, desperate, confused. Flickering lights. A whisper of warmth. But his body had reached its limit. And so, as snow piled higher outside and the wind screamed through the peaks…

Harry Potter should've died.

Death however, for one such as him, was not the end.

In the moment his heart stopped, his magic woke up.

Not the clumsy, accidental surges he’d used to escape his cousin abuse. No. This was deep magic, the kind rooted in instinct, ancient as the world itself. The kind that refused to die quietly.

And somewhere beneath the mountain, beneath the earth, beneath the barriers of dimension, something noticed.

His magic flared blindly, screaming into the void.

It didn’t want to die.

It wouldn’t.

It reached. Grasped. Anchored itself to something ancient of this world.

Something hollow.

Something full of Dust.

Something once made by human, but no longer.

“A life for a life,” whispered the ancient rule. “A soul for a soul.”

There had been another child, one who fell, one who faded, one who left behind a vessel, empty and waiting. A soul, unclaimed. Cast off, but still burning with that same stubborn DETERMINATION.There had been a SOUL, a SOUL shard, one who mutilated themself, one who faded, one who left behind their vessel, empty and waiting. A soul, unclaimed. Cast off, but still burning with that same stubborn DETERMINATION.

Freak’s H̶̶a̶̶r̶̶r̶̶y̶̶'s magic, driven by the primal need to survive, did the impossible:

It took it.

What happened next was beyond the understanding of wizard or monster alike.

Very rarely, only whispered of in forbidden magical texts, there were sages so powerful, so full of raw potential, that death itself became optional. If their magic was strong enough… if their will to live was unbreakable… then their very essence could defy the boundaries of species, soul, and self.

They would not die.
Instead… they would change.

With a sound like the world itself cracking, the transformation began.

Bones formed where skin should have been.

His pain vanished, replaced by strange lightness.

No heartbeat. No blood. But he was alive.

Not human. Not anymore.

Magic had rewoven him into something else—

Something born of monsters, bound by a foreign soul, and held together by sheer, undying DETERMINATION.

The boy named Harry Potter was gone.

In the eyes of the wizarding world, he had died, his magical signature snuffed out, his core no longer human. The ancient magics that tied him to bloodlines and prophecies shivered once… and then went silent.

Unseen, unnoticed, several delicate plans set in motion by a certain meddling old goat unraveled on the spot. Threads pulled. Dominoes collapsed.

Somewhere, a phoenix cried out in alarm.

But in the mountain, none of that mattered.

What mattered was that he was alive.
Changed. But alive.

Chapter Text

Far below, in a snowy forest filled with laughter and warmth…

Two skeleton brothers looked up as a strange ripple passed through the air.

One of the skeleton paused, eye sockets narrowing.

“…huh,” he muttered. “that’s new.”

Sans and Papyrus of Snowdin Town were proud to say they were the only skeletal monsters living in the area. They were the first monsters you'd expect to be involved in anything strange, because, to the monsters of Snowdin, they often were the very definition of strange.

Papyrus aspired to join the Underground's Royal Guard, the elite force tasked with hunting humans who fell into the Underground and protecting King Asgore. He was a tall, thin-framed skeleton who almost always wore his long orange scarf wrapped proudly around his neck with his Gem, a star shaped Jasper, stitches on the end of it. Sans, on the other hand, was short and big-boned, usually seen wearing his signature blue jacket with false white fur, he have his Gem, a round shaped Sapphire, pinned on his jacket neck.

One fateful day, Sans was walking through the forest just outside of Snowdin. He had just reached the Doorway, the only known entrance to and from the Ruins, when he heard the sound of bones rattling. Cautiously, Sans peered through the archway and saw a small skeleton sitting beneath one of the few spots where natural sunlight streamed through.

Carefully making his voice as gentle as possible, Sans took a step forward.

“hey, easy... you okay? ‘cause, uh... tibia honest, you look a little rattled.”

A soft giggle escaped from the small skeleton, though they still seemed on edge. Slowly, they lifted their skull, the vibrant glow in their eye lights fading to small green pinpricks. A visible crack ran down the center of their forehead, as if they’d taken a nasty fall head-first.

“i’m not gonna hurt you. i promise.”

“P-pinky p-promise?” the skeleton asked in a small, shaky voice, still unmistakably male, as he cautiously held out his pinky.

Sans's eye sockets widened for a brief moment before returning to their usual lazy look. He stepped closer, extending his own pinky.

“...pinky promise.”

Sans gently hooked his pinky around the little skeleton’s.

It was such a small gesture, so simple, but the effect was immediate. The child relaxed, just a little. Not completely, but enough for Sans to breathe easier.

“there we go,” Sans said softly, crouching in front of him. “name’s sans. what’s yours, kiddo?”

The little skeleton hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed. He blinked, confused. “I... I-I don’t r-remember.”

Sans blinked. “huh. memory issues, huh? guess that explains the crack in your noggin.”

The kid nodded slowly, clearly frightened but trying to be brave. He looked down at his thin fingers. “I t-think I’m b-broken...”

“nah,” Sans said, standing up with a grunt and gently patting the child’s skull. “you’re just... a little scrambled. but hey, good news, we know someone real good at unscrewing scrambled circuits. how about we go see Alphys?”

The child hesitated again before nodding.

Hotland: Alphys’s Lab

The boy didn’t know what to think when he was suddenly transported from the snowy forest to an incredibly warm room. It looked kind of like a very big office… or—

He tensed, horror gripping his fragile little soul.

A lab.

The blue light that had carried him through the air vanished, lowering him gently into a rolling desk chair. His eyes, or eye, really; he still wasn’t used to that, were wide as saucers, darting around the room like a trapped animal.

“H-How?!” he gasped, awe-struck.

“magic,” Sans replied with a grin.

The moment the word left his mouth, the boy flinched. His eyes welled with tears, the sound of it triggering awful memories, memories of a red-faced, obese man screaming in his face until he was showered in spit, and a giraffe-like woman slapping him hard enough to make stars dance across his vision. Both of them always saying the same thing, over and over:

“Magic isn’t real!”

“Magic is evil!”

“Magic is wrong!”

“Only freaks believe in magic!”

“M-Magic isn’t real,” he whimpered, trembling. “I-It’s a b-bad word… it’s wrong… a-and e-evil…”

Sans’s expression didn’t change visibly, he was a skeleton, after all, but something in the air shifted. His grin vanished, and the lazy air around him turned cold and tense. The little boy squeaked in fear and pulled his legs up onto the chair, curling into himself.

He heard Sans take a long, steadying breath before the skeleton placed a gentle hand on his knee.

“it’s not a bad word, kiddo,” Sans said quietly. “and it’s not evil either. all monsters have magic. it’s just part of what we are.”

The boy blinked, confused. “M-Monsters? B-But… aren’t monsters supposed to be evil?”

Sans’s sockets narrowed slightly, and he snorted a humorless laugh.

“is that what humans think of us now?” he murmured to himself, voice dropping. “yikes…”

Then, with a slight shake of his head, he softened his tone. “eh, no bones about it, do I look evil to ya, kiddo? be honest. I can take it.”

The boy hesitated. Sans had scared him a little just now… but other than that, he had been kind. He didn’t scream at him. He didn’t hit him. He didn’t call him a freak. Even after seeing how strange and broken he looked, Sans still brought him here. Still smiled at him.

Biting his lip, the boy slowly shook his head.

That made Sans grin again. This time, it was soft and genuine.

“see? that’s at least one nice monster in the world.” He gave the boy’s knee a pat. “and you’re about to meet another one.”

The sudden sound of an elevator and the sliding of a door made the boy jump, his bones rattling slightly as he looked around in alarm. In the back of the room, a metal door had just opened, and a yellow dinosaur in a lab coat stepped out. Boy swallowed nervously and slid a bit lower in his chair, trying to make himself smaller and less noticeable.

At first, it seemed to work. The newcomer smiled at Sans, her nervous energy palpable even to him.

“Oh! T-there you are…” she said in a stammering voice. It sounded like a she, at least. “L-late again, Sans. B-but I-I guess it’s fine. We don’t have much to do anyway…”

“still stuck on your research, Alph's?” Sans asked, leaning lazily against the wall. “so the orange SOUL ain’t got enough DETERMINATION to do the job, huh?”

Alphys nodded, sighing. Then her eyes drifted toward the chair, and widened as she noticed the small skeleton crouching in it. She gasped.

“Oh my gosh… Is that—?”

“you look like the type that doesn’t just accept kindness, huh?” Sans said, turning back to Boy with a soft look.

Boy blushed, well, as much as a skeleton could, and ducked his skull behind his knees again, mumbling a weak apology. “S-sorry…”

“that’s fine, kiddo,” Sans chuckled. “that just gave me an idea. how about a trade? you help us, and we help you?”

Boy perked up at that, tilting his skull in cautious curiosity.

“L-like what?” he asked softly.

“a place to stay, food, company, and a nice warm bed,” Sans said gently. “and if you're okay with it, we'd like to run a few tests. nothing scary, and only if you're comfortable. you can still stay with me and my bro even if you say no.”

Tests. The word made him tense a little, but not in fear this time. More like cautious curiosity. It didn’t sound like the kind of 'tests' he was used to in his old life. Besides, a bed and food? That already sounded too good to be true.

“W-what kind of t-tests?” he asked hesitantly.

“nothing bad,” Sans reassured him. “remember that little heart that popped outta your chest when I used blue magic?”

Boy nodded slowly, eyes widening. So that was magic too?

“that’s your SOUL,” Sans said, holding out a hand. A softly glowing white, upside-down heart floated above his palm. “I’ve got one too. pretty boring color, though. yours is special. I've never seen a color like that. that usually means kindness… and sometimes, a whole lot more.”

Boy stared in wonder, watching as Sans let his SOUL drift back into his chest. It flickered once and then vanished beneath his ribcage.

“only humans have colored SOULs,” Sans continued. “but we haven’t seen a human in the underground in a long time.”

Boy looked down at his bony fingers. No skin, no flesh, no trace of who he used to be. Just smooth, pale bone. But they were calling him human. Monster, too.

“D-does that make me… b-bad?” he asked in a whisper.

“not at all, kid,” Sans said with a crooked smile. “chin up. you’re something new. special. one-of-a-kind.”

That word again, special. The opposite of the one he’d been told over and over. Freak. Abomination. Wrong.

Maybe… maybe this time, it meant something good? 

"Y-you mean… th-they're a-a hybrid!?" Alphys stuttered, voice squeaking as her glasses nearly slid off the tip of her snout.

"yup!" Sans said with his usual lazy grin, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. "but more of a human-turned-skeleton than a halfling, right, babybones?"

The boy blinked, startled by the affectionate nickname. His non-existent cheeks somehow felt warm, and a flustered look spread across his face. Babybones? That was new. But it didn’t sound mean or mocking, it sounded kind. Maybe it was a skeleton thing? He gave a small, sheepish smile and nodded again. If that was what he was now… a skeleton, then he’d do his best to be a good one.

Sans chuckled and reached out to ruffle the boy’s head. “heh. knew you’d come around, kid.”

"for now," Sans continued, voice softening, "you’ll stay here in the lab with Alphys, alright, kiddo? It’s safer than out there. monsters haven’t exactly forgotten about the war, and… well, if someone sees you like this, they might assume you’re still human underneath all that bone."

"O-okay," the boy mumbled, shrinking in on himself slightly. He didn’t want to cause trouble. He really didn’t want to make anyone upset. If staying in the lab kept him safe, and made Sans less worried, then he was fine with it.

Alphys stepped forward, fiddling with her fingers. "U-uh… Sans…? Sh-shouldn’t we, uh—"

Sans’s grin dropped instantly.

The soft blue glow in his eye sockets vanished, leaving only shadowy hollows.

Alphys flinched. The boy gasped, backing up instinctively.

“Don’t tell Asgore about the kid,” Sans said, voice dangerously low. The command was absolute, with no room for argument.

"O-of course not!" Alphys squeaked, tail curling behind her. "I-I w-wouldn't d-dare! I-I won’t, Sans, I p-promise!"

The moment passed. Slowly, the lights returned to Sans’s sockets, and the heavy pressure in the room lifted. His expression returned to something more casual.

"good," he muttered before turning to the boy again.

"how about you go explore the place a little while Alphys and I fix up a room for you, deal?"

The boy nodded frantically and hopped off the chair. Sans was funny… but he was really scary when he wanted to be. The moment the coast was clear, he scurried out into the hall, eyes wide as he took in the blinking lights and humming machines of the lab.

Alphys watched him go, then turned to Sans. “He’s… he’s really just a kid,” she said softly.

“yup,” Sans replied, leaning against the nearest wall. “but he’s been through hell. you can see it.”

Alphys nodded solemnly. Then, with a shaky breath, she straightened her lab coat and quickly started scribbling in her clipboard.

“I-I’ll get the guest room down the west wing set up,” she said. “It’s a bit dusty, b-but I can clear it out, and maybe I can scrounge up a bed from the storage unit… maybe add a charging pad just in case he uses magical energy faster than average…”

Sans raised an eye ridge. “charging pad?”

“I-it’s standard for artificial monsters,” Alphys mumbled quickly. “B-but, uh, never mind! Just a backup.”

As they walked down the hallway together, Alphys glanced up at him. “S-so… um… what’s his name?”

“…don’t know yet,” Sans admitted. “he hasn’t told me. I don’t even think he knows anymore.”

Alphys’s ears drooped. “That’s… that’s really sad…”

“yeah,” Sans said quietly. “but we’ll fix it. one step at a time.”

Chapter Text

The boy stayed with Alphys in her lab for two weeks, tucked away in the quiet corners of the Underground where few dared to tread. Sans visited every single day without fail, sometimes through a shortcut, sometimes with a lazy stroll and a cheesy grin. Each visit, he brought something different: a story, a snack, or just a quiet presence.

They spent most of their time talking. Or rather, Sans talked while the boy listened, wide-eyed and fascinated. Sans explained how the Underground worked: how monsters lived, the importance of magic, the properties of SOULs, and the weird physics that made waterfalls float sideways. Every so often, Alphys chimed in with enthusiastic science facts, though she often veered into overly technical jargon that left the boy blinking in confusion.

They tried asking about his past, hoping to spark some memory. But the boy didn’t remember anything. Not his name, not where he came from, nothing. All that remained were the scars in his magic and the haunting hints of pain that flickered across his expression when certain topics came up.

The tattle-tale signs of abuse were clear as day, even if he didn’t speak of them. The way he flinched at sudden movement. How he curled protectively into himself when voices rose. The deep, aching fear that sat in his sockets like a permanent shadow.

It was enough to make even Sans, who usually kept things light, go quiet for a long while.

After a few failed attempts at asking gently, Sans gave up on the topic. Instead, he did what he did best: told terrible jokes.

At first, the boy stared at him blankly. Then a chuckle. Then a snort. And eventually, full-blown giggles that echoed around the lab like little bells of joy.

Soon enough, the boy began to cling to the skeleton, literally and emotionally. He followed Sans with wide, curious sockets, sometimes clutching the hem of his coat when nervous. Maybe it was because he noticed how similar they looked now. No trace of humanity remained physically, yet Sans never treated him like a monster. Never looked at him with pity. Just warmth, and a terrible sense of humor.

Even though Sans had scared him at first, the boy found he felt safest when the skeleton was nearby.

“ready to go in, babybones?” Sans asked one morning, laying a heavy phalange on the boy’s narrow shoulder.

The boy flinched slightly, then nodded. He was wearing a purple shirt with two bright green stripes across the chest, something Alphys had stitched together for him with loving hands and clumsy needlework. It was a bit big, but it made him feel normal. Warm. Covered.

Today was important.

It was the day Alphys would run tests on his SOUL, hoping to study its structure and, if possible, harvest a fragment of Determination for her research on creating stable artificial SOULs. The boy didn’t understand most of it. He only knew what Sans told him: it wouldn’t hurt. He’d lie down in a machine, and it would gently pull his SOUL out, kind of like when Sans used his blue magic on him. It might tickle a little, that was all.

The boy swallowed hard and nodded again.

“you’re a brave kid, ya know that?” Sans said with an approving grin.

The boy beamed, shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“I’d say you’ve got guts,” Sans added, eyes twinkling with mischief, “but… well, you don’t have those anymore, huh? heh.”

The boy burst into laughter, soft and bubbly, and reached out to grab Sans’s phalange.

He held on tightly as they walked deeper into the lab, through hidden doors and sterile hallways lit with buzzing fluorescent lights. Alphys was already waiting for them down below, nervously checking readouts and muttering under her breath.

They called this place the True Lab, and it felt colder than anywhere else in the Underground. The boy’s sockets widened when he saw the machine in the center of the room, a huge, glass-and-metal chamber with tubes and wires twisting like vines across the ceiling. The words “Determination Extractor” were scrawled on a dusty control panel in Alphys’s handwriting.

He didn’t know what “Extractor” meant, but it sounded scary.

He stopped, his hand tightening on Sans’s.

Sans crouched beside him again, voice soft and steady. “hey. I’ll be right here the whole time, okay? just like always. Alphys is gonna take care of everything, you just lie down and let the machine do its thing. if anything feels weird, just tell us, and we’ll stop.”

The boy hesitated, glancing at the machine… then back at Sans.

And after a moment, he gave a small, brave nod.

As they entered the room with the big, intimidating machine, Sans floated Boy forward with his blue magic, carefully lowering him into the center platform. The strange hum of the equipment made the boy tense up, bones rattling softly as he looked around the sterile room. Sans gently strapped him in with Alphys’s help, keeping his movements slow and careful so as not to startle him.

The boy bit his lip, well, where lips used to be, and looked up at Sans with two softly glowing eye lights.

But the glow wasn’t white or blue or gold.

It was green.

Sans froze.

His grin faltered for a split second as he stared at those bright, luminous green eyes. He hadn’t expected that. A gradient SOUL didn’t usually mean green magic. Green was the color of Kindness. But maybe… maybe that made sense, in a way. The kid had been through who knows what and still had so much kindness left in him that it shone through his magic.

“whoa,” Sans murmured, placing a bony hand gently against the side of Boy’s skull. “you alright, kiddo?”

“’m s-scared…” Boy whispered, his voice thin and shaky.

Sans knelt down beside the machine, his eyelights softening. “it’ll be alright, babybones,” he said gently. “i’ll be right here, and if you want to stop, just say the word.”

Boy nodded hesitantly. Something about Sans’s presence made it easier to breathe, or it would have, if he had lungs. He relaxed, just a little, trusting the older skeleton completely. Deep down, he felt it: if he said “stop,” Sans would stop it all.

He wasn’t a test subject here.

He was family.

“A-alright! W-we’re starting…!” Alphys called nervously from behind the glass barrier, her hands trembling slightly on the control panel.

Boy closed his eyes and held what would’ve been a breath. The machine’s top slid into place with a heavy thunk, encasing him in a smooth metal dome. It rumbled, lights blinking, then hummed louder as the process began.

A sharp jolt.

A twisting pull.

His SOUL tore from his body with a stabbing pain that made the void behind his eyes flare. For a split second, it hovered above his chest, flickering pink and bright. Then—

Nothing.

Sans didn’t like to admit it, but he was scared. Really scared.

The kid’s SOUL was strong, stronger than he’d expected. He felt it every time he was near. It had a warmth, a pull to it. Even now, while it floated inside the containment field, it pulsed with a deep, steady rhythm. There was no doubt about it: it was made of Love.

Not LOVE, the kind that caused pain.

But real Love. The kind that protected. That endured.

It was rare in humans.

It was rarer still in monsters.

But this kid… this skeleton, born from the remains of a human boy… he carried it like a beacon.

“His SOUL’s stabilizing,” Alphys said, her voice cracking through the intercom. “It- it’s really strange… The readings are weird, but not bad! I think he’s going to be okay!”

Sans didn’t respond.

His eye lights were locked on the pink SOUL, watching every flicker.

He knew power when he saw it. And this wasn’t just power, it was potential. Not in the way people talked about power in war or battle, but something bigger.

"He has strangely high amounts of Determination for someone without a Determined SOUL," Alphys murmured, staring hard at the readings in front of her.

Sans frowned, as much as a permanently grinning skeleton could, and leaned closer to the monitor. The data spiking across the screen didn’t make sense. The Determination levels were off the charts, but the kid didn’t have a red SOUL. That alone was concerning.

"run another scan," he ordered, his usual laid-back tone replaced by something colder, tighter.

Alphys blinked at him, startled, but quickly nodded and typed the command. The machine hummed to life again, lights flashing as it re-scanned the little skeleton boy resting in the core chamber.

Then, it happened.

The screen glitched briefly before stabilizing, this time displaying a far more disturbing result.

Alphys gasped. "S-Sans!"

The skeleton’s sockets widened. The readings were impossible.

There weren’t just one… or two… but three SOUL signatures inside the kid.

"what the hell did they do to you, babybones…?" Sans whispered, eyes fixed on the monitor. His voice was low, unsettled. Not angry, just… shaken.

The primary SOUL was a normal white Monster SOUL, but with faint green accent, glowing with strength and clarity. Kindness. That was his. That was the SOUL they knew.

But surrounding it, it pulsed two faint, unstable fragments. Ghosts tethered by a thread, barely there, yet very real.

One pulsed in a warped red-violet glow, flickering between shades of crimson and something darker. Sinister. Thankfully it's only the remains of a SOUL part.

The other… pink, but dim, like the last glimmer of a sunset before it vanished over the horizon. Protective. Fading, but still strong.

"this ain’t normal," Sans muttered. "these things aren’t fused. they’re just… stuck. like they’re hitchhiking."

"B-but shifters aren’t supposed to do that!" Alphys exclaimed. "Even if he absorbed something during transformation, SOULs don’t just stick like that!"

"Unless something was already there before," Sans replied darkly. He gestured to the red-violet fragment, his sockets narrowing. "Pull that one’s data first."

Alphys swallowed and began typing. The machine brought up the fragmented signature with a soft beep.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Tom Riddle Jr.

1/7
ATK: ?
DEF: ?

*Ensured his immortality.——————————————————————————————————————————

"…that doesn’t look good…" Sans muttered, his tone dry.

"D-do you think this human—"

"—stashed a piece of his SOUL inside the kid? yeah," Sans growled. "that’s exactly what I’m thinking."

He stared at the data for a moment longer, then sighed. "still, it’s a real DETERMINED SOUL, even if it's only a remains. maybe that’s how he survived long enough to latched on. it might be the only reason he made it."

"S-so… you want to g-get it out?" Alphys asked hesitantly.

"we’ll ask the kid first," Sans said. His voice softened, just slightly. "he deserves to choose. but yeah, that thing’s gotta go eventually."

"R-right…"

"now," Sans continued, "let’s check the other one. the… protective presence."

Alphys nodded quickly, fingers flying across the keys again. The red-violet SOUL vanished from the screen and was replaced by the pulsing pink shimmer.

The readings immediately calmed. The strange SOUL wasn’t attacking the host’s own, it was shielding it. Holding the corrupted fragment back, as if trying to suppress it.

——————————————————————————————————————————

L ily Potter

ATK: 0
DEF: ?

*A mother’s Love never dies.——————————————————————————————————————————

"I-I think… that one is p-protecting him," Alphys mumbled, voice trembling slightly.

"yeah…" Sans said quietly, his gaze softening. "looks like it."

It all made a horrible kind of sense now. The boy had died with a soul fragment inside him, someone else’s twisted will, and another SOUL had stepped in to shield him. Not fused, not stolen. Just… watching over him.

A mother’s love. Even beyond death.

“…let’s get the kid out for now,” Sans said, stepping toward the machine’s release switch. “he’s got a right to know. he’s got a right to choose.”

Alphys nodded. The screen dimmed as the machine powered down, the capsule slowly opening with a hiss.

Sans reached out and gently scoop him up, cradling the small form close. "you did good babybones." He murmured. "real good."

He just hope the information won't break the kid.

Chapter Text

When the boy next woke up, the world around him was soft and still.

He was lying in his bed again, the one Alphys had set up for him in the spare room at the top of the lab. A familiar, comforting scent lingered in the air: dust, warm cloth, faint ozone from machinery, and something like fried hot dogs, probably left over from Sans’s last snack run.

Next to him, Sans sat in a worn-out chair pulled close to the bedside. The skeleton was slouched in his usual lazy posture, hands tucked into the pockets of his lab coat, skull tilted forward, chin resting lightly against his sternum. His eyes were closed… and he was softly snoring.

The boy blinked at him, puzzled, again.

He still didn’t understand how Sans could sleep. Or how he closed his eyes. Weren’t eyelids made of skin? And yet Sans could blink, squint, snore… just like a person. And he could do it too.

Were his own eyelids bone now? If he touched them, they didn’t feel like skin. He didn’t have skin. He was all bone. But somehow… it worked. Magic was weird.

He studied Sans a little longer. His tall, lanky brother was probably exhausted. Sans had stayed with him almost the whole time these past few days, only leaving when Alphys practically dragged him out to shower and eat something. He didn’t have to. But he did.

The boy smiled a little to himself. Maybe… maybe he could do something nice for him.

Maybe he could make him breakfast…

The boy glanced toward the door. He could sneak out quietly. The last time he cooked, Sans had seemed surprised and really happy. Even complimented his scrambled eggs, said they were better than Grillby’s. That meant something, didn’t it?

And Alphys didn’t eat healthy, not really. She drank way too much soda and lived on instant noodles and fried stuff. The boy had started tidying up the kitchen and upper floors to keep things from getting too gross. They never asked him to do it, but they also never told him to stop. And every time, someone said, “Thanks, dear,” or “nice work, babybones.”

That made him feel… useful.

He liked feeling useful.

Quietly, the boy pushed aside the covers and slid out of bed. His bony feet touched the cold floor without a sound. He tiptoed to the door, carefully avoiding the creaky floorboard near the chair, and reached for the handle.

"where are you going, kiddo?"

The boy froze.

He turned around slowly. Sans hadn’t moved. He was still slouched in the chair, head down, hands in his hoodie pockets.

But now one eye was open, glowing faintly blue, intense and unreadable.

The boy flushed, his hands curling awkwardly in front of him. “I-I wanted to m-make you b-breakfast…” he mumbled, looking down at his skeletal toes.

Sans snorted, the faintest grin curling on his face. “that’s real sweet of you, babybones,” he said softly. “but that can wait.”

He shifted, straightening up in the chair with a creak. “figured you and I could have a little chat first. deal?”

The boy hesitated, then gave a small nod. He shuffled back over to the bed and sat on the edge, folding his hands in his lap. Suddenly, his bones felt too heavy, his ribs too tight.

What if the tests didn’t work?

What if he wasn’t useful anymore?

What if they were going to send him away?

Sans was quiet for a few moments. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked directly at him. His expression was serious, but not unkind.

“I ain’t mad, kiddo,” he said gently, as if he could read Boy’s mind. “you did good. real good. but we found somethin’ inside you. a couple things, actually.”

The boy stiffened.

“D-did I mess up?” he whispered, barely audible. “A-am I broken?”

Sans’s expression softened instantly. “no, no. far from it.” He leaned forward a little more, resting a bony hand on Boy’s shoulder. “but I do need to tell you what we found. and you gotta promise me you’ll listen before jumpin’ to any conclusions, alright?”

Boy hesitated, then gave a tiny nod.

“good.” Sans gave his shoulder a squeeze and sat back. “there’s somethin’ in you that doesn’t belong. a piece of someone else’s SOUL, someone bad. real bad. Alphys and I think it was put in you a long time ago, maybe when you were still human.”

The boy looked down at his lap, shoulders trembling. “Is… is that why I’m l-like this?”

Sans was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “we think that remains soul fragment, that… parasite, messed with your body when it was breakin’ down. needed a big jolt of magic to keep you together. so when you ended up here… and got caught in that blast of monster magic…”

He trailed off.

“you changed. Into what you are now. A monster. our little babybones.”

Boy swallowed hard. “So… it’s h-his fault?”

“partly. but not all. you also had someone else in there. another SOUL. one that’s been protectin’ you this whole time.”

Boy blinked, looking up at him. “Who?”

Sans smiled, not with humor but with something gentler. “your mom, kid. her SOUL’s still hangin’ on. not like a ghost, but… like a shield. protectin’ you from the other one.”

Boy’s breath caught. “M-mama?”

“yeah. strong SOUL. big heart. no doubt where you get it from.”

Boy was silent, shaking slightly. Then he looked up, a spark of determination in his bright green eye sockets.

“W-what… what happens n-now?”

“well,” Sans said, folding his arms, “that’s up to you. we can try to get the bad SOUL fragment out. won’t be easy. might hurt. but you get the final say. this is your body. your SOUL.”

Boy nodded slowly. He was scared. But he wasn’t alone.

He had Sans. Alphys. Papyrus. A home. People who cared.

“…Oka-ay,” he said quietly. “I’ll do it.”

“atta boy,” Sans said with a grin, ruffling the top of his skull.

"it's just something I'm worried about. I think it might be something that's hurting you…”

Boy’s head shot up, his glowing green eye sockets wide with disbelief.

“Y-you… you’re worried ab-bout me?” he asked in a soft, trembling whisper.

“sure do, babybones,” Sans said with a small, gentle grin, the kind Boy had thought Sans only reserved for when he talked about his brother. “you know, I was actually thinkin’… after all this mess is over, we could make it official. my bro and I could adopt ya. give you a real home.”

Boy blinked slowly, staring at Sans as if the words didn’t quite make sense, like he was sure he must’ve misheard him. Adopt him? A real home?

He repeated the words in his head over and over, searching for a hidden meaning. When he found none, no cruel trick, no unspoken condition, he let out a broken sob and flung himself into Sans’s arms, clutching at the soft fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing anchoring him in the world.

“Y-you mean it? R-really?” he whispered, his voice wet with tears but filled with fragile hope.

“wouldn’t lie to ya, kiddo,” Sans said with a quiet chuckle, hugging him close. “not about something like this.”

He rested his chin lightly on Boy’s skull (they really needed to find a nice name for him), one hand gently rubbing soothing circles over the little skeleton’s spine. Boy felt so small in his arms, small, scared, and so desperately in need of someone to hold onto.

“you know what I think?” Sans murmured. “I think your folks died protecting ya from something real dangerous.”

Boy hiccupped, tears still falling, and nuzzled further into the curve of Sans’s chest. The thought sent a pang through him, his parents… died for him? What could possibly be so dangerous that it would warrant that kind of sacrifice?

Why would someone want a little boy like him dead?

But he didn’t ask. He couldn’t find the words, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer just yet.

“listen, babybones,” Sans said quietly, his tone low and serious now, “I don’t usually make promises. it’s not my style. but I’ll make an exception for you.”

Boy looked up, eyes shining through the haze of tears.

“I promise you this,” Sans said, blue eye flashing, voice cold in a way that made even the shadows in the room shudder. “if we ever make it to the surface, if we get the chance, I’ll track this Tom Riddle guy down and give him a real bad time.”

Boy didn’t know who Tom Riddle was. Not yet. But he knew one thing, if Sans said he was bad, then he was. And if he had hurt Boy and his family, then he deserved whatever was coming for him.

The boy nodded silently, clutching Sans tighter as he whispered, “Thank you.”

He didn’t understand why they wanted him. Why Sans and Papyrus were so kind. But for the first time in a very, very long time… he believed he was safe.

And if this was what having a family felt like, then he never wanted to let go.

“all right, looks good, kid,” Sans said, patting the top of Boy’s skull with a gentle clack.

It had been almost a full month since Boy had started living in the lab.

“I-Is my SOUL g-good now?” he asked, voice tight with nervousness.

Sans chuckled and lifted his hand, revealing a pale, nearly white upside-down heart floating above his palm. Boy’s eyes lit up instantly. His SOUL looked almost identical to Sans’s now, soft, muted in color, unreadable to prying eyes. If Boy still had lips, he would’ve been grinning ear to ear. But with his ever-present skeletal grin, the only visible change was the way the tiny white lights in his sockets shimmered brightly, dancing with excitement.

A week earlier, Sans and Alphys had successfully extracted the shard of the foreign human SOUL that had been fused with his own. Boy had finally learned what extracted meant, it sounded scary, but it hadn’t hurt much. That lingering piece of human magic would now be used to help save monsters who had “fallen down,” though neither Sans nor Alphys had explained what that phrase meant. The way they’d said it made him think it wasn’t something nice.

Now, with the shard gone and his SOUL's true nature hidden, Sans had declared it safe.

“D-does that m-mean I can leave with you n-now?” Boy asked, voice tinged with hope.

“sure does,” Sans replied warmly. “go say goodbye to Alphys and pack up your stuff.”

Boy lit up like a firework. “Okay!”

He hopped off the examination table, his small frame landing with a quiet clack against the lab’s tiled floor. He liked Alphys, she was awkward but kind, and she'd given him puzzles and cartoons and let him help organize data once, but the lab was… creepy. Too many blinking lights and strange machines. And Hotland? He absolutely hated the heat. The constant blazing warmth made his bones feel like they were warping.

Which made sense, he supposed. After all, he’d frozen to death once. That sort of thing probably had side effects. He liked it cold now. Chilly rooms, icy air, snowflakes, that was home.

The room Alphys had let him use wasn’t much, barely larger than a supply closet, with a thin bed, a tiny desk, and a coat hanger, but even that was still better than the dusty old cupboard he vaguely remembered living in. And unlike back then, the people here gave him toys, let him read books, and even picked out new clothes just for him.

“and put on something warm!” Sans called after him as Boy darted toward his room.

“Okay!” he shouted back cheerfully, already grabbing the soft purple hoodie Sans had chosen for him on a recent trip to Snowdin. It still smelled faintly like cinnamon and scarf wool.

As he gathered his few belongings, a drawing Alphys had hung on the wall, a crumpled book on monster history, a cracked toy bone from a puzzle game, they didn’t feel small or worthless. They felt like his. And this time, he wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed or alone.

He’d be leaving with a family.

And this time, he’d be going home.

Chapter Text

Boy stared up at the small house in front of him, his fingers tightening around Sans's hand.

They were in the outskirts of the Capital now, far away from the harsh heat of Hotland. Sans had explained that the city was a little overcrowded, especially closer to the Core, so they had settled in a quieter neighborhood. It wasn’t fancy. The house was a squat little thing, only one story tall, with snow clinging to its eaves and warm yellow light spilling from behind frosted windows. But Sans had smiled when he talked about it.

It was home. Their home.

Boy, no, not quite a boy anymore, not quite a human either, shuffled nervously beside him. He hoped he wouldn’t be too much of a burden.

“stop overthinking, kid,” Sans said with a knowing smirk, giving his bony hand a reassuring squeeze. “you’ll give yourself splinters in your thoughts.”

“B-but what i-if I just g-get in your w-way…” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

“heh. that’s what brothers are supposed to do, babybones,” Sans chuckled, eyes crinkling with warmth.

Boy flushed a little and looked away, his cheekbones somehow managing a subtle blush. Sans had been so kind to him these past few weeks, gentle, patient, and funny in a way that made the world feel a little less scary. It still surprised him, even now, that Sans wanted to be his brother. He could only hope the other one, Papyrus, would be just as kind.

“let’s go in and meet Papy, alright?” Sans suggested.

Boy nodded quickly, gripping Sans's hand a bit tighter. His sockets widened with nervousness, but he didn’t pull away. He was scared, scared that Papyrus wouldn’t like him. That he’d mess up and get sent away again. That maybe, this dream would end.

Sans chuckled under his breath and opened the door.

“yo, bro!” he called as they stepped inside, the scent of spaghetti and wood polish hitting them immediately. “I brought the kid! come meet him, Pap!”

The warmth inside the house was soft and gentle, nothing like Hotland’s suffocating heat. It smelled like food and faintly of cinnamon-scented detergent. The interior was simple: a cozy couch, a few pictures on the walls (one of which was clearly drawn in crayon), and a small tree in a pot that had googly eyes stuck to it.

From the kitchen, a tall figure emerged, and Boy froze.

Papyrus was huge. He towered over Sans, at least twice his height, with bright orange mittens and an oversized turtleneck sweater tucked into his jeans. His posture was regal, his movements precise, and his skull practically gleamed with polished pride.

Boy shrank back, ducking behind Sans’s fluffy jacket like a shy ghost.

Sans laughed at the way Papyrus's expression faltered, surprise flickering across his face. Not that their skulls moved much, but even monsters had ways of showing their emotions.

“c’mon, babybones. go say hi to your now big bro,” Sans coaxed gently.

Boy hesitated. He took a deep breath, then peeked out from behind Sans’s side, staring up with nervous glowing eyes.

“…H-hi… P-Papyrus,” he whispered.

Papyrus blinked. And then, unexpectedly, a blush appeared on his cheekbones, a warm orange hue spreading faintly.

“NYEH HEH HEH! YOU ARE SO ADORABLE!” Papyrus shouted, his voice exploding with enthusiasm, making the small monster jump.

“WORRY NOT, LITTLE BROTHER! YOUR NEW BIG BROTHER SHALL NEVER HURT YOU!”

Boy blinked, caught off guard by the dramatic declaration.

He frowned faintly, lowering his gaze. “…I’m sorry. I… I still don’t remember my name,” he mumbled.

Sans sighed softly. “oh, babybones…”

“he still doesn’t have any memories from before,” Sans explained gently. “not even his name.”

“WELL THAT WON’T DO AT ALL!” Papyrus tuttet, striking a dramatic pose. “WORRY NOT, LITTLE BROTHER! YOUR BIG BROTHERS SHALL BESTOW UPON YOU A NAME WORTHY OF COOLNESS!”

He crouched down slightly to meet the smaller monster’s eye level. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS, SMALL ONE?”

“U-um…” The kid, nameless and trembling with hope, fiddled with his bony fingers. “T-then I… I wanna have a name like yours… I-if that's o-okay?”

“THEN YOU SHALL!” Papyrus exclaimed proudly. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL THINK OF THE MOST BRILLIANT, COOLEST, MOST BONE-CHILLING NAME FOR YOU!”

Sans snorted and pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “told ya he’d want one like yours. good thing we came prepared.”

He began reading off the list. “Arial? Poppins? Glacial? Harrington? Roman” 

The kid tilted his head, unimpressed with most of them.

Sans grinned. “Avallon?”

Immediately, the kid’s hand gripped Sans’s arm tightly.

“I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, APPROVE OF THIS NAME!” Papyrus bellowed, striking another dramatic stance. “AVALLON! IT IS MYSTERIOUS! IT IS COOL! IT IS ADORABLE!”

The small monster—Avallon—blushed again. “I-I like it too… C-can I be called that?”

“WELCOME TO THE FAMILY, NEW LITTLE BROTHER AVALLON!” Papyrus cheered, throwing confetti he seemed to have pulled from somewhere.

Avallon’s sockets went wide. “F-family? Little brother…?” he echoed, voice trembling with disbelief. His eye lights shimmered. He hadn’t dared to hope. Not really.

“yup,” Sans said softly, ruffling his skull with a fond grin. “you’re one of us now, kiddo.”

He winked. “we’re all attached at the hipbone now.”

“THAT WAS TERRIBLE, SANS!”

With a sudden sob, Avallon launched himself at Sans, knocking them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs and soft laughter.

“Thank you!” Avallon cried, burying his face in Sans’s ketchup-stained hoodie. “Thank you!”

Sans chuckled, cradling the small skeleton close, one arm wrapping securely around him.

He made a lazy gesture with his free hand. “c’mere, Pap. group hug time.”

“NYEH HEH HEH! LET US HAVE A SLEEPOVER IN MY ROOM TONIGHT TO CELEBRATE!” Papyrus exclaimed, practically leaping from the couch to sprawl beside them in a dramatic flail of limbs and scarves.

That night, the house in the outskirts of the capital buzzed with a quiet, joyful energy. The small bedroom that Papyrus proudly declared his own was now filled with an unusual collection of bedding, Papyrus’s perfectly folded blanket stack, Sans’s haphazard pillow pile, and the cozy little nest Sans had helped Avallon put together with fuzzy socks, warm sweaters, and a couple of plushies Alphys had given him as parting gifts.

Avallon sat in the middle of the room, still wrapped in a soft blue hoodie two sizes too big for him, Sans’s, of course, and nervously watched as Papyrus fluttered about the room arranging everything with dramatic flair.

“NYEH HEH HEH! BEHOLD!” Papyrus shouted, throwing his arms wide. “THE ULTIMATE SLEEPOVER PALACE IS COMPLETE! COMPLETE WITH SNACKS, BLANKETS, AND, OH! A SKELETON-THEMED BOARD GAME!”

Sans chuckled from where he was lounging against the wall, sipping from his ever-present ketchup bottle. “heh, ya outdid yourself, bro. it’s got everything a babybones could want.”

Avallon blinked up at them both, his soul fluttering with warmth he didn’t yet know how to name. This… this was what having a family felt like?

He was still scared sometimes. Still uncertain. But here, wrapped in the laughter of two older brothers who looked past his cracks and saw someone worth loving, it didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

Papyrus returned with a bowl of popcorn (“CAREFULLY UNBUTTERED SO AS NOT TO RUIN BONES!”) and practically shoved it into Avallon’s lap. “POP YOUR CORN, YOUNG ONE! IT’S TIME FOR BONDING!”

“I-it’s just p-popcorn,” Avallon mumbled with a shy giggle.

“NOT ANYMORE! NOW IT IS THE SNACK OF BROTHERSHIP!”

Sans reached over and dropped a mini chocolate bar into the bowl. “popcorn... upgraded.”

Papyrus sat on the floor and pulled Avallon close so he was squished between both brothers. The board game lay open on the carpet in front of them, some of the pieces already scattered from Papyrus’s enthusiastic setup.

They tried playing it at first.

They really did.

But between Papyrus loudly announcing each move with overly complicated battle cries (“I SHALL STRIKE THY SKELETON KNIGHT WITH MY BONE OF JUSTICE!”) and Sans lazily cheating by teleporting pieces around the board, it wasn’t long before Avallon was laughing so hard he’d fallen onto his side, clutching his ribs, not that he had much else to clutch.

Eventually, the game was forgotten entirely in favor of telling jokes and playing shadow puppets on the wall. Papyrus showed off his impressive skills, complete with dramatic narrations, and Sans, of course, went for bad puns.

“look, it’s a dog shadow… wait, no. it’s a-paw-ling.”

“BOO!” Papyrus threw a pillow at him.

“that’s not very bone-ficial to my self esteem, bro.”

Avallon giggled so hard he accidentally snorted and covered his face in embarrassment, which only made both Sans and Papyrus burst into more laughter.

After a while, the silliness gave way to quieter moments. They dimmed the magical glow-lamps and pulled the blankets around their small circle. Avallon found himself nestled snugly between them, Papyrus had curled protectively around his left, and Sans was leaning against the wall on his right, legs stretched out, jacket hood pulled over his head.

"hey, kiddo," Sans murmured. "doin' okay?"

Avallon blinked up at him sleepily. The events of the day, the naming, the hugs, the laughter, had all begun to catch up with him in a slow, heavy wave of comfort.

"Y-yeah," he whispered, "I… I t-think I'm really happy."

Sans smiled, his sockets soft. “good. that’s all i wanted to hear.”

Papyrus yawned so loudly it startled all three of them. “NYEEEEH… WE MUST SLEEP SO WE MAY HAVE ENERGY FOR TOMORROW’S TRAINING! I SHALL TEACH YOU HOW TO DO THE LEGENDARY PAPYRUS BONE BOOGIE!”

Avallon laughed. “O-okay, Papy…”

He cuddled into Papyrus’s oversized sweater sleeve, already feeling his consciousness drift. His little bony hand reached behind him, gripping at Sans’s hoodie.

“N-night, Sans… Night, P-Papy…”

“night, Avallon,” Sans replied, adjusting the blanket over him gently.

“Good Night, My New Little Brother!” Papyrus added, his voice full of joy, though a bit quieter this time.

And just like that, the three skeletons, one brand-new to the family, one quiet and steady, and one dramatic and loving, curled together in their pile of warmth and laughter.

It was a messy sleepover.

A perfect sleepover.

And, for Avallon, the first real dream he ever had in the Underground was of a home that finally felt like his.

He was wearing the new clothing Sans had brought him a few days after Avallon had come to live with them, right after leaving Alphys’s lab behind for good.

He remembered the moment clearly. Sans had returned from one of his rare official shifts, holding a small paper bag with the store’s logo stamped crookedly on the front. Avallon had peeked inside, and upon seeing the carefully folded clothes, had burst into quiet, hiccuping sobs before Sans could even explain.

"you'll get more when payday rolls around again, bud," Sans had said, awkwardly ruffling the top of Avallon’s skull, clearly unused to dealing with crying children, especially skeletal ones.

Avallon had hugged him so tight he thought his bones would rattle.

Now, wearing those clothes, he felt wrapped in something more than just fabric. The knitted, warm purple sweater with its dark green stripes felt like comfort itself. The thick black pants were a bit too long, but that made it easier to tuck them into the soft, green boots. He liked the boots especially. They made him feel tall.

And this morning… he had a mission.

Padding silently into the kitchen long before either of his older brothers stirred, Avallon narrowed his bright green eye lights in determination. In his spindly arms, he carefully balanced a box of dry pasta and a large jar of spaghetti sauce, two of the many such items that Papyrus had obsessively stocked the kitchen with ("TO PREPARE FOR ANY PASTA EMERGENCY!" he had declared the day before, stacking a third box on top of the already-towering cupboard).

Avallon wanted to do something for them. Something that showed he appreciated being taken in, being loved, being chosen. They'd brought him home, made him part of their lives, called him their brother.

The least he could do was make them breakfast.

Pasta was breakfast, right?

He frowned up at the stove. It loomed high above him, just out of reach, like some cruel, towering obstacle in a side-scrolling platformer.

Not one to back down, Avallon scanned the room until his eyes landed on a solution: the dining chairs.

With grim determination, he set the pasta and jar on the kitchen counter, arms wobbling slightly as he lifted them high enough to reach, and marched to the table.

The chair was heavier than it looked. He grunted, tugging with all his might as the legs screeched against the floor, but he managed to drag it to the kitchen. Then, carefully, he tilted it onto its back two legs and hooked the top of the chair over the edge of the stove like a makeshift step.

He stepped back and gave a firm nod of approval.

“Perfect,” he whispered to himself.

Next up: the pot.

This part went smoothly. He picked one of the smaller saucepans (which still looked huge in his bony hands), and carried it with utmost care to the sink.

Only to stop and stare up at the faucet in mounting confusion.

Why… why did it have to be so high?

Avallon puffed out a frustrated huff and looked between the sink and the chair still precariously balanced by the stove.

No way he could drag another one over… right?

…Maybe?

He glanced over his shoulder, then at the hallway. Still quiet. No sounds of rattling bones or Papyrus’s enthusiastic morning declarations. No groggy Sans shuffles either.

He had time.

Avallon scurried back to the table, grabbing another chair with both arms and started dragging it across the floor, legs squealing in protest.

As he heaved it into place, he finally heard a low groan from the hall.

“wha… why’s the furniture screaming at six a.m…?” Sans’s sleep-rough voice murmured from the shadows.

Avallon froze, eyes wide as a Gaster Blaster.

“...I’m n-not doing a-anything,” he called innocently.

Another groan. Then quiet again.

Crisis averted, for now.

He scrambled onto the chair, carefully gripping the pot with both hands as he twisted the faucet on. The cold water flowed freely, sloshing into the pot below. Once it was half full, he climbed back down, struggling a little under the weight of the water.

Back on the stove, he hoisted the pot onto the front burner. He’d watched Papyrus do this tons of times. How hard could it be?

He reached for the knob.

Click.

Click-click.

Whoosh.

Flames danced to life beneath the pot, and Avallon beamed in triumph.

“I did it!” he whispered excitedly to himself. He plopped the noodles into the water and then, realizing he had no idea how long it needed to cook, just… guessed. Five minutes? Ten? He’d know when it looked soft, right?

The jar of spaghetti sauce stared at him ominously from the counter.

“…o-okay, next challenge.”

He climbed down again and got to work.

The scent of warming spaghetti sauce and starch-thick steam slowly began to spread through the small house. It drifted lazily through the hallway, creeping under bedroom doors like a curious ghost.

From Papyrus room, Sans stirred.

He sniffed the air once.

Then twice.

“…is someone cookin’?” he muttered, cracking open one bleary eye socket. “wait. who’s cookin’?”

Across the room, Papyrus shot straight up in bed, blankets flinging off like he’d just been struck by divine pasta lightning.

“SPAGHETTI?!”

Both brothers look at each other before they scrambled out of their perspective bedding and emerged into the hallway at almost the same time, Sans in his fuzzy blue slippers, jacket unzipped, and one eye light still dim, and Papyrus in his dramatic orange scarf, sleepwear covered in tiny cartoon lasagnas.

“is it tuesday?” Sans yawned. “feels like a tuesday.”

“THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE, BROTHER!” Papyrus hissed dramatically, leaning toward him. “THE ISSUE… IS THAT THE SMELL OF COOKED PASTA… IS COMING FROM THE KITCHEN! AND I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO MADE IT!”

“…okay, that is worrying,” Sans agreed, now fully awake.

They crept down the hallway together, peeking into the kitchen.

What they saw nearly made Papyrus mandible drop into the floor.

Avallon was standing on one chair and leaning onto another, wielding a massive wooden spoon like a knight with a ladle-shaped lance. Steam filled the room like battlefield smoke, and tiny flecks of spaghetti sauce dotted his sweater. His expression was one of pure focus as he stirred the red sauce with all the gravity of someone mixing magical potion.

“O-okay,” he mumbled to himself. “J-just like how Papy d-did it. Stir… stir… d-don’t burn… I t-think…?”

The noodles were soft. Too soft, if you asked a seasoned chef. But Avallon didn’t know that. All he knew was that they weren’t stiff anymore, and that was a victory.

Papyrus gasped loud enough to startle him.

“AVALLON!!”

“AHHH!” Avallon flailed, nearly losing grip of the spoon. “D-don’t be m-mad! I-I wanted to m-make breakfast for you b-both! I-I wanted to say t-thank you!”

Sans chuckled, stepping forward with a lopsided grin. “kiddo, I thought the house was on fire for a second there.”

“It’s not!” Avallon said quickly. “I-it’s just steam! I t-think. M-maybe. And the noodles m-might be a little… um… s-soft…”

Papyrus was already tearing up.

“YOU…” he choked, dramatically placing a hand on his chest, “YOU MADE SPAGHETTI… FOR US?!”

Avallon nodded nervously, holding out the spoon like a peace offering.

“I-I wanted to d-do something n-nice… you b-both did so m-much for me already.”

Papyrus knelt down, his dramatic flair dropping into something far more genuine.

“Avallon,” he said softly, “You Don’t Have To Earn Our Love. You’re Our Brother. We Love You Already.”

“you didn’t need to cook to say thanks,” Sans added, reaching over to gently pat the top of Avallon’s head. “but this… heh. this is somethin’ else.”

“…i-i-is it b-bad?” Avallon asked, suddenly unsure.

Papyrus stood with fire in his eye sockets. “I REFUSE TO LET FOOD MADE WITH LOVE BE CALLED ‘BAD!’ WE SHALL TASTE THIS MASTERPIECE AT ONCE!”

He swept over to the cabinets, grabbing mismatched bowls with the flair of a showman. Sans handed over the ladle with a wink, and Avallon beamed.

The pasta was… well. It was very soft. The sauce was slightly burnt on the bottom. And Papyrus’s favorite seasoning had been used a little too generously.

But they ate it anyway. Every bite.

All three of them sat squished together on the couch afterward, full bowls in hand, blanket tossed haphazardly over their laps. Avallon snuggled between them, wrapped in scarf and jacket arms, his boots kicked off and legs curled under him.

“next time,” Sans murmured, “i’ll teach ya how to boil water before adding the pasta.”

“AND I SHALL SHOW YOU THE TRUE MEANING OF A PERFECT SIMMER,” Papyrus declared, dramatically raising his spoon like a microphone.

Avallon giggled, head resting lightly against Sans’s shoulder, and his SOUL hummed gently in his ribcage, steady and safe.

He was home. Truly home.

No expectations. No conditions.

Just a warm house, an overcooked breakfast, and two brothers who made the world feel far less cold.

The rest of the morning drifted by with the slow, syrupy pace of a true lazy day.

Papyrus declared the living room officially transformed into the “Cozy Fortress of Brotherhood,” fashioning a pillow fort out of couch cushions, blankets, and one heroic tablecloth he claimed had "battle-tested softness." Avallon had helped, of course, dragging throws twice his size across the floor, proudly following instructions, and giggling when he and Papyrus collapsed onto the blanket pile in the end.

Sans, predictably, had offered sarcastic commentary from the sidelines until he'd been recruited (read: dragged) into building “the eastern wall” of the fort.

Now, the three of them were huddled inside, half-buried in pillows, munching on leftover snacks, and flipping lazily through one of Avallon's picture books.

“this guy’s supposed to be a mouse?” Sans muttered, pointing to a cartoon with oversized ears. “kinda suspicious. no way a mouse walks upright and wears pants.”

Avallon giggled. “B-but he talks t-too! And flies r-rockets!”

“THAT SOUNDS INCREDIBLY IMPRACTICAL FOR A MOUSE,” Papyrus declared, shaking his head. “CLEARLY HE IS A VERY CONFUSED HUMAN.”

They all laughed, Avallon’s rattly little snorts echoing the loudest. He was curled up between them, leaning against Sans’s side with a blanket Papyrus had wrapped around him “FOR MAXIMUM SNUGGLINESS.” He was warm, safe, and full of more pasta than any skeleton his size should be.

And yet, when Sans glanced down at him, something in his eye lights dimmed just a little.

He hadn’t noticed earlier.

But now, in the soft light filtering through the blanket fort, Sans could see how tightly Avallon curled in on himself. The way his fingers fidgeted when he wasn’t focused. The way he tensed slightly, automatically, when either of them made sudden movements, even gentle ones.

Then there were the scars.

Faint hairline fractures along his ribs. Jagged etchings on his scapula. A nick on his left femur that looked like it had once been a deep crack.

“hey, kiddo…” Sans murmured, tone softening as he reached out and gently touched one of the old marks. “what happened here?”

Avallon blinked at him, looking at the spot on his ribs. “W-what h-happened where?”

Sans glanced to Papyrus, who had also noticed the marks by now. His hands were still, his usual dramatic flair faded into a quiet, tense stillness.

“this one,” Sans said gently, not pressing too hard. “looks like a break. ya remember how it happened?”

Avallon stared at it. He tilted his head, as if trying to recall something that wasn’t there.

“No,” he said simply. “I-I still don’t remember a-anything b-before I woke up in the s-snow and met you.”

He poked at the fracture curiously. “I-is it bad? D-did I break a bone when I f-fell?”

Sans let out a long breath. “nah, kid. doesn’t look fresh. just... old stuff. old and healed.”

Papyrus was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached over and gently gathered Avallon into his arms, settling the small skeleton into his lap.

“BROTHER,” he said, voice uncharacteristically serious, “THERE IS NO WAY TO KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU. BUT… THESE MARKS… THEY AREN’T NORMAL. YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE THROUGH THAT.”

Avallon blinked up at him, his sockets wide with innocent confusion.

“B-but… it d-doesn’t hurt. A-and I don’t remember. S-so it’s okay, r-right?”

Sans rubbed the back of his skull slowly, guilt gnawing at his ribs like a bad joke he couldn’t laugh off.

“wish it was that simple, kiddo,” he said quietly. “sometimes… you forget the hurt, but your bones remember it.”

Avallon looked down at his hand, turning it over. “T-they do?”

“yeah,” Sans murmured. “they do.”

There was a pause. A heavy one.

Papyrus tightened his grip a little, not enough to hurt, just enough to hold Avallon closer. “WE CAN’T CHANGE WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE. BUT WE CAN MAKE SURE THAT FROM NOW ON… YOU NEVER HAVE TO FEEL THAT WAY AGAIN.”

Sans shifted closer, looping his arm around the both of them. “we’re your family now. nothin’s ever gonna hurt you like that again. not while we’re around.”

Avallon was quiet for a long time.

Then, very softly, he asked, “A-are you sure?”

And in perfect unison, both brothers replied:

“YES.”

Avallon looked between them, those bright green eye lights shimmering faintly.

Then he leaned into Papyrus’s chest, curling up small, and let out a long, shaky sigh. His SOUL pulsed softly, no longer vibrating with hidden fear, but calming, peaceful.

He didn’t remember the pain. But he didn’t have to. Not when he had them.

The past didn’t matter, not compared to the future that awaited him.

Chapter Text

Papyrus stood triumphantly in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, scarf fluttering dramatically even though there was no wind inside the house. In front of him sat his two groggy brothers, barely conscious after being dragged out of their beds at the crack of dawn.

"FROM THIS DAY FORTH, OCTOBER 31ST SHALL BE KNOWN AS… AVALLON'S BIRTHDAY!"

He held up a messily wrapped gift like it was a sacred treasure, colorful wrapping paper crumpled and taped at odd angles, but clearly put together with care and excitement.

Avallon blinked up at him, still wrapped in a blanket burrito from where he’d been shoved onto the couch. He looked at the gift Papyrus had deposited into his lap, staring at it like it was an alien artifact.

“I… I get a b-birthday?” he asked softly, voice tinged with awe. He held the package like it might disappear if he moved too fast.

"OF COURSE!" Papyrus puffed out his chest. "YOU ARE OUR LITTLE BROTHER NOW, AND THAT MEANS YOU DESERVE A BIRTHDAY! SANS AND I HAVE AGREED, UNANIMOUSLY!"

He pointed dramatically to where Sans was slumped at the kitchen table, face-down in a pile of napkins and toast crumbs.

Sans gave a lazy thumbs-up without lifting his head. "mornin’. happy birthday, kiddo."

Even after a few weeks of living with the skeleton brothers, Avallon still wasn’t used to things like warmth, care… or birthdays. Nobody had ever asked when he was born before, least of all celebrated it... He think, he did get the expression of that in his nightmare.

His fingers trembled as he ran them across the uneven wrapping paper.

"Y-You didn’t have t-to do all this…" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His cheeks were faintly glowing a soft green, his default blush when overwhelmed.

Papyrus let out a boisterous laugh and reached over to ruffle his head. "WE WANTED TO! BIRTHDAYS ARE FOR CELEBRATING LIFE AND FAMILY, AND YOU, AVALLON, ARE BOTH!"

Avallon ducked his head, trying to hide the growing smile tugging at his face.

“hey, paps…” Sans muttered, cheek still squished against the table. “maybe let the kid open the thing before he passes out from gratitude.”

"RIGHT!" Papyrus threw his arms into the air. "JUST OPEN YOUR PRESENT, ALREADY!"

Avallon let out a soft laugh and began peeling back the tape, careful not to tear the wrapping too much. When the paper fell away, his breath hitched. Inside was a soft, long-sleeved sweater, a deep purple with a single green stripe across the middle.

He stared at it for a long moment, fingers brushing over the fabric like it was made of gold.

"I, THE AMAZING PAPYRUS, PICKED IT OUT!" Papyrus declared proudly, bouncing on his heels. "BUT SANS ENCHANTED IT!"

“got some magic stitched in there,” Sans said, lifting his head just enough to flash a lazy grin. “it’s got warming and cooling charms, waterproofing, and it’ll grow with ya. real fancy monsterwear.”

Avallon gave a watery laugh, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from forming.

"H-How do I look?" he asked once he pulled the sweater over his head. It was a bit big, the sleeves falling past his hands and the hem pooling around his hips, but it was soft, warm, and it smelled faintly of cinnamon and ketchup.

He looked up at his brothers with wide green eyes, his soul fluttering with joy.

“YOU LOOK GREAT, AVALLON!” Papyrus declared with both fists in the air.

Sans raised a peace sign with his eyes half-closed. “lookin’ sharp, buddy. might even out-cool me.”

Avallon beamed, his smile wide and unguarded, a rare look of unfiltered happiness spreading across his face. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he belonged. Like he was really, truly part of something.

Avallon peeked nervously around Sans’ jacket as the two skeleton brothers stepped through the familiar door of Grillby’s. The warm glow of the fire-lit bar wrapped around them like a cozy blanket, crackling gently in the background. The scent of oil, ketchup, and toasted buns drifted through the air, making Avallon’s stomach grumble despite his nerves.

Sans felt a small tug at the hem of his jacket and glanced down to see Avallon half-hiding behind him, fingers curled tight into the fabric. His grin widened.

"hey all," he called out casually, giving a lazy wave to the usual crowd.

Several monsters turned from their meals or conversations to glance their way, recognizing Sans instantly, but taking curious notice of the small figure clinging to his side.

He led them to his regular barstool with an easy swagger, chatting with the patrons as he passed.

*Grillby says hello.

*... He wonders where you’ve been, it’s been a while.

“yeah, sorry. i’ve been busy with bone responsibilities,” Sans said, throwing in a wink along with the terrible pun.

Groans echoed around the bar, and one monster even mock-booed from their seat, but it was all in good humor.

He gently patted the top of Avallon’s hood, guiding him toward a seat. “Grillbs, this here’s Avallon. Paps and i are keepin’ him.”

Avallon blinked up at the fire elemental behind the bar, whose gentle flickering flames cast soft glows over the counter. His fire was a calm, ethereal white, occasionally sparking with soft, iridescent colors that shimmered like pearls or stardust. The glow of his flames gave the bar a soothing, almost dreamlike atmosphere. The little monster hesitated for a moment, then offered a small, nervous wave.

“H-Hello…”

Grillby paused in polishing a glass and inclined his head with a faint nod. He didn’t speak aloud, but his flames flickered in a welcoming way. His presence was calming, like a fireplace on a cold day.

“Grillby’s pretty hot stuff around here,” Sans added with another pun, earning another round of groans.

Avallon gave a quiet, giggly snort behind his hand.

Sans turned back to the bar. “hey Grill, can we get a birthday special for the birthday boy over here?”

Grillby’s flames danced briefly, as if in question, but he nodded and moved to prepare the order.

Avallon’s eyes widened, and he tugged gently at Sans’s sleeve. “U-Um… D-Do I have to eat something fancy? I-I don’t want to waste it if I can’t f-finish…”

Sans leaned on the counter and looked at his little brother with an easy smile. “nah, bud. if you don’t like it, we’ll just get you whatever you want. simple as that.”

Avallon hesitated, glancing from the bar to Sans. “C-Can I just have fries? P-Please?”

“sure you can,” Sans said, ruffling his head. “Grillbs! two fries, please!”

Grillby gave a thumbs-up before disappearing into the back with a quiet swish of flame.

Avallon looked down at his lap, twiddling his thumbs. His voice was barely a whisper. “T-Thanks, Sans… You didn’t have to do all this…”

Sans tilted his skull to the side and gave a shrug, voice softer now. “yeah. but i wanted to.”

He leaned in a little closer and grinned. “besides, you can’t live off papyrus’ spaghetti alone. it’s impastable.”

Avallon burst into a giggle fit, burying his face into the sleeves of his too-big birthday sweater. “T-That was terrible!”

“and yet you laughed,” Sans said, looking pleased with himself.

As Grillby returned with two hot plates of crispy golden fries, carefully sprinkled with seasoning, Sans gently nudged a plate toward his little brother.

Avallon’s eyes sparkled as he took his first fry, blowing gently on it before munching down. His nervous energy began to melt away, replaced by a soft glow of happiness.

Around them, the warmth of the bar, the soft chatter of monsters, and the quiet comfort of being together settled over the two like a protective spell.

For the first time in his life, Avallon was celebrating a birthday.

While Sans and Avallon were enjoying their fries at Grillby’s, back at the house, Papyrus was a whirlwind of energy and flour.

“ONIONS!! TOO SLIPPERY! INTO THE TRASH YOU GO!”

The Great Papyrus was in full party-prep mode, his signature scarf tucked high around his neck to avoid the mess he was making in the kitchen. Bits of colored ribbon, balloons, and frosting streaked across the counter like a battlefield of birthday joy. The kitchen smelled faintly of spaghetti, but this time, sweet notes of vanilla and sugar had crept in. He had actually baked a cake. A real one.

“THIS IS FOR AVALLON,” he reminded himself aloud with a puffed-out chest, “NOT AN ORDINARY DAY OF PASTA!”

He zipped from the oven to the living room with shocking speed, tape stuck to his gloves and party hats trailing behind him. Streamers clung to the ceiling and bobbed merrily with each gust of movement, and a large, slightly crooked banner reading "HAPPY BIRTHDAY AVALLON!!" hung proudly above the couch.

As the finishing touches were applied, there was a knock at the door.

Papyrus practically flew to open it.

"ALPHYS! YOU MADE IT! DID YOU BRING THE SNACKS? THE SCIENCE SNACKS?"

Alphys blinked behind her glasses and held up a box of dino-shaped cookies. “Y-Yeah! And I, uh, might’ve added some vitamins in them so he doesn’t get, um… sugar overload?”

“EXCELLENT!” Papyrus beamed, whisking her inside. “THE GUEST OF HONOR WILL ARRIVE SHORTLY!”

Behind Alphys came Undyne, all fiery confidence and big steps, her eyepatch catching the light. She carried a brightly-wrapped box under one arm and shouted, “YO! Papyrus! Heard there’s a new kid to meet!”

Papyrus clapped his hands together. “THERE IS! OUR LITTLE BROTHER! THIS IS HIS FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY! BE NICE!”

Undyne puffed up proudly. “Of course! I’m gonna give him training tips and cool advice and probably scare him a little, but in a fun way!”

Alphys elbowed her. “U-Undyne…”

“…okay fine, in a less scary way.”

Papyrus didn’t mind. In fact, he was secretly glad Avallon would meet Undyne today. She had a way of making someone feel seen, even if it came with a wrestling match or two.

Just as Papyrus was about to head back to the kitchen, the front door burst open dramatically in a wave of glitter and theme music.

“Darlings! I have ARRIVED!”

“M-Mettaton!” Alphys nearly dropped the cookies.

There stood Mettaton in his flashy EX form, a mic in one hand and a sparkle cannon on the other shoulder.

“YOU’RE EARLY!” Papyrus cried, eyes wide with delight. “THE SPOTLIGHT ISN’T EVEN ON YET!”

“I make the spotlight, dear,” Mettaton said, striking a pose as a glittery fog machine began hissing behind him. “Now, where is the birthday child?”

“HE’S AT GRILLBY’S WITH SANS. HE SHOULD BE BACK SOON.”

Mettaton sighed dramatically. “Very well. Then I shall warm up my voice and give him a birthday solo when he arrives!”

Undyne rolled her eye. “He’s like five, Mettaton.”

“EXACTLY,” Mettaton replied, placing one hand on his chest. “A prime age to experience the magic of musical stardom!”

As the guests helped finish setting things up, placing gifts in a pile, stringing more decorations, and snacking on Alphys’ questionable dino-cookies, Papyrus stood in the center of it all, hands on his hips.

“EVERYTHING IS PERFECT.”

He looked around at his friends, their laughter, their joy, and then down at the cake he had made, a little lopsided, but covered in Avallon’s favorite colors: green and purple, just like the new sweater.

When Sans opened the door to the house, he immediately tensed at the faint smell of glitter and burnt frosting.

“…uh oh.”

Avallon peeked up from behind him, still licking fry salt from his fingers. “Wh-What is it?”

Sans gave him a lazy, suspicious grin. “dunno, kiddo. smells like Paps’ been up to somethin’.”

He stepped aside dramatically and gestured for Avallon to enter first.

And the moment Avallon stepped over the threshold—

“SURPRIIIIIIISE!!”

The living room exploded with noise.

Streamers rained from the ceiling. A confetti cannon went off somewhere dangerously close to the couch. A glitter fog machine hissed like it was about to combust. And smack in the center of it all stood Papyrus, arms thrown wide, practically vibrating with pride.

“WELCOME HOME, BIRTHDAY BOY!!”

Avallon stood there, frozen in place. His eyes were huge in his skull, his jaw slack. He clutched Sans’s sleeve again, overwhelmed, but not frightened. Just surprised.

Mettaton launched into a dazzling, echoing rendition of a dramatic pop ballad rewritten with Avallon’s name in it, complete with backup effects, disco lights, and a robotic pirouette that made the table wobble.

“♬ AVALLON~ YOU’RE A STAR~ TODAY IS YOUR DAY TO SHINE~ ♬”

“…that’s not even his theme,” Sans muttered under his breath with a snort.

Avallon blinked rapidly, a tiny stunned “w-wha…” escaping him before Papyrus scooped him up like a prized plushie and twirled him around the room.

“YOU LOOK SURPRISED, LITTLE BROTHER!! I SPENT ALL DAY ON THIS! DO YOU LIKE IT?? IS IT PERFECT?? DID THE GLITTER HIT YOU IN THE FACE?? IT MEANS IT’S WORKING!!”

Avallon stammered softly, “I-I love it, Papyrus…! It’s… it’s a-all for me?”

Papyrus held him tighter. “OF COURSE IT IS! YOUR VERY FIRST PARTY WITH US! YOUR VERY FIRST PARTY EVER, RIGHT?”

Avallon nodded, eyes shining. “Y-Yeah…”

Just then, a loud stomp made the floor shake. “HEY!! WHO’S THIS TINY GUY?!”

Avallon turned—

—and was immediately face-to-face with a tall, blue fish-like warrior with shark teeth, a crimson eyepatch, and a laugh like a war drum.

Undyne.

“YOU’RE THE NEW LITTLE BROTHER, HUH?” she shouted with a wild grin.

Avallon instinctively took a step back, gripping Papyrus’s scarf. His magic flared just a little, flickering green behind his eye sockets.

But Undyne raised both hands in surrender and knelt down with a sharp grin. “WHOA WHOA! Easy, Tiny Bones! No need to get all spiky! I just wanted to say—”

She reached into her jacket, and for a brief moment, everyone tensed, expecting something dramatic.

But instead…

She pulled out a lumpy, clearly-handmade plush shaped like a spear with googly eyes and offered it forward awkwardly.

“…Happy Birthday, kid.”

Avallon blinked at it, then slowly reached out with both hands. “Is… is this Speary…?”

Undyne choked.

“H-How did you- YOU KNOW ABOUT SPEARY?!”

“I-I watched your f-fight with Papyrus on Mettaton TV once… and you s-said ‘behold, my mighty plush comrade, Speary!’ and t-then you threw it at him…”

Papyrus gasped, “YOU REMEMBER THAT?! THAT WAS SEASON FOUR!!”

Undyne was frozen, cheeks turning a faint bluish-purple hue under her scales. She then grabbed Avallon by the shoulders.

“YOU. ARE. AWESOME.”

“Heheh…” Avallon giggled, nervously holding the plush.

“CAN I ADOPT YOU TOO?!”

“HEY,” Sans called lazily from the couch, arms behind his head. “back off, fishface. we got the kid first.”

Undyne huffed, then let go of Avallon, but not without one more pat on the head that was way too strong and nearly knocked his head off.

Alphys shuffled up next, giving Avallon a dino-cookie with a shy smile. “H-Happy Birthday, Avallon… I, um, didn’t know your favorite flavor, so I made them all…”

Avallon blinked. “...T-his one has k-ketchup?”

“IT’S CALLED EXPERIMENTATION!” Alphys said a little too quickly.

“i’ll take that one,” Sans said, snagging it with a wink.

The rest of the evening was a blur of laughter, cake, clumsily sung birthday songs, and Papyrus enthusiastically insisting they all play charades even though Mettaton kept trying to cheat by transforming into the answer.

Avallon had never had a party before.

He never even dreamed of one.

But this one? Surrounded by his family, their chaotic friends, their warmth and noise and love?

It was perfect.

The house had finally quieted down.

Mettaton’s music had faded into distant hums as he floated dramatically away. Undyne had stomped off after promising Avallon a “Training session so epic it’d make his bones rattle.” Alphys had shyly handed him a DVD collection of Human History: Anime Edition before scampering off.

The glitter still lingered like magic dust in the air.

Sans leaned against the railing of the front porch, a toothpick between his teeth and his gaze tilted up toward the faint glimmer of the crystals that covered the capital walls.

The door creaked open behind him.

“…Sans?”

“hey, kiddo.”

Avallon padded out, hugging the stuffed Speary tightly to his chest, still in his little birthday hoodie with a paper star clipped to it.

“can’t sleep?”

He shook his head and stepped closer to Sans’s side.

“Too happy.”

Sans chuckled low in his chest, reaching down to gently tousle the top of Avallon’s skull. “heh. now that’s a first.”

Avallon stood silently for a while, leaning a little into his brother’s side. The night air was cool, brushing over his bones like a lullaby.

“…D-did you really p-plan all this?” he finally whispered.

“nah. paps did most of it. i just wrangled the guests. and the fries.”

Avallon giggled, then hesitated.

“…I-I never had a b-birthday before. I t-think.”

Sans looked down at him, smile softening. “well. you got one now. and every year after this one.”

“E-even if I mess up?”

Sans nudged his shoulder. “especially if you mess up. that’s what family’s for, ain’t it?”

Avallon looked up at him, eyes shimmering. Then, with a sudden motion, he turned and hugged Sans’s middle tightly, burying his face in his jacket.

“…Thank you.”

Sans paused, then wrapped both arms around him, pulling him close.

“anytime, kiddo.”

For a long moment, they just stood there, the silence stretching peacefully between them under the stars.

Then—

“speary sleepin’ okay?”

Avallon muffled a laugh. “H-he’s tired. H-he got hit by Undyne’s forehead e-earlier.”

“ouch. rip, buddy.”

Later that night, after the house had gone quiet again, Papyrus tiptoed into Avallon’s room.

He found the little skeleton already tucked in bed, the faint rise and fall of his chest slow and steady. Speary was clutched in one arm, and a half-eaten cookie rested on the nightstand.

Papyrus smiled fondly and carefully adjusted the blanket around his little brother, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

“…You Really Had Fun Today, Didn’t You?” he whispered, brushing a stray bit of confetti off Avallon’s skull. “i Knew You Would. Because I, The Great Papyrus, Know How To Throw The Best Parties!”

Avallon stirred a little but didn’t wake. A soft murmur escaped him.

“…Love you, Papy…”

Papyrus blinked. Then a soft, uncharacteristically gentle smile spread across his face.

He leaned down and kissed the top of Avallon’s skull.

“I love you too, little brother.”

And with that, he stood, did a silent but triumphant fist pump, and tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door cracked open just enough to let in the faint light of the hallway.

Just in case Avallon had any nightmares.

Avallon’s breath slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.

But dreams were strange for monsters like him, woven from memories, emotions, magic, and fragments of the soul.

At first, there was cold.

An empty space. A void.

He stood alone in a dim, endless white, the edges of the world blurry and soft. He couldn’t quite feel his body. He didn’t know who he was. Not yet. Not truly.

A voice echoed in the fog. Faint, familiar.

"You don’t belong anywhere."

"You’re just a mistake."

"A Freak."

Avallon flinched.

The white fog thickened.

He curled into himself, trembling. His hands were bare bone, small, thin, ghostlike. He wasn’t sure if he’d always looked like this. The past was a blur.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Then—

A warm hand gently took his.

His eyes opened to deep blue sockets and a lazy, lopsided smile.

“hey, kid. found ya.”

The fog pulled back as if frightened by Sans's presence. The space shifted.

Instead of white nothingness, he was standing in the kitchen, dimly lit, warm, smelling faintly of spaghetti and cinnamon fries. His hand was still in Sans’s.

And from the hallway came the unmistakable shout:

“AVALLON! I MADE COCOA WITH MINI-MARSHMALLOWS! DO NOT IGNORE THE MARSHMALLOWS!”

Avallon blinked.

He looked down at his body, still skeletal, still small, but he was wearing the birthday hoodie. His feet were warm. The house felt alive with laughter and light.

Sans ruffled his head. “see? told ya. we’re here.”

In the dream, Avallon smiled. The fear slipped away like melting frost.

He turned toward the sound of Papyrus and ran.

In his bed, his fingers curled slightly, as if still holding onto a hand. A quiet sound escaped him. Not a word, just peace.

Papyrus, who had returned for a second check-in (carrying a comically oversized teddy bear just in case Avallon needed it), paused at the doorway.

He watched as his little brother let out a soft sigh and nuzzled Speary.

“...Sleep Well, Little Brother,” he whispered.

Then, with surprising gentleness, he placed the bear beside the bed, turned off the hall light, and shut the door completely.

For the first time in a long time, Avallon’s dreams were quiet.

No more empty fog.

No more cruel echoes.

Only cocoa, marshmallows, and voices that meant home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The quiet hum of the Underground night had settled into the house like a warm blanket. The steady drip of a far-off stalactite and the faint, magical thrum of the barrier’s distant pulse formed the soft background music of home.

Papyrus had gone to bed after his usual whirlwind bedtime ritual with Avallon, which, tonight, included a full three minutes of tooth-brushing (“GOTTA GET EVERY MOLAR SPARKLING, MY SMALL SIBLING!”) and tucking him in with the flourish of a stage magician. The younger skeleton had played along with a fond smile, but sleep hadn’t come. Not with so many thoughts skittering through his skull like jittery little spiders.

So now, wrapped up like a cinnamon roll on the couch in one of Sans’s oversized fluffy hoodies, Avallon blinked up at his eldest brother as the sound of clinking mugs drifted in from the kitchen.

Sans ambled back into the living room, fluffy fuschia slippers scuffing softly against the carpet, balancing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. The air filled with the rich, sweet scent of cocoa and toasted marshmallows.

He handed one to Avallon with a lazy grin. “careful, kiddo. it’s hot… but not as hot as Pap’s last cooking experiment.”

Avallon snorted into his cup. “H-his spaghetti wasn’t that s-spicy last time!”

“yeah, well,” Sans leaned back, smirking, “he accidentally used a fire flower instead of a tomato. can’t tell if he’s inventing new recipes or new weapons.”

A soft giggle bubbled out of Avallon, and Sans plopped down beside him, sinking into the couch cushions like a puddle of bones. For a while, they just sipped their drinks in companionable silence, the occasional squeak of a marshmallow breaking up the low crackle of the fireplace.

Avallon’s gaze drifted to the deep-blue gemstone pinned to Sans’s jacket, just beneath the fluffy false fur. It wasn’t just reflecting the firelight, it was glowing, faint but steady, like a tiny heartbeat.

“H-hey, Sans?” Avallon asked, voice curious. “That p-pin you wear… It’s always glowing. W-what is it?”

Sans glanced down at the sapphire and tapped it lightly with one finger. “this lil’ guy? oh, that’s my sparkle buddy. don’t worry, he doesn’t rock the boat too much.”

Avallon gave him a look. “Saaans.” He whines.

He chuckled, holding up a hand. “alright, alright. it’s called a crysalith. every monster gets one eventually. yours’ll show up when you hit the big one-oh.”

“T-ten?” Avallon’s eyes widened, his hands tightening around his mug. “W-what’s it do?”

Sans set his cocoa on his belly and reclined a little more. “well, you ever shake up a soda can and open it real fast?”

Avallon tilted his head. “Uh-huh. It explodes!”

“exactly. our magic can build up the same way, especially somewhere like the Underground, magic’s thicker here, denser. thicker than a snail pie fresh from hotland.”

Avallon wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

Sans smirked. “heh. not my favorite either. but the point is, all that magic’s gotta go somewhere. a crysalith forms naturally from your own magic, and it acts like a pressure valve. keeps you from burning out, blowing up, or accidentally turning your homework into a potted plant.”

Avallon’s brows lifted. “…T-that happened t-to someone?”

“yep. long story, short story, either way it was a weird story,” Sans said. “point is, while the gem isn’t tied to your SOUL exactly, but it’s still part of you. every crysalith’s unique, shape, color, how it feels. it’s like a magical fingerprint.”

Avallon’s eyes were wide now. “So m-mine will be made f-from my m-magic?”

“yep. shaped by your personality, your quirks… maybe even your favorite snacks. so if it ends up looking like a marshmallow, don’t be shocked.”

That got a laugh. “I w-want mine to be purple! Or shiny!”

“good choices,” Sans said with a mock-serious nod. “you’ll be glimmering with potential.”

Then, with a flicker of blue magic, he summoned a small, hovering blade, a stylized bone-knife, its edges glowing like moonlight. It floated lazily above his palm.

“for skeletons like us, the gem lets us summon our most compatible weapon. this one’s mine. Pap’s got his own style, way flashier. someday, yours’ll show up, and you’ll find out what magic picked for you. could be a sword, could be a slingshot… could even be a magical banana.”

Avallon nearly spilled his cocoa laughing. “S-Sans!!”

“what? magic’s got a-peel.”

The pun sent him into another fit of giggles, which Sans accepted with a smug little nod. When the laughter faded, Avallon leaned into his brother’s side, eyes fixed on the shifting embers in the fireplace.

“W-what about other monsters? Like Alphys? O-or g-ghosts?”

“good question, nerdlet.” Sans draped a lazy arm across his shoulders. “dragon-types like alphys? their gems let ‘em shift body size, grow wings, fly. ghosts? usually psychic powers, telepathy, levitation, the ol’ stare-into-your-soul trick. each species has its own thing.”

“...D-does everyone use them?”

“nah,” Sans said, sipping cocoa again. “but for monsters with strong magic, they’re a lifesaver. like… say, someone who sneezed last week and made the kitchen light flicker.”

Avallon’s cheeks flushed. “T-that was just o-one time!”

“yeah,” Sans said with a grin, “but it lit up my day.”

The little skeleton groaned but leaned in closer. “D-do you think I’ll get m-mine soon?”

“not long now,” Sans murmured, brushing his knuckles lightly against his skull. “and when it shows up, it’ll be perfect for you.”

“...E-even if it’s w-weird?” Avallon asked, almost whispering.

Sans’s gaze softened. “especially if it’s weird. weird’s where the magic shines brightest, kiddo.”

That earned a shy smile.

Sans drained the last of his cocoa and set the mug aside. “welp, guess it’s gem-erally time for bed.”

“That w-was terrible,” Avallon mumbled, still smiling.

“thank you. I try.”

With an exaggerated “whoooosh!” and “up, up, and away!”, Sans scooped him up and floated them gently down the hall, the glow of the sapphire gem catching the firelight.

As he tucked Avallon into bed, the little skeleton murmured, “…I-I hope mine’s something c-cool.”

Sans leaned down, booped his nose, and whispered, “with you, kid? it’s gonna be brilliant.”

In all that time, he had changed, yet somehow, not by much. Physically, he had only grown as if two short years had passed. His frame was still small, though now his bones had a subtle sturdiness that hadn’t been there when he first stumbled into their lives. He stood a little taller too, enough for Papyrus to dramatically declare that he would soon be “LOOMING LIKE A HERO OVER HIS VANQUISHED FOES,” which earned him the affectionate nickname sprout. Papyrus insisted it was because he was “GROWING MAGICALLY SLOW BUT DRAMATICALLY COOL,” and every time he said it, Avallon couldn’t help but giggle.

His eye lights told the bigger story. When they first met, they had been faint, dimmed with the constant wariness of someone expecting the world to bite back. Now, they glowed warmer, still soft, but no longer guarded.

Sans had taken the time to explain why. Monsters, he said, aged differently than humans. Their bodies were woven from magic, not flesh and blood, which meant their growth was slower, their lifespans far longer, especially for skeletons and ghost-types, who were practically immortal unless something truly dangerous managed to take them down. “think of it like… you’ve got plenty of time to level up,” Sans had quipped with a shrug, though his gaze had been serious.

But while physical years moved slowly for them, emotional growth was something else entirely. That didn’t come from time alone, it came from living, from everything one endured and learned. And Avallon… had already endured far too much. Even if the memories were hazy, the shadows they left behind were enough.

What he did remember came only in dreams: flashes of cold, of pain that throbbed deep in his SOUL, of voices sharp enough to cut. The sensation of being trapped in a space too small to move. He never saw full faces in those dreams, only shapes, light and dark, and the occasional glint of something cruel in someone’s eyes.

But in the waking world, those shadows had dulled. The warmth of his family, their loud laughter, their terrible puns, their strange but steady love, had blunted the edges of those memories. Whatever had once tried to break him had failed. Here, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

And for a monster, that made all the difference.

One lazy afternoon, the kind where Snowdin’s soft, muffled quiet seemed to wrap the whole town in a blanket, Avallon lay sprawled across the couch. His head rested comfortably in Papyrus’s lap, while the taller skeleton sat with perfect posture, one hand idly stroking the edge of his scarf as if deep in thought.

Across from them, Sans sat slouched in his usual armchair, one sock-covered foot propped on the low table, puzzle pieces lazily orbiting in the air above his head. The faint glow of his magic lit the drifting shapes like tiny constellations, shifting and slotting together at a pace only Sans would consider “productive.”

Avallon’s eyes followed the pieces, their slow, drifting dance hypnotic. He’d been quiet for a while, lost in the rhythm, but a question that had been buzzing in the back of his skull for days finally tumbled out.

“Sans… c-can I see what your Crysalith looks like?”

Sans didn’t even glance up from the puzzle. His grin tilted just slightly. “heh. figured you’d ask that sooner or later, kid.”

He reached beneath the false-fur trim of his jacket collar and unclipped a small, familiar pin. With a flick of his wrist, he held it out toward Avallon. The sapphire sat in his palm like a captured drop of deep ocean, perfectly round, its surface catching the ambient magical glow of the Underground. It shimmered faintly, pulsing in gentle rhythm with Sans’s soul.

“this ol’ thing not really for decoration, though I’ll admit, it does bring out my sockets.” Sans said, giving Avallon a wink.

Avallon’s giggle came out soft and shy. He sat up, cradling the gem between careful fingers. It was cool to the touch, but thrummed faintly with Sans’s essence, lazy, calm, and protective, like the feeling of a thick blanket on a cold morning.

“Whoa…” he breathed, staring into the sapphire’s depths. “Th-that’s so cool…”

“OF COURSE IT IS!”

Avallon squeaked and nearly dropped the Crysalith as Papyrus leapt dramatically from the couch, striking a pose that would’ve looked right at home on a hero’s poster. One hand rested proudly on his hip, the other thrust toward the ceiling as if summoning the power of the stars themselves.

“BEHOLD!” Papyrus boomed. “THE GREAT PAPYRUS’S CRYSALITH!”

With a flourish, he unwound the long orange scarf from his neck. Sewn securely into the very end, surrounded by careful stitches, was a star-shaped jasper the color of autumn leaves at their brightest. Unlike Sans’s calm, deep-blue gem, Papyrus’s blazed with warm energy, bold and brilliant, occasionally sparking with bursts of harmless magic like tiny fireworks.

“JASPER!” he proclaimed. “A CRYSALITH AS GLORIOUS AS ITS OWNER! IT SUMMONS MY MIGHTY BLASTER HAMMER IN BATTLE AND—” he leaned closer to Avallon with a conspiratorial stage whisper, “—ALSO HELPS WITH HOUSEHOLD CHORES, MAKING THEM BOTH EFFICIENT AND FABULOUS!”

Sans made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh, hiding his grin behind his sleeve. Avallon, however, was wide-eyed, his smile stretching as he held out both hands. “Can I… can I see it up close?”

“OF COURSE, DEAREST LITTLE BROTHER!” Papyrus declared, kneeling down with surprising gentleness and placing the end of his scarf into Avallon’s palms.

The moment Avallon touched it, he felt the difference. Where Sans’s gem was cool and steady, Papyrus’s was warm and buzzing, alive with boundless enthusiasm and unshakable confidence. It felt… so Papyrus.

“So,” Avallon murmured, reluctant to let go, “w-when I turn ten… I’ll get o-one too, right?”

Sans and Papyrus exchanged a glance, a whole conversation passing silently between them. “yep,” Sans said after a moment. “every monster gets their crysalith around their tenth birthday. it forms from your magic, like a fingerprint, but shinier.”

“AND COOLER!” Papyrus added with a flourish.

Avallon tilted his head, curiosity sparking. “Do w-we know what m-mine will be?”

Sans scratched the back of his skull, shrugging. “nah, kiddo. it’s different for everyone. even if we’re all bones, your gem’s yours alone.”

Papyrus leaned closer, his grin warm and certain. “WHATEVER IT BECOMES, A BLAZING STAR, A DAZZLING CRYSTAL, OR SOMETHING ENTIRELY UNEXPECTED, I’M SURE IT WILL BE THE MOST AMAZING GEM IN THE UNDERGROUND!”

A faint blush of green magic tinted Avallon’s cheeks as he buried his face into Papyrus’s scarf. “Thanks…” he mumbled.

They stayed like that for a while, the three of them framed by the soft flicker of the fireplace. The warm, dancing light turned the jasper and sapphire into tiny beacons, glowing side by side.

Avallon eventually let Papyrus take back his scarf, but even with his hands empty, he couldn’t stop imagining what his own gem might be like. He hoped it would be something special, not just for himself, but for them.

Because deep down, under the soft comfort of the moment, where the old shadows still whispered of dark rooms and angry voices, Avallon made a silent promise:

I’ll protect them back. Just like they protected me.

The house had gone still.

Outside, faint bioluminescent crystals clung to the cavern walls, their gentle glow washing the snow-covered streets of Snowdin in shades of blue and violet. The world beyond their little home was silent, save for the occasional crunch of distant footsteps on snow. Inside, the Skele-bros’ living room was awash in golden warmth, the fireplace crackling softly as flames licked over the logs. Shadows danced on the walls, flickering in time with the fire’s breathing.

Avallon lay curled in a blanket cocoon on the couch, the kind of warm, heavy nest that made it easy to forget the rest of the world existed. His skull rested against Papyrus’s ribs, the taller skeleton sitting like an unmoving sentinel, one arm draped protectively around him.

Across the room, Sans lounged in the armchair, a book on mechanical engineering propped open in his lap. His half-lidded sockets said he was about two sentences away from dozing off.

It had been a long, full day, the kind that left your bones pleasantly tired. They’d solved puzzles together out in the fresh snow, Papyrus had attempted the 42nd version of his “world-changing” spaghetti recipe (this one allegedly destined to finally impress Mettaton), and they’d wandered the market stalls until their arms were full of groceries and Papyrus’s scarf was dusted with frost. Now, bellies warm and spirits warmer, they rested in the kind of silence that comes only from people who trust each other completely.

“Paps?” Avallon’s voice was muffled, the words tangled in the scarf and blanket burrito he was swaddled in.

“YES, MY LITTLE CABBAGE ROLL?” Papyrus replied immediately, his palm coming to rest on Avallon’s head with gentle precision.

Avallon let out a small snort-laugh, but the sound faded quickly. “…C-can we… can w-we stay like this a little longer?”

Papyrus’s tone softened instantly, the showmanship melting away. “We Can Stay Like This For As Long As You Wish, Dearest Brother.”

Sans cracked one eye open and smirked. “pretty sure Paps hasn’t moved from that spot in an hour. you’ve got him exactly where you want him, kiddo.”

Avallon smiled faintly, but didn’t laugh this time. The quiet stretched, comfortable at first, until he spoke again, barely above a whisper.

“I… I had a d-dream a-again last n-night.”

Sans’s grin faded. Both brothers straightened slightly, Papyrus’s hand freezing mid-pat.

“one of those dreams?” Sans’s voice was careful now, like stepping on thin ice.

Avallon nodded, eye lights fixed somewhere on the blanket’s weave. “I-I didn’t s-see much this t-time. J-just… small. Cold. S-someone yelling. A-and… a c-cupboard door.”

His voice had shrunk to something fragile, like paper that might tear if handled wrong. Sans’s soul gave a painful pulse in his ribs.

Papyrus’s scarf swished softly as he shifted, pulling the blanket more snugly around Avallon’s small frame. His usually booming voice was quiet now, almost hesitant. “Dreams Can’t Hurt You, Avallon. And You’re Here Now. With Us.”

“I-I know,” Avallon whispered. “I j-just… I d-don’t understand w-why I remember those things, b-but not the people.”

Sans set his book aside and pushed himself out of the armchair, kneeling beside the couch so his eye level matched Avallon’s. One hand rested gently over Avallon’s, steady and grounding.

“sometimes the soul remembers what the mind doesn’t,” Sans murmured. “trauma’s tricky like that, even for monsters. and you were real little when we found ya.”

Papyrus’s gaze was steady, no hint of pity in it, only conviction. “SOMETIMES THE PAST ISN’T WORTH REMEMBERING IN DETAIL. YOU DON’T HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING TO US, BROTHER. WE LOVE YOU JUST AS YOU ARE, NOT FOR WHAT CAME BEFORE.”

Avallon’s sockets glimmered faintly with unshed tears. “E-even i-if I-I’m… b-broken?”

Sans reached up and tapped the side of his own skull with two fingers. “you’re not broken, kiddo. you’re healing. and healing’s not always pretty, but it’s real. and it’s yours.”

Papyrus bent over him slowly, arms wrapping around the smaller skeleton without squeezing too tightly, his voice low but still sure. “You’re Not Alone Anymore. You Never Have To Be. Ever.”

The first sob slipped out almost soundless, just a shiver of breath catching on the way out. Then another. But they weren’t the wild, choking sobs of terror from years past. These were quiet, shaking in his chest, safe tears, the kind you only cry when you know you’re held.

Papyrus rocked him in slow, careful motions, one hand rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades. Sans stayed close, palm still covering Avallon’s hand like an anchor, his presence silent but solid.

Minutes passed in the slow rhythm of fire crackle, blanket rustle, and the sound of someone slowly emptying years of fear in the safety of a warm room.

When the tears finally tapered off, Avallon sniffled and let out a shaky, embarrassed laugh. “I-I got your s-scarf and Gem all soggy ‘n gross…”

Papyrus drew back just enough to gasp dramatically. “A TRAGEDY OF EPIC PROPORTIONS! BUT FEAR NOT! THIS SCARF HAS WEATHERED MANY A PERIL, INCLUDING SPAGHETTI SAUCE DISASTERS, AND LIVED TO WRAP AGAIN!”

A tiny giggle slipped from Avallon, despite himself. Sans’s mouth quirked into a smile as he reached up to ruffle his skull.

“wanna crash in our room tonight?” Sans asked.

Avallon’s nod was small but certain.

Without a word, Papyrus scooped him up, blanket and all, cradling him like the hero from one of their bedtime comics. He carried him into Sans’s room, where the brothers quickly made a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor. One sleeping bag, two pillows, and three skeletons piled together in a warm knot.

Sans was already halfway to sleep when he mumbled, “g’night, short stack…”

Papyrus pressed a warm, careful kiss to the top of Avallon’s skull. “SWEET DREAMS, MY BROTHER.”

And wrapped in the steady warmth of the two souls who had become his world, Avallon closed his eyes. This time, there were no cold cupboards, no yelling, no fear, only the sound of the fire fading in the next room and the feeling of being exactly where he belonged.

The quiet of the room was the kind of stillness that made every tiny sound feel louder.

The gentle whirr of the heater.

The soft, steady breaths of Papyrus a few feet away.

The faint, lazy rattle from Sans’s side of the room when he snored.

Avallon stirred under the thick blanket, his SOUL beating a little faster for reasons he couldn’t place. He blinked into the darkness, momentarily unsure of where he was. His magic curled uneasily, an instinctive ripple of old fear.

It was the kind of moment that, years ago, would have sent him scrambling into a corner.

Now… he rolled his head to the side.

Papyrus was asleep, long limbs tangled in his blanket like he’d been trying to wrestle it in his dreams. Sans was curled up in his sleeping bag, head tipped back, jacket hood half-covering his skull, one socket faintly glowing even in sleep.

They were both there.
Still here.

A soft breath escaped him, something between relief and gratitude, and he tucked himself deeper under the blanket. His SOUL steadied, lulled by the presence of his family. His eyes drifted closed again.

And then, like a tide slipping over sand, memory crept in.

Five years earlier.

The first week after they adopted him.

The room had been too dark. Too quiet.
Every creak in the old floorboards above made his magic jolt like it was bracing for impact.

He sat curled in the farthest corner of Sans room, blanket wrapped around himself so tightly it hurt his shoulders. His SOUL pounded in his chest, raw with the echo of a life he couldn’t quite remember but couldn’t stop feeling.

Sans had been the first to peek in.
No sudden movement, just leaning on the doorframe, socket light dim.

“hey, kiddo.”

Papyrus came right after, carrying a cup of warm milk with both hands like it was precious cargo. His voice was careful, still loud, but softened in a way that was almost awkward for him.

“YOU… UH… YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN BED.” A pause, then quieter: “It’s Safer There.”

He’d hesitated before stepping in, crouching down beside Avallon. The warmth of the milk seeped through the cup into Avallon’s cold hands.

Neither brother left.

Not when he stayed silent.

Not when his magic crackled faintly with tension.

Sans had eventually sat on the floor too, back against the wall near the bed. Papyrus stayed on the other side of him, a strange but solid shield.

And for the first time that week, Avallon’s SOUL eased, not because he felt safe yet, but because maybe they weren’t going to disappear.

Back in the present, Avallon shifted just enough for his blanket to brush Papyrus’s boot where it hung off the bed. The faint weight of the gesture felt grounding, like an unspoken I know you’re here.

Sans murmured something in his sleep, blanket rustling. Papyrus snored softly, his voice still carrying even in unconsciousness.

Avallon let his eyes close again, drifting back into dreams, not the old kind full of shadows, but ones that began and ended with the warmth of family.

Not the dangerous kind, not the kind Avallon used to fear in the blurry corners of his dreams, where noise meant something was about to break.

No. This was the good kind of chaos.

“PAPYRUUUS! YOUR WAFFLE LAUNCHER IS NOT SAFE FOR KITCHEN USE!”

“IT’S NOT A WAFFLE LAUNCHER, SANS! IT’S A HIGHLY ADVANCED BREAKFAST DELIVERY SYSTEM!”

Avallon stirred in the middle of Sans’s room, still curled between his brothers’ sleeping bags. His blanket was wrapped around him in a snug, fortress-like cocoon. His eye sockets blinked open slowly, the fuzzy edges of sleep giving way to the sound of a thwump! … followed by a damp splort! somewhere down the hall.

A warm, buttery smell drifted in under the door.

…And syrup. Lots of syrup. The kind that could glue your fingers together for hours.

He sat up, dragging his blanket with him like a royal cape. “Mmm… wha’ going on?” he mumbled into the folds of fabric, not really expecting an answer.

That was when it happened, a waffle actually flew past the kitchen doorway. Not tossed. Not dropped. Flew. It spun like a discus before hitting the far wall with a disgruntled splork, sliding down with an unceremonious plop.

“DIRECT HIT!” Papyrus’s triumphant voice echoed through the house.

“Paps,” Sans called back, sounding entirely unimpressed, “you hit the wall. not the plate.”

“THE PLATE MOVED, SANS. DON’T SHIFT THE BLAME!”

Avallon blinked once. Then again.
Another waffle whizzed by.

Still swaddled in his blanket-cape, he shuffled down the hall, curiosity outweighing the part of him that, years ago, would’ve stayed put at the sound of shouting. He peeked around the corner into the kitchen.

Papyrus stood at the counter in full battle chef attire: bright apron, oven mitts, protective goggles, and what could generously be described as a “launcher” essentially a slingshot built from an old spaghetti strainer and enough rubber bands to alarm a safety inspector.

Sans sat at the table, one hand propping up his skull, the other loosely cradling a steaming coffee mug labeled #1 Short Stack Dad-Bro. Syrup dripped lazily from his cranium onto the table. He didn’t look particularly bothered.

“I… I thought we were having pancakes,” Avallon ventured carefully.

Papyrus spun toward him with theatrical flair. “MY DEAR LITTLE BROTHER! BEHOLD: WAFFLE WEDNESDAY! WHICH, TRAGICALLY, FELL UPON A THURSDAY THIS WEEK!”

Sans muttered into his mug, “and this is why the town council won’t let you name holidays anymore.”

Avallon snorted. The sound surprised him, not because he didn’t laugh often now, but because this laugh came from deep, unguarded joy.

Papyrus beamed as if he’d just won a major culinary award. “AHA! A SUCCESS! THE WAFFLE BRIGADE DOES BRING JOY!”

In three long strides, he scooped Avallon up off the floor, spinning him in a dizzy, syrup-scented twirl before setting him down at the table with the grace of a man presenting royalty.

“you okay, kiddo?” Sans asked, ruffling his skull gently.

Avallon nodded, grinning so wide his cheeks ached. “Best morning ever.”

“I KNEW IT!” Papyrus declared, already bustling to prepare a proper plate. “NEEDS MORE WHIPPED CREAM. PERHAPS… WAFFLES SHAPED LIKE TINY SWORDS?”

The morning dissolved into a blur of sweetness and laughter. Syrup puddled on the table. Whipped cream clouds dotted their plates, and the floor. Eventually, someone (probably Papyrus) declared a pancake-eating contest with one strict rule: No Hands Means More Dramatic Flair.

By the time they collapsed back onto the couch, they were sticky, sugar-high, and full of mild regret.

Avallon leaned against Sans, who was trying to clean his syrupy forehead with a damp cloth.

“do not let him near the kitchen tomorrow,” Sans muttered under his breath.

“HEARD THAT!” Papyrus called from the sink.

Avallon giggled again, a warm buzz building in his SOUL. It wasn’t magic. Not yet. But it felt like something close, something that had been waiting a very long time to wake up.

Something green.

Something steady.

Chapter Text

It happened in the soft, hushed heart of Waterfall, far beyond the bustle of Snowdin and the comforting noise of Home.

Avallon sat on the worn stone lip of a small cavern lake, his legs dangling into cool emptiness. The water below shimmered with that otherworldly cyan glow unique to Waterfall, each ripple carrying shifting patterns of light across his skeletal fingers. The air here always smelled faintly of damp stone and sweet moss, and the only sounds were the quiet lap of water and the whispering murmur of echo flowers, repeating memories that belonged to strangers.

Above him, the cavern ceiling arched impossibly high, encrusted with magic-rich crystal. They glittered like a frozen night sky, unchanging yet endless.

This was one of the few places in the Underground that felt… still. Untouched. Safe.

He liked it here.

The world here didn’t demand anything of him. No puzzles to solve. No strangers to smile at. No ghosts from dreams creeping up behind his ribs.

Only… lately, there had been something new.

A sensation in his chest, soft at first, now impossible to ignore. A low, steady thrum, like the faint beat of a second heart. Not painful. Not frightening. Just there. Present with every breath, every faint flicker of his SOUL.

“Ten years old, huh…” Avallon murmured to himself, swinging his legs slowly. His voice felt small in the wide cavern.

Sans had mentioned once that monster children usually formed their Monster Gems around this age, if they were ready.

“monsters form a gem when their magic finally clicks with who they are,” Sans had said one lazy night, half-swallowed by his jacket. “doesn’t gotta be a big dramatic thing. it’s just… real.”

Papyrus, of course, had made it sound like a grand quest.

“IT IS A SACRED RITE OF PASSAGE, YOUNGSTER! WHEN YOUR MAGIC CRYSTALLIZES, YOU WILL GAIN YOUR CATALYST, JUST LIKE ME!”

Back then, Avallon had laughed, thinking it was still years away. He still felt… small. Not ready.

But the thrum under his ribs was louder today.

And as he sat there, surrounded by the patient glow of mushrooms and the illusion of starlight above, the thrum turned into something else.

A call.

His breath caught. His SOUL answered.

Light flared in his ribs, green.
Bright, raw, alive.

He gasped, clutching at his ribs as warmth surged through him. It wasn’t heat that burned, it was heat that bloomed. The glow pressed outward, pulsing in time with his SOUL until the world seemed to hush. Even the echo flowers fell silent.

The air changed.

Green motes began lifting from the mossy ground like fireflies taking flight, twinkling as they rose. The glowing mushrooms seemed to bend their light toward him. The lake’s rippling cyan reflected the new green radiance, painting the cavern in strange, beautiful colors.

In front of his chest, magic curled in on itself, swirling faster and tighter, spinning like a storm in miniature. The glow condensed, taking shape, shimmering like molten crystal before snapping into perfect clarity.

CHIME.

With that clear, ringing note, it crystallized, an emerald sphere, vivid and alive with light. It floated above his palm, weightless, yet warm, as though it had been waiting for him all along.

His breath trembled.

The gem tipped forward, settling into his hand with gentle finality. The moment his fingers curled around it, something unlocked inside him, power, yes, but not the wild kind. It was a steady power, anchored by something deeper: purpose.

A sudden, gentle wind stirred the cavern, tugging at his sweater, making the echo flowers sway. The lake surface danced with moving light.

And then—

“AVALLON?!”

Two voices, sharp with urgency.

Papyrus’s scarf appeared first, streaming behind him as he bounded in. Sans was right on his heels, his sockets wide, a faint flicker of blue magic in his hands just in case.

“what’s goin’ on—” Sans began, but then stopped cold.

They both did.

Avallon turned toward them, the green light still spilling from his SOUL, the gem pressed to his chest. “I… I think… I think it happened,” he whispered.

Papyrus’s gasp echoed off the walls. “YOUR GEM! YOU’VE GAINED YOUR GEM!”

Sans’s grin was small, but steady, an expression Avallon had learned meant he was really proud. “well, kid… look at you.”

Avallon’s voice wavered. “D-does this mean I’m… r-really a monster?”

Sans crouched, tapping his skull gently. “oh bud… you always were.”

Papyrus didn’t even wait for more words. He swept Avallon into a rib-crushing hug that smelled faintly of flour and snow.

“WE MUST CELEBRATE! GEM AWAKENING CAKE! GEM AWAKENING BANNERS! A GEM AWAKENING PARADE!”

Avallon laughed, breathless, teary, holding the gem tight.

And somewhere deep in the cavern, the echo flowers awoke again, repeating his words in soft, lilting voices:

“I think it happened.”

“I’m really a monster.”

“Look at you.”

Later that night, their little house in Snowdin was a glowing pocket of warmth against the frost outside. Snow sifted quietly past the windows, catching the amber light spilling from the curtains, while laughter curled through the hallways like music carried on a soft wind.

Papyrus had burst through the door in a flurry of energy the moment they’d arrived home, already halfway into “EMERGENCY CELEBRATION MODE.” He marched in tight circles around the living room, clipboard in hand, muttering furiously to himself while occasionally stopping to scribble something in impossibly big letters.

“WE REQUIRE CAKE! YOUR FAVORITE BLACKBERRY OFCOURSE! YES, DEFINITELY CAKE! AND SPARKLES, LOTS OF SPARKLES! PERHAPS A BANNER THAT SAYS ‘CONGRATULATIONS ON BEING MAGICAL!’, NO, WAIT, A CLOAK! YES, A CLOAK!”

Avallon blinked from where he was perched on the couch, legs tucked beneath him, still holding the emerald in both hands as though it might dissolve into air if he let go. “A cloak?” he echoed softly.

“YES! A FANCY ONE! A HERO’S CLOAK!” Papyrus swept across the room in a dramatic arc, his scarf fluttering like a comet’s tail. “AFTER ALL, A GEM WITHOUT A GLORIOUS FRAME TO PRESENT IT IS BUT A PEBBLE HIDING IN THE SNOW!”

From the kitchen doorway, Sans leaned lazily against the frame, mug in hand, and smirked faintly. He gave Avallon a light nudge with his elbow. “what he means, kid, is… we wanna get you somethin’ special. somethin’ that keeps the gem close to your heart.”

Avallon glanced down at the emerald cradled in his palms. The green light inside it pulsed faintly, like it was breathing with him. He looked back up at both of them, chewing his lip.

“…C-can I make it into a pin t-then?”

The thought had been there the moment Papyrus said “cloak.” Just like Sans’s own sapphire pin tucked under his jacket. Just like the bright, star-shaped jasper fixed proudly to Papyrus’s scarf.

His brothers wore their Gems where anyone could see them, not just as ornaments, but as open declarations of self. Avallon wanted that too.

“I want it shaped like a t-teardrop,” he said at last, his voice small but steady. “B-because… because I’m not sad anymore. But I still r-remember what it was like to be a-alone.”

Sans’s grin softened into something quieter. His eye lights warmed.

Papyrus’s whirlwind energy stilled for a moment, replaced by something gentler, an expression that brimmed with pride but carried an undertone of deep, wordless understanding.

“THEN A TEARDROP IT SHALL BE,” Papyrus declared, his voice grand but thick with feeling. “NOT ONE OF SORROW, BUT ONE OF STRENGTH!”

The next day, Snowdin’s cold air bit pleasantly at their faces as they made the trip to Hotland, where steam rose in curling clouds from vents in the streets. They found the Gemsmith’s stall tucked between a lantern-maker and a hot tea vendor, its front glowing with soft enchanted light.

The old golem type monster who ran it was bent with age, his stone surface weathered and flecked with mica. Rows of gleaming fittings and settings sat behind enchanted glass, each reflecting back a dozen tiny rainbows.

“Ahhh, a teardrop cut?” the gemsmith wheezed after peering at the emerald. He polished his monocle with a cloth that looked almost as old as he was. “Beautiful choice, young one. Will the frame be gold or silver?”

“Silver,” Avallon answered quickly, standing on tiptoe to see over the counter. “B-but soft silver, not s-shiny. Like… like the light in W-Waterfall.”

The golem paused, smiling faintly. “You’ve got a poet’s soul. Give me half an hour.”

While the gemsmith worked, Sans steered him down a quieter lane until they found a little cloak shop wedged between a pottery store and a bakery that smelled like cinnamon and sugar. Inside, the walls were lined with cloaks of every style imaginable, battle cloaks with reinforced shoulders, traveler’s cloaks with deep hidden pockets, spark-studded ones that practically shouted Papyrus, and thick woolen ones meant for Snowdin’s endless winters.

Avallon drifted toward the back, fingertips brushing over fabric until they caught on one in particular.

It was deep purple with a velvety sheen, the kind of color that seemed to drink in the light. The hood was wide, lined with snowy-white false fur that reminded him of the edge of Sans’s jacket. The fabric was thick, but when he touched it, it flowed like water.

“…This one,” he whispered.

Sans’s grin tilted. “nice taste, kid.”

That evening, back in Snowdin, Papyrus nearly combusted when he saw it. He insisted on tying a dramatic silver ribbon around Avallon’s middle before finally being persuaded that perhaps the ribbon was “A NEXT TIME FLOURISH.”

By the time the gemsmith’s package arrived, the fire was crackling in the hearth and the whole room glowed in soft amber light.

Inside the small velvet-lined box was the finished pin: the emerald now cut into a smooth, graceful teardrop, cradled in a frame of soft silver shaped like curling vines. The back was fitted with a sturdy clasp.

Sans crouched to Avallon’s level, careful hands fastening the pin to the front clasp of the new cloak, right over his heart. “there,” he said quietly. “looks good on ya, bud.”

Papyrus, unable to hold back, dabbed at the corner of his eye socket with one dramatic finger. “IT LOOKS AMAZING!”

Avallon turned to the mirror.

The cloak wrapped around him like it had been waiting for him all along. The teardrop gem caught the firelight and glowed with the same steady green as his SOUL. And for the first time, he didn’t feel like a piece out of place in someone else’s puzzle.

He looked like himself.

A Monster.

A brother.

Someone who belonged.

He stepped forward and hugged them both, tight. The warmth of the fire and the gem at his chest seemed to melt into one, the silver vines holding it not just in place, but in home.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick but steady.

Papyrus squeezed him back, nearly lifting him off the floor. Sans just rested a hand on the back of his hood, the way he did when words weren’t needed.

Outside, the snow kept falling. Inside, Avallon’s world felt whole.

The snow outside drifted in slow spirals, the kind that made the whole of Snowdin feel like it was trapped inside a snow globe someone had just tipped gently in their hands.

In the clearing near their home, one Papyrus had triumphantly dubbed years ago the “TRAINING GROUND OF HEROES!” the air smelled faintly of pine and cold stone. Snow crunched underfoot, the world wrapped in that soft, muffled quiet that came before the next flurry.

The skele-bros stood shoulder to shoulder at the far end, jacket, scarf, and cloak snapping in the crisp wind. Between them, their newest trainee bounced on the balls of his feet, emerald pin catching every stray bit of light from the pale winter sun. His breath fogged in quick little puffs, excitement and nerves tangling in his chest.

“ALRIGHT, YOUNG MONSTER!” Papyrus bellowed, stamping the end of his war hammer into the snow. A warm orange pulse rolled out from the impact, shivering the icicles hanging from nearby branches. “TODAY, YOU SHALL TRAIN ALONGSIDE THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AND THE SLIGHTLY LESS TALL SANS!”

“heyyy, rude,” Sans drawled, one eye light winking. With a lazy flick of his wrist, a glowing blue knife shimmered into being beside him, spinning slowly in the air like it was waiting for instructions. “...but fair.”

Avallon giggled, the sound light and bright against the cold air.

He took a breath, then looked down at his hands. Magic gathered under his skin, green and bright, tugging toward the emerald at his chest like a heartbeat answering another. And then, there it was. A weight filled his grip, sudden but right.

The polearm appeared in a shimmer of frost, long and slender, topped with a curved blade shaped like a frost-covered leaf. Its edge glinted in soft blues and silvers, a skin of delicate ice spiderwebbing across its surface.

The cold that rushed through him wasn’t cruel, it was the deep, ancient stillness of a frozen lake under moonlight. It settled into his bones like an old memory.

Sans’s earlier words drifted back:
“figures. the way you...passed… cold and alone… sometimes magic remembers things even when you can’t.”

It no longer hurt to hear. Not today.

Today, that same cold was his.

Training began with the basics.

Papyrus was relentless about stances, striding in front of him like a general before his troops.

“YOUR POSTURE IS ESSENTIAL!” he declared, striking a stance so dramatic it made the snow puff out from his boots. “A SLOPPY STANCE LEADS TO A DROPPED HAMMER AND A TRAGIC, HUMILIATING FACE-FIRST LANDING IN MUDDY SNOW!”

Avallon adjusted his feet, wobbling at first under the weight of the polearm, then slowly finding his center. The moment his boots settled into the snow and his arms felt steady, his chest swelled with pride.

Sans took over next, flipping his knife into the air where it split into five glowing copies. They spun in a slow orbit around him like little comets.

Avallon learned to send waves of frost through the polearm’s blade, fanning them out in crescents of snow and ice. Once, he accidentally froze Papyrus’s foot to the ground, Papyrus declared it “A VALIANT FIRST STRIKE!” before promptly toppling into a snowbank. Sans, not to be outdone, levitated a dummy midair so Avallon could smash it to stuffing in one swing. Papyrus celebrated the “victory” by tossing a fistful of sparkles into the wind.

Through it all, the emerald gleamed against his chest, every pulse of light reminding him that this was his magic, his weapon, his power.

That night, curled up on the couch between his brothers under a thick blanket, the fire painting their faces in gold, Avallon let the last of the cold seep from his bones. His polearm was gone now, drawn back into the emerald’s glow, waiting.

The chill in his chest wasn’t loneliness anymore.

It was strength.

It was pride.

It was home.

Chapter Text

Avallon lay sprawled on his bed, gently thrumming his guitar Sans found in the Dump, creating a soft, hollow rhythm. He hummed along to a tune only he seemed to know, eye sockets closed as the beat echoed through his bones.

It had been five years since he moved into the new house with Sans and Papyrus, six whole years of safety, laughter, and warmth. A year almost passed since his Crysalith awakened, glowing with the quiet power of his magic. Things were good... or, at least, they should’ve been.

But lately, Avallon had started to notice the changes.

Papyrus had grown even more excitable, almost overly so. He'd become a stickler for routine, obsessively cleaning, scheduling, and monitoring every detail of their daily lives. He was a bit of a control freak now, but Avallon didn’t mind. If anything, he found it endearing. It made Papyrus feel safe, and that was all that mattered.

It was Sans who worried him.

His oldest brother had always been lazy, that wasn’t new, but something had shifted. The naps grew longer. The jokes less frequent. He was distant now, eye lights sunken with exhaustion even when he was awake. It was like he was carrying something invisible… something heavy.

Sans still smiled, especially around him and Papyrus, but Avallon could see it. The cracks were showing.

With a quiet sigh, Avallon gently put the guitar aside and rolled off the bed. He stood, stretching his arms and spine until he heard a satisfying pop. Boredom crept in, and the silence of the house didn’t help.

Maybe I can get Sans to take me to see Alphys? he thought. It had been forever since he last saw her. She’d isolated herself in the lab again. He was worried about her too. The past few years hadn’t been kind to anyone.

He padded over to Sans’s room and gave a few light knocks.

“Sans?!”

There was some faint shuffling, followed by the creak of a door opening. Sans appeared, rubbing the spot just beneath his left eye socket. His fluffy fuchsia slippers scuffed against the floor as he leaned against the doorframe.

Avallon sighed at the sight of him. It was already past three in the afternoon, and Sans still looked half-asleep.

“S-seriously?” Avallon mumbled. “You’re still sleeping?”

Sans gave a lazy shrug, yawning. “what’s up, baby bones?”

“I wanna go s-see Alphys,” Avallon said firmly, hands on his hips.

Sans blinked slowly. Then he sighed and gave a tired nod. “alright… lemme grab my jacket, and we’ll head out.”

Avallon instantly perked up, bouncing on his heels like a hyper puppy. While Sans shuffled back into his room, Avallon peeked inside and cringed. It was a disaster zone, piles of socks, books, and… was that a half-eaten ketchup bottle under the bed?

He wasn’t a clean freak or anything, but the mess made his bone itch.

Moments later, Sans emerged, zipping up his trademark blue jacket, Crysalith pinned on its usual spot under the false fur, the fluffy white collar ruffled from neglect.

“okay, let’s roll.”

He reached out a hand, and Avallon quickly slipped his own into it. As always, he closed his sockets before the familiar tug of shortcut magic pulled him through space.

When he opened them again, the cold steel walls of the lab surrounded them.

“Alphys!” Sans called out, his voice echoing through the empty corridors. “brought the kid by!”

Silence.

Avallon frowned and took a cautious step forward. The lab was darker than usual, save for a flickering console light near the back.

“Alphys?” he tried again, quieter.

There was no answer.

Both skeletons stilled, a cold, unfamiliar tension settling in their bones. Alphys always answered, usually with a startled yelp followed by a long-winded rant about Sans’s “Complete and utter disregard for lab security.” But now… there was only silence.

A dead, unnatural silence.

Sans’s grip on Avallon’s hand tightened protectively, his sockets narrowing. The young skeleton glanced up at him, nerves prickling under his skull. Without a word, Sans stepped forward, carefully guiding Avallon as they searched the lab, first the ground floor, then slowly making their way up the escalators, the tension growing thicker with every step.

And then they saw it.

“No…” Avallon whimpered, his voice breaking as he ducked into the safety of his brother’s jacket, trying to hide from the truth unraveling before his eyes.

A small pile of dust surrounded by shattered remains of a Crysalith.

A small pile of dust with Alphys’s white lab coat lay crumpled on top of it.

Sans immediately pulled Avallon close, shielding his little brother from the scene, wrapping him in the curve of his arms like a barrier against the cruelty of the world.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Surprised? You shouldn't be!”

The voice slithered into the room, high-pitched and playful. Mocking. Avallon flinched at the sound. He slowly turned his head toward the source, his sockets wide with shock.

There, nestled among golden petals, was him. That flower. That thing with the grinning face.

“You…” Sans growled, venom dripping from his voice.

“Golly! You look mad,” Flowey snickered, his grin stretching unnaturally wide. “Not happy to see me, Smiley Trash Bag?”

Sans’s left eye flared with an ominous blue-and-yellow glow. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as a gust of wind howled through. Behind him, a massive Gaster Blaster materialized with a low growl, glowing with deadly intent. Around them, a fleet of bones and knives hovered, sharp, silent, threatening.

Avallon gasped, realizing what was about to happen. Panic rose in his chest.

“W-wait! Stop!” he shouted, leaping from his brother’s arms and placing himself between Sans and the flower.

The Gaster Blaster faltered and the bones faded. But the knives remained locked in place, jittering slightly with Sans's trembling restraint.

“Babybones…” Sans whispered, his voice brittle. “that thing… it dusted Alphys…”

“H-how do you know that?” Avallon demanded, trembling. “He's j-just a flower! H-how could he even hurt Alphys? A-and why would he?!”

“because he’s done it before!” Sans shouted, his voice cracking. “again, and again, and again. now get away from it!”

Avallon blinked, stunned. "Done it before?" That didn’t make sense. Monsters only died once, everyone knew that. They hadn’t heard of any other deaths, and if something like this had happened before, he’d know… wouldn’t he?

“W-what do you mea- ARGH!”

His words dissolved into a blood-curdling scream as a searing pain exploded through his chest. His knees buckled. The world tipped sideways.

“IDIOT!” Flowey cackled. “Should’ve listened to your big bro, brat!”

Avallon swallowed hard and forced his head down, dread pooling in his nonexistent gut.

A thick, thorned vine was speared clean through his ribcage, pulsing with sickly green light.

His vision blurred, black spots flickering across his sight. He looked up, gasping, and saw Sans frozen several feet away. His brother’s glowing eye had gone dark. He stood rigid, his jaw slack, the light in his sockets extinguished.

Avallon opened his mouth to call for him, but only a faint, rattling wheeze escaped, a gush of bone marrow staining the floor.

The vine ripped itself free, and Avallon’s body arched in agony. He collapsed forward, but he never hit the floor.

Strong arms caught him. Sans dropped to his knees, holding him like fragile glass.

“B-babybones… stay with me! C’mon, kiddo… hang in there, please—!”

Sans's voice trembled with a kind of desperation Avallon had never heard before. A broken, unraveling sound that made his own pain feel small.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this, you weed!” Sans roared. “You won’t get away with this!”

Flowey only laughed.

“And if you do kill me? I’ll just RESET! Again and again and again! I’ll keep doing it until I’m bored! And there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Avallon’s body had gone numb. He couldn't feel his arms anymore. He couldn’t even feel his bones, just the fading flicker of his soul, pulsing like a candle struggling against the wind.

“S-Sa…” he tried to say. But the word never formed.

His sockets slipped closed.

And everything went black.

“No. Nononononono—”

Sans’s voice cracked as he cradled Avallon’s limp body in his arms. His baby brother, his babybones, was completely still now, his breathing faint, his sockets shut tight, his soul flickering so dimly Sans could barely feel it anymore.

“C’mon, kid… hang in there… please—”

His bones shook as he tried to hold the boy together. Tried to pour magic into his soul. Tried to will him to stay. But he could already feel it. The connection slipping. The warmth fading. It felt like Avallon’s essence was being drained from his very arms.

“I promised I’d protect you…” Sans whispered, his voice hollow. “I promised…”

Sans caught him, but there was nothing solid to hold anymore. The bones in his arms dissolved into dust. All that was left was the soft residue slipping between his fingers and the faint flicker of a shattered SOUL vanishing into the void.

“I should’ve kept you out of this… I should’ve sent you home, should’ve never brought you to the lab, should’ve never let you get anywhere near that damn weed—!”

Flowey’s grin widened, watching from a distance, smug and untouched by the devastation he'd caused.

“Oh wow. You really are soft,” the flower sneered. “A couple resets ago, you didn’t even flinch when Papyrus went down. But this one? This one hurts, huh?”

Sans slowly turned, his sockets blazing. For a moment, just a moment, he looked like something older, colder, and far more dangerous than any lazy skeleton from Snowdin.

“You think this is a game?” he growled, magic humming so violently in the air it made the walls of the lab tremble.

“To me, it is!” Flowey sang. “And guess what?”

The vines around him curled upward gleefully. Time itself seemed to waver, like the air around them was starting to fold.

“I’m bored of this timeline now. Let’s try again, shall we?”

“No—!”

But it was too late.

Sans lunged forward, blasters flaring, knives poised to strike, raw fury and grief behind every step.

But the light around Flowey pulsed, golden, unnatural, infinite.

And the world shattered.

Everything reset.

Avallon lay sprawled across his bed, one socked foot hanging off the edge, fingers idly plucking his guitar strings. The notes were soft and muted, more rhythm than melody, each plink sinking into the stillness of his room. He hummed under his breath, barely aware of the tune, letting the quiet echo fill the corners of the space.

It had been five years since he’d moved into this little house with Sans and Papyrus. Six since they’d first called him their little brother. In that time, he’d grown, just a little taller, just a little older, and he’d begun noticing the ways they had changed, too.

Papyrus was easy to read. If anything, he’d only gotten more Papyrus with time, more excitable, more dedicated to his puzzles and his cooking experiments, more enthusiastic about dragging Avallon into whatever over-the-top plan he’d dreamed up that day. There was comfort in that predictability.

But Sans…

Sans was different.

He’d always been laid-back, but lately his slouch seemed heavier. He slept more than ever, not just naps in his chair, but disappearing behind his bedroom door for hours, sometimes days, without a sound. When he was around, he still cracked jokes and gave that same lazy grin, but Avallon had started to notice how the grin didn’t quite reach his eye lights anymore. There was something dimmer there. Something tired. Something that made Avallon’s chest ache if he thought about it too long.

He gave his guitar a final, absent-minded strum and rolled off the bed, landing with a soft thump. The guitar bounced on the mattress behind him. He was restless. Maybe he could drag Sans out of whatever fog he was in, convince him to take a shortcut to Alphys’s lab so they could binge anime like they used to. He hadn’t seen her in a while either, and for some reason, that left a strange twist in his stomach.

Padding down the hall, he rapped lightly on Sans’s door.

“Sans?”

Silence.

Avallon tilted his head, frowned, and knocked again, louder this time. “C’mon, you in t-there?”

Nothing.

“…Guess he’s not home,” he murmured, his voice soft and uncertain. “P-probably at Grillby’s…”

He turned away, shoulders slumping just a little, and headed toward the stairs. The house felt… still. Too still. The kind of quiet that seemed to listen back, the kind that made you think of bad dreams you couldn’t quite shake.

At the window, he paused, peeking out. Snow was falling in lazy spirals, the hush of Snowdin settling over the world like a blanket. The steady, familiar sight calmed him enough to take a slow breath.

Maybe Papyrus was in the living room working on puzzles. Avallon could go join him, help him out, distract himself until Sans came home.

Upstairs, behind that closed door, Sans hadn’t been asleep at all.

He stood frozen in place, the weight of the last reset still clinging to him like ice in his bones. His breathing was shallow. His hands flexed uselessly at his sides.

It had been one of those loops.

Dust on the wind.

Screams echoing until they cut off too fast.

Avallon’s SOUL, flickering, fading—

—and then nothing.

The flower had done it again.

He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, skull in his hands. The memories weren’t clear, not all of them, but they didn’t have to be. He’d felt it. The loss. The tearing-away. And now here they were again, all of it rewound to some earlier point, as if nothing had happened at all.

Avallon’s footsteps passed by his door. The kid didn’t remember. He never remembered. None of them did.

Only Sans carried it forward.

And each time, the cracks in him spread a little further.

“…stupid flower,” he muttered, the words flat, his voice almost too quiet for even the walls to hear.

He stayed there for a long moment, staring at the floor, before finally pushing himself upright. His grin slid into place like a mask he knew by heart.

He couldn’t let either of his brothers see it, the truth, the weight, the way his SOUL hurt. Not yet. Not while there were still moments to laugh. Not while there was still time to make memories the kid would actually keep.

Even if that time would always run out.

He stepped into the hall, shoulders loose, footsteps casual, and headed downstairs, his grin ready, his voice light, like nothing had happened at all.

Chapter Text

Avallon giggled as he sprinted out of the school building, his small purple backpack bouncing wildly with every step. The end-of-day bell still echoed in the air behind him, but he was already halfway down the snowy path, excitement bubbling in his chest.

His class had been held in the libarby again today, a cozy space tucked between the old classrooms and the magic labs. Since there were so few monsters his age in Snowdin, his grade only had five students total. But Avallon didn’t mind. It made the lessons feel more personal, more like the homeschooling he’d grown up with… except now he had friends, too.

And today was magic day, which meant they'd gotten to study, SOUL magic, spell control, and Crysalith-based abilities! He couldn't wait to show his big brothers what he’d learned.

He waved goodbye to Monster Kid and Fuku Fire as the three reached Grillby’s, their usual afterschool meeting spot. They had walked the same path for nearly a year now, ever since Avallon had received his Crysalith and officially started school.

It had become a comfortable rhythm: after classes, Avallon would meet Sans at Grillby’s. The two of them would take one of Sans’s shortcuts back to his sentry station. There, they’d do homework, throw snowballs at passing ice wolves, and joke around until Papyrus arrived after his patrol to walk them both home.

When Avallon spotted his oldest brother already lounging outside the building, sipping ketchup straight from the bottle, his grin widened.

“Sans!!” he squealed, throwing himself into his brother’s arms with no hesitation.

Sans chuckled and caught him with ease, lifting the small skeleton up onto his back in a well-practiced motion. Avallon snuggled into the soft fur lining of Sans’s jacket, the smell of hotcats, ketchup, and faint winter clinging to the fabric like a safety blanket.

“hey there, kiddo. have fun at school?” Sans asked, shifting his bottle to one hand as he prepared to teleport.

“Yeah!” Avallon nodded eagerly, muffling the sound into his brother’s shoulder.

“We got t-to learn about summoning magic t-today!” he added, just as the shortcut whooshed around them, cold, compressed space wrapping them briefly before depositing them beside the familiar snow-dusted sentry station.

Sans gave him a sideways grin. “must’ve been a magical experience.”

Avallon giggled. “A-and guess what, Sans!”

“what?”

“You gotta g-guess!”

Sans tilted his skull with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “you fell asleep in class?”

“Nope!”

“you turned your teacher’s handbag into bunny again?”

“Nu-uh!” Avallon giggled harder. “T-try again!”

“hmm… someone blew up and transformed into a super hero?”

Avallon gasped in mock offense and bonked the back of Sans’s skull with a small fist. “Now you’re j-just being silly, Sans!”

In response, Sans’s eye glowed a familiar pale blue, and in a flash, Avallon found himself gently suspended in midair, floating upside down in Sans’s magic grip as his older brother took his usual seat behind the station sign.

“Sa-aans!” he whined, arms flailing as his cloak puffed up around him like the imitation of wings.

Sans leaned on one elbow, eye half-lidded with amusement. “what? i’m just hanging out. thought you might want to join.”

“Fine! I’ll tell you! J-just let me down!”

“tell me first.”

Avallon puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms, at least as best he could while upside down. “I got g-green magic!”

Sans blinked once, then gave a low, approving whistle. “congrats, kiddo. healer magic, huh? you’re officially a healer now. we should put you on Pap’s spaghetti survival squad.”

Avallon grinned proudly. “T-there, I told you. Now let me down!”

Sans shrugged. “naw.”

“Please.”

"Nah."

"I'll give you my d-dessert tonight!"

“hmm... naw, just keep hanging in there, kid.”

“Saaaans!”

His squeaky protest echoed through the snowy woods, met only with the sound of Sans chuckling and the distant crunch of ice wolves hauling another cart of snow.

“Saaaans!! Put me down before Papyrus sees—!”

“too late, bro.”

The unmistakable sound of heavy, confident footsteps crunched through the snow just as a familiar, booming voice echoed across the frosty clearing.

“NYEH HEH HEH! SANS! AVALLO—Oh MY BONES, WHAT IN THE NAME OF STARS IS HAPPENING HERE?!”

Avallon squawked as he twisted in the air, cheeks somehow flushing despite his skeletal nature. “Papyrus!”

Papyrus gasped dramatically, hands flying to his cheeks. “SANS, DID YOU BREAK OUR BABY BROTHER?!”

“nope. just testing his center of gravity. turns out he's got great balance. see? he hasn’t even panicked yet.” Sans waved lazily, one eye glowing with mirth.

“YOU DROP HIM THIS INSTANT, YOU LAZYBONES!” Papyrus huffed, stomping over and poking Sans squarely in the ribs. “AVALLON, ARE YOU OKAY?! DID HE TANGLE YOUR MAGIC ESSENCE? DO YOU FEEL LOPSIDED?!”

Avallon giggled mid-spin. “I’m okay! I p-promise!”

Sans finally released his hold, gently lowering the child until Avallon’s boots crunched softly into the snow beside them. He wobbled slightly before running to wrap his arms around Papyrus’s waist.

“Papy! I was told I got g-green magic today!”

Papyrus froze, just for a second, and then his eye sockets widened with sparkling stars practically glowing in them.

“WHAT?! TRULY?! GREEN MAGIC?! THE LEGENDARY POWER OF PROTECTION AND HEALING?”

“Yea!” Avallon beamed. “I healed a classmate in class today! It w-was slow but the teacher said it was really strong for a first try!”

“THIS IS… THIS IS… MAGNIFICENT!!” Papyrus scooped him up into the air like a heroic prize, spinning in a joyful circle that kicked up snow all around them. “OH, MY DEAREST TINY BROTHER, YOU ARE DESTINED FOR GREATNESS!”

“told ya. kid’s gonna be a healer before we know it.” Sans quipped from behind the sign, chin still propped on one hand.

“I MUST ALERT THE ENTIRE UNDERGROUND!” Papyrus declared dramatically, holding Avallon like Simba from The Lion King. “A GREAT MILESTONE HAS BEEN MET! OUR BROTHER HAS AWAKENED HIS CRYSALITH AND NOW POSSESSES THE POWER OF GREEN MAGIC! UNDYNE MUST KNOW. METTATON MUST KNOW. I MUST BAKE A CAKE. SANS, MAKE A BANNER!”

Avallon giggled uncontrollably as Papyrus continued to parade him around the station.

“Papy! You don’t hav'ta t-tell everyone!” he laughed.

“NONESENSE! THIS IS A PROPER CAUSE FOR CELEBRATION!”

“maybe not a full party. last time you tried that, the spaghetti cannon backfired.”

Papyrus gave Sans a deadpan look. “THAT WAS A DESIGN FLAW AND YOU KNOW IT.”

He set Avallon down carefully, kneeling so they were at eye level. “But In All Seriousness, Avallon... I’m So Proud Of You.”

Avallon blinked. Papyrus’s voice had gone soft, tender. His tall brother’s glowing eyes flickered gently like candlelight as he reached out to straighten the cloak Avallon wore.

“Your Magic Is A Gift, But The Kindness And Strength In Your Soul, That’s What Truly Makes It Shine.”

Avallon sniffled and wiped his face. “Thanks, Papy...”

“Now! Let Us Return Home And Prepare A Meal Worthy Of This Milestone!” Papyrus declared, rising with heroic flair. “SANS, YOU’RE ON BANNER DUTY! I EXPECT CONFETTI!”

“ugh. fine. but only if I get out of dish duty.”

“WE SHALL DISCUSS TERMS AFTER DINNER.”

As they began the walk home together, Avallon in the middle holding both their hands, the snowy path seemed to sparkle just a little brighter than usual. Between the warmth of his brothers and the gentle glow of the new gem on his chest, Avallon felt like his soul might burst with happiness.

And maybe... just maybe... green magic wasn’t only just about healing. Maybe it was also about love.

Flash.

"B-BUT STILL, I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BIT BETTER, EVEN IF YOU D-DON'T THINK SO! I-I PROMISE!"

Flash.

Blank red eyes. A dust-covered blue sweater.

A knife clenched tight in their shaking fists.

They walked away without a word.
Sans staggered through the trees just in time to see—

A orange scarf lay at his feet, torn and soaked in dust, remains of shattered Gem surrounded it.

P A P Y R U S !   N O !

"P-Pappy... S-Sans..."

Green eye lights wide with fear. Pain. Betrayal.

He stumbled away from the words, from the voice, from the D I R T Y   B R O T H E R   K I L L E R who wasn’t supposed to exist.

Crimson eyes glared back at him, filled with cold disdain.

Sans's feet wouldn’t move. Why wouldn’t they move?!

"S-Sans...!"

The little monster in the purple with green striped sweater collapsed forward, clutching at the bleeding wound across his chest.

A SOUL, small pale green with pink-edged, shivered like a candle in the wind.

"I-I'm sorry—!"

He reached out—

And then turned to DUST.

Right there in front of him.

He was just a kid.

And Sans could do nothing. Not a thing.
Just watch.

NO!

N O !

"Pap- Papyrus... Ava- vallon... y- you want anything?"

A whisper. A plea.

RESET .

•

••

•••

••

•

"Sans! Wake up!"

He jolted upright with a cry, his breath ragged and uneven. Tears streamed freely down his skull as the room snapped into focus.

This was his room.

No dust. No blood. No knives.

And standing there, frightened and rumpled purple hand-me-down hoodie he use as pajama, was Avallon, his little brother. Very much alive.

"...Sans? Are you okay?" His voice trembled.

Sans couldn’t answer. He lifted a shaky hand and pressed it over his eye sockets, trying, failing, to hide the tears as they spilled out. His soul ached like it had been torn in two again.

The mattress dipped. A cold, tiny body snuggled close against him.

He flinched, but only for a second, before relaxing into the contact.

"D-Do you wanna talk about it?" Avallon whispered, voice cracking with worry.

Sans shook his head, silent.

He let one hand fall away and gripped the sleeve of Avallon’s hoodie tightly, like a lifeline.

A small skull nestled under his chin. Thin arms wrapped around him with trembling determination.

"Can I... sleep here with you tonight?" Avallon asked.

Sans didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. He just pulled his baby brother a little closer. His breathing steadied. Slowly. Carefully.

He could still feel phantom dust on his hands.

But Avallon was warm. Real. Alive.
And so was Papyrus.

Was the kid playing games again? Were they toying with him like always?

He didn’t know.

But for tonight…

“...ok.”

And in that quiet, shared silence, the nightmare loosened its grip, just a little.

Artificial light filtered gently through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the room. The air was still, save for the faint ticking of a clock and the occasional sleepy mumble from one of the bundled skeletons tangled in the bed.

Avallon was curled up like a sleepy kitten, nestled securely under Sans's arm. His skull rested on his brother's chest, his favorite blanket half-draped across them both. One of his arms had somehow wormed under Sans's jacket, gripping the fabric like a safety blanket. Sans, for once, wasn't snoring. His breathing was quiet, steady, peaceful.

The bedroom door creaked open.

“GOOD MORNING, BROTHER! I HAVE PREPARED A MIGHTY—”

Papyrus froze in the doorway, voice caught mid-declaration. His sockets blinked once. Twice.

“…Breakfast.”

The scene before him was nothing short of heart-melting.

Sans, notoriously difficult to rouse, was still completely out. But his arm was wrapped protectively around Avallon, who looked even smaller than usual in the oversized hoodie he'd probably borrowed from one of them. They were both buried under a mess of tangled blankets, only a pair of socked feet and bony fingers peeking out.

Papyrus placed a hand over his ribcage and sighed dramatically.

“Oh… My Poor Brothers…”

He stepped inside, his voice dropping to a fond whisper as he approached the bed. “You Both Look Like You've Been Through A Nightmare Starring Annoying Dogs And Overcooked Spaghetti.”

He crouched beside the bed and gently adjusted the corner of the blanket over Avallon's shoulder, tucking him in with exaggerated care.

"There. The Great Papyrus Shall Let You Rest… Just This Once."

He was about to stand up and leave when Avallon stirred, blinking blearily at him.

“P…Pappy?”

His voice was hoarse, groggy.

“Hello, Avallon,” Papyrus whispered, kneeling down to eye level. “I See You Have Taken Refuge In The Lair Of The Lazybones.”

“Mmhm…” Avallon rubbed his eyes. “Sans… had a nightmare.”

Papyrus’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. His eyes softened.

“I See.”

He reached out and gently brushed a hand over his brother’s skull.

“Then I’m Glad You Were Here For Him.”

Avallon gave a sleepy nod, and, without much warning, reached one arm toward Papyrus, clearly asking for a hug. Papyrus hesitated only a moment before carefully leaning forward and wrapping both his little brothers into a careful embrace.

"My Brothers…" he whispered with exaggerated theatrics. “So Small… So Skeletiny… So Full Of Emotional Complexity!”

Sans gave a half-snore, half-groan at that. “Paps… too loud…”

“Whoops! Apologies, Oh Sleepy One!” Papyrus grinned. “I Shall Withdraw… And Make Pancakes.”

“Yay…” Avallon murmured.

Papyrus stood, puffing out his chest. “Yes, That’s Right! Fluffybone-Flipper-Flipping Pancakes. No Spaghetti This Morning, Though I Make No Promises For Lunch!”

He turned to march out, his scarf trailing heroically behind him. But at the door, he paused again, glancing back at the two curled-up skeletons.

The smile faded just enough to show something gentler beneath.

“…I’m Glad You’re Both Okay,” he murmured, almost too softly to hear.

Then the door clicked shut behind him.

Chapter Text

🚨🚨🚨
*ATTENTION TO ALL FELLOW INDONESIAN CITIZENS*

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, I would like to inform all fellow Indonesian citizens, whether in Jakarta, Bandung, Surabaya, Makassar, Yogyakarta, Semarang, or other areas holding demonstrations, to reduce their outdoor. 

The current situation is very threatening for all of us, and even permits to use weapons have been granted by superiors, and there is concern that mass shootings have occurred, resulting in many casualties. Therefore, once again, I ask that you reduce your outdoor activities, and refrain from participating in demonstrations if you are underage, especially women, who have reported numerous cases of kidnapping and harassment by certain demonstrators.

Thank you for your attention, and I apologize if this information deviates from my usual update schedule. Because the current situation in Indonesia is very urgent, I want everyone outside of Indonesia to hear this news, and we need the voices of people outside of Indonesia. We, the people of Indonesia, will continue to vote for our government until our voices are heard and we win. STAY SAFE‼️

Chapter Text

He stood on the steps outside the Grillby's, frowning as he adjusted the hood of his cloak higher over his head. The familiar weight of his Crysalith shifted against his chest with the motion. The air felt colder than usual, not the kind that settled on your bones in Snowdin, but the kind that pressed against your soul like a warning.

Still, trying to shake off the unease, Avallon set off toward the forested path leading out of town, the shortcut road that Sans and Papyrus usually patrolled together.

He hadn't gone far when a familiar bark rang out through the trees, followed by a blur of white fur that collided with him at full speed.

"Buddy!" Avallon laughed as he toppled backward into the snow, arms full of squirming fluff. "H-hey! Watch it, that tickles—!"

Annoying Dog yipped excitedly, licking his cheek as the young monster giggled and gave him a nuzzle in return.

"I'm looking f-for Sans and Papyrus," Avallon said between giggles. "Do you know w-where they are?"

The white dog barked once in affirmation, tail wagging furiously.

With a small, excited hop, the dog wriggled out of Avallon's arms and looked back at him with a doggy grin, clearly beckoning him to follow.

"Okay, okay, I'm c-coming!" Avallon laughed again, his earlier worries starting to melt away in the dog's infectious energy.

Together, the two white-colored companions raced through the snow, taking wide leaps to see who could jump farther. Along the way, Avallon offered greetings and pats to Dogamy and Dogaressa, who passed by murmuring something about strange-smelling puppies and dogs petting other dogs. He built a snowdog with Lesser Dog, rolled around with Greater Dog, and even handed a few dog biscuits from his school bag to a panicked-looking Doggo who dashed past muttering something about "seeing things."

Annoying Dog pouted dramatically until Avallon gave him a biscuit too, which earned him another round of happy barks.

But the cheerful tone didn't last.

Suddenly, Annoying Dog darted ahead, barking excitedly. Then—

A sharp, frustrated scream echoed through the forest, tearing through the snow-laden silence like a blade.

Avallon froze for just a heartbeat before breaking into a sprint.

He burst out of the trees and skidded to a halt at the edge of a long bridge, the one connecting Snowdin to the path toward the Ruins.

The sight before him was both familiar and strange.

Papyrus stood near the center of the bridge, one leg raised awkwardly as he tried (and failed) to shake Annoying Dog off his calf. The tiny white menace had attached himself like a living sock, tail wagging wildly as Papyrus flailed.

Off to the side, Sans was doubled over in laughter, his usual bottle of ketchup lying forgotten in the snow beside him.

Relief bloomed in Avallon's chest.

"Sans! Papyrus!" he called out, waving with both hands. "W-what are you—"

But the words died in his throat.

Because someone else was on the bridge.

Just beyond the brothers stood a child, about his age, maybe slightly older, wearing a long-sleeved, oversized blue sweater with purple stripes. Their brown hair fell just past their shoulders, the top half tied back with a faded ribbon. Their skin was pale, their expression unreadable, and their heavy-lidded brown eyes locked onto Avallon's the moment he appeared.

Avallon felt a chill roll down his spine that had nothing to do with the wind.

"...A h-human?" he whispered.

They didn't move. Didn't speak.

Just watched.

The human merely stood in place, silent and motionless. Their expression hadn't changed once since they arrived on the bridge. Those empty, lidded brown eyes never wavered from Sans, like they were watching, waiting, calculating.

And though the grinning skeleton's face remained unchanged to the casual observer, Avallon knew better.

That grin?

It was forced.

"...are you just gonna stare at me, or...?" Sans finally said, trying to keep his usual casual tone. But Avallon could hear the strain in it. That faint hitch. That tightness.

The human didn't answer. They just... shrugged, and then, without a word, turned and began walking in the direction of Snowdin.

Avallon tensed, fists clenched at his sides. He was ready to call out, but Sans's voice cut in again, just a little louder.

"well, I'll be straight-forward with you. my brother'd really like to see a human... and no, I'm not talking about you, 'Val."

Avallon, who doesn't phased that his oldest brother know that he's near, rolled his glowing eye lights and groaned softly. "I h-hope you aren't, you n-numbskull."

That earned him a brief chuckle, and Sans's smile, while still tight, softened just enough to be real again.

"so, y'know, it'd really help me out... if you kept pretending to be one."

That line was clearly for the human's benefit, but Sans was already turning, motioning for Avallon to follow him. The boy hesitated, eyeing the human one last time.

He didn't like this. Not one bit.

But he followed.

They walked in silence until the human was out of sight, and the trees closed in again. Then, without warning, Sans reached out and yanked Avallon off the path, pulling them into the shadows of a thick snow-covered pine.

"W-what the-?!" Avallon snapped, stumbling slightly. "w-what was t-that for?!"

"shh." Sans peered back toward the trail, making sure they weren't being followed. Then he finally let go.

Avallon glared up at his older brother, his breath coming in short, uneven puffs that rattled like a faulty bellows. His bony fingers twisted and tugged at the sleeve of his forest-green turtleneck with its uneven purple stripes, the fabric already fraying from the habit. His voice came low, sharp as a snapped bone.

“D-do you r-really trust that… th-that h-human?!”

Sans didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

“nope.”

The blunt answer only made Avallon’s magic churn hotter in his chest. He pressed on, his voice rising, wobbling between fear and fury.

“I m-mean, s-something’s wrong w-with th-them, Sans! Y-you can feel it too, can’t you?! It’s… it’s twisted! A-an’ it-it really, really unsettling me!”

“yep.”

Avallon’s sockets flared. “Sans!”

“I know.”

“Th-then how c-can y-you just stand there! J-joke with th-them like-like it’s normal?! Smile at them like-like—”

Sans finally exhaled, long and quiet, like he was letting the weight of a mountain slip off his shoulders. His grin didn’t change, but the words beneath it landed heavy.

“because if I don’t, they’ll move faster.”

The sentence hit like a bone club to the chest.

Avallon froze, staring at his brother as though he’d just spoken another language. “…Wh-what?”

For the first time, Sans turned fully toward him. The lazy grin was gone. No smirk, no shrug, no familiar shield of humor. Just hollow exhaustion, threaded with grief so old and so deep it had worn into his bones like water carving stone.

“you think I’m okay with this?” Sans asked softly. “you think I want to let an anomaly walk through our home like it belongs here?” His voice cracked, faint but sharp. “’Val… if I thought we had even a sliver of a shot, I’d do it. I’d throw every bone, every knifes, every blaster, every ounce of magic I got. I’d burn my soul to ash if it meant stoppin’ them.”

Avallon’s sockets stung, heat pricking behind his lights. “…S-so we j-just let them go?!”

“no.” The word cut like a blade.

Sans’s voice hardened, sharp as his blasters. “we stall. we warn the town. we buy every second of time we can for evac. and if the worst comes…” He hesitated, his hand tightening in his pocket. “then we make damn sure they don’t make it out the other side.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The kind of silence that made the air itself taste of dust.

Avallon swallowed, his voice trembling. “…Th-they’re g-gonna g-go after Papyrus.”

Sans’s jaw twitched, but he nodded once. “they will.”

Avallon’s chest cracked with panic, his words spilling fast. “A-and you’re j-just, you’re just gonna let that h-happen?!”

“You think I want that?!” Sans snapped, his voice shattering with rawness Avallon rarely heard. The sound of it silenced the younger skeleton instantly. Sans turned his head away, shoulders stiff, shoving his hands deeper into his jacket like he could bury his emotions there too. “I’d trade my soul a hundred times over if it kept him safe. If it kept both of you safe. But this… this is worse than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Avallon’s voice slipped out barely above a whisper. “…I w-wanna protect him.”

“I know.” Sans finally looked back, meeting his brother’s eyesockets. His voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “but you can’t lose your head over this, ’Val. you’re still a kid. you gotta let me and Papyrus handle it.”

Avallon’s fingers curled into fists, his sleeve crumpling in his grip. He straightened, eye lights sparking with something fierce and cold.

“I-I’m not l-leaving him alone,” he said, each word steadier than the last. “I d-don’t care what y-you say.”

The fire in his voice surprised even himself. Bright, cold fire, stubborn as bone.

Sans studied him for a long, heavy moment. The older skeleton’s sockets narrowed, his breath huffing out in something between resignation and reluctant admiration. Finally, he sighed.

“…you’re just like him, y’know that?”

Avallon’s mouth quirked, a grim smile tugging at the corner.

“Good.”

"AVALLON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS FAR AWAY FROM THE HOUSE?!" Papyrus called out the moment he spotted the youngest skeleton.

Despite the passage of time, Papyrus hadn't changed much in terms of personality. He was still loud, dramatic, and full of heart. However, he had upgraded his wardrobe, sort of. He now wore a uniform for the Royal Guardsman's recruits, proudly donning it every day as if he already held the official title.

Avallon gave a sheepish shrug. "I w-was with Sans e-earlier. Y-you didn't s-see me?"

Papyrus's expression scrunched into a comical frown, hands on his hips. "IT IS POSSIBLE THAT I HAD BEEN TOO OVERCOME WITH EXCITEMENT AT SANS ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING TO NOTICE YOU."

He turned toward their older brother. "SPEAKING OF WHICH, SANS! WHEN IS THE HUMAN GOING TO SHOW UP? I WANT TO LOOK MY SUNDAY BEST... OR AT LEAST MY TUESDAY PRETTY-GOOD."

"don't you only have one outfit?" Sans deadpanned, arms tucked lazily behind his head.

"YEAH, BUT I COULD STYLE MY HAIR!"

He have hairs? Avallon's thought was cut off when Sans quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, as if he knows what he thinks at that moment.

"oh. right. good idea," Sans said quickly, before glancing to the side. "hey, uh... why don't you look over there for a sec?"

Avallon's eyes followed his brother's line of sight and immediately narrowed. Just past the trees, near the path leading into Snowdin, stood the human. Still. Silent. Watching.

Avallon tensed, already pulling Sans's hand off his mouth. "...W-what."

Before he could say more, Papyrus excitedly grabbed both brothers and yanked them into a dramatic spinning huddle.

"OH MY GOD, SANS!" Papyrus shouted, twirling like a blender set to 'frenzy.' A second later, he wobbled to a stop, eyes unfocused. "I'M DIZZY. WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?"

Sans, his grin as wide as ever, pointed toward the approaching figure. "behold."

Papyrus squinted, then tilted his head. "OH MY GOD!" His excitement deflated into blank confusion. "WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME TO LOOK AT A ROCK."

Avallon blinked. Then snorted.

Sure enough, a very average-looking rock sat a few feet behind the human.

"hey, what's that in front of the rock?" Sans asked, gesturing with mock curiosity.

Papyrus gasped. "OH MY GOD! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT IS."

"well, it's not a rock," Sans added unhelpfully.

"And it's n-not a s-skeleton," Avallon muttered under his breath, discomfort tightening his voice as he subtly shifted closer to Sans.

Papyrus's eyes widened with theatrical realization. "NOT A ROCK OR A SKELETON...?" He gasped dramatically. "OH NO! BY PROCESS ELIMINATION THAT CAN ONLY MEANS IT'S A HUMAN!"

The tall skeleton cleared his throat, straightening his posture proudly as if preparing for a royal address.

"HUMAN! PREPARE YOURSELF!" he declared. "FOR HIJINKS! FOR LOW JINKS! FOR DANGERS! PUZZLES! CAPERS! JAPERS! BEING CAPTURED! AND OTHER SORTS OF FUN-FILLED ACTIVITIES!"

Avallon groaned quietly, but couldn't hide his small smile.

"B-because a g-game of 'capture the human' is a-always fun," Avallon said with mock wisdom, nodding solemnly like a tiny sage.

Papyrus pointed dramatically into the human. "REFRESHMENTS WILL BE PROVIDED... IF YOU DARE!" he bellowed with theatrical flair, then took off running, his scarf fluttering behind him as his laughter echoed through the trees.

Sans sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "...and you don't even bat an eye, huh?" he muttered, glancing down at Avallon with a lopsided grin.

Without another word, he reached out and took Avallon's hand, the gesture casual but familiar, and gently tugged him forward. The younger skeleton stumbled a bit, but quickly matched pace as Sans led him along the snowy path, following the sound of Papyrus's fading voice.

Snow crunched beneath their feet. The woods felt a little warmer somehow, even with the cold wind biting at their scarves. Avallon looked up at his older brother, smiling faintly.

"Papyrus!" Avallon called as he and Sans finally caught up to their taller, dramatically gesturing brother.

"hey, bro," Sans added lazily, giving a casual wave.

Papyrus spun on his heel, hands flaring in exaggerated exasperation. "WHY DID IT TAKE YOU TWO SO LONG TO GET HERE?! YOU'RE BOTH LAZY! SANS, YOU'RE A TERRIBLE INFLUENCE ON OUR BABY BROTHER!"

Sans only shrugged, unfazed. "c'mon, kids love me."

Papyrus narrowed his glowing eye sockets suspiciously. "YOU BOTH WERE NAPPING ALL NIGHT!"

"I think that's called...sleeping," Sans replied with a straight face.

Avallon nodded mock wisely beside him. "U-usually, it involves l-lying in bed, doing n-nothing, waiting for the c-crushing fatigue to finally w-win."

Papyrus blinked, thrown off for just a moment. "SEE?! AVALLON UNDERSTANDS!"

"A-actually," Avallon added quietly, "I-I love sleeping. I-it just takes f-forever to arrive."

"EXCUSES, EXCUSES!" Papyrus declared, throwing his arms in the air with a theatrical sigh.

Before anyone could argue further, the crunch of approaching footsteps cut through the snow-blanketed silence. All three skeletons immediately turned toward the sound, eye sockets wide, expressions shifting.

There, stepping calmly into the clearing, was the human.

"OH-HO!" Papyrus shouted gleefully, practically vibrating with excitement. "THE HUMAN ARRIVES! IN ORDER TO STOP YOU... MY BROTHERS AND I HAVE CREATED A SERIES OF CUNNING PUZZLES!" He struck a pose, arms crossed dramatically. "I THINK YOU'LL FIND THIS ONE... QUITE SHOCKING!"

Sans gave a small, amused snort, but didn't interrupt.

Avallon, however, didn't laugh. His expression shifted the moment the human stepped into the center of the puzzle area. His eye lights narrowed, focused, not with curiosity, but with cold suspicion. Without even realizing it, he moved a step forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Papyrus, as if shielding him.

A quiet tension settled in his stance. His small hands clenched at his sides, just enough for his sleeves to twitch. He didn't say anything, not yet, but the unease in his magic was palpable to anyone who knew how to read it.

Sans noticed.

He didn't comment.

Papyrus, oblivious, simply smiled brighter. "NOW THEN, HUMAN! PREPARE YOURSELF FOR THE MIND-BENDING GENIUS OF THE PUZZLES AHEAD!"

Avallon's eye sockets narrowed, his eye lights thinning slightly as he watched the human step confidently into the center of Papyrus's so-called puzzle zone. Something about the way they moved, so calm, so casual, made his soul itch.

Without thinking, the youngest skeleton took a small but purposeful step forward, placing himself protectively in front of Papyrus. His posture was tense, shoulders tight, one hand subtly twitching at his side.

Papyrus, ever the dramatic showman, was unfazed, at first.

"FOR YOU SEE, THIS IS... THE INVISIBLE... UHHHHHH...?" His booming voice wavered as his eye lights flicked around the area, searching for the punchline he clearly hadn't planned for. "HMMM... YOU MUST BE HAVING... CULTURE SHOCK!"

Avallon glanced over at Sans, his skull tilted slightly in question. The older skeleton merely shrugged. Avallon mimicked the motion a beat later, both of them silently acknowledging that they had no clue what Papyrus was doing.

Papyrus, undeterred, continued with renewed, if confused, enthusiasm.

"YOU SEE, WHERE I COME FROM, IT'S A LOVING TRADITION TO SUFFER THROUGH HORRIBLE PUZZLES FOR NO REASON!" he declared proudly, arms spread wide as though explaining a deeply sacred rite.

The human, unfazed, simply walked forward, right up to Avallon.

The younger skeleton flinched as they approached, shoulders hitching as a nervous twitch rippled through him. His soul fluttered with unease. His body stiffened, and he held his ground, but his feet shuffled instinctively backward.

"SO, UH..." Papyrus continued, now sounding unsure of his own stage directions, "JUST WALK BACK THERE, AND... UH..." He trailed off, watching as the human ignored the invisible electric maze entirely. His shoulders drooped in defeat. "WHY COULDN'T WE GET A HUMAN THAT LIKES PUZZLES?"

With a dramatic sigh and a slump of his shoulders, Papyrus turned and trudged off, his scarf fluttering sadly behind him.

The moment he was gone, Avallon took several steps back, trying to put as much space between himself and the human as possible. But they followed, their expression unreadable, their stare intense. They stopped in front of him, head tilted slightly, waiting, expecting something.

Avallon's fingers curled into trembling fists. After a long, tense pause, he finally spoke.

"J-just for the r-record... I don't t-t-trust you."

His voice came out softer than he intended, laced with anxiety and guarded resolve, before Avallon running away to catch up with his brother.

The human stared at his retreating form, then simply shrugged.

With no reaction, they turned and approached Sans instead.

Sans didn't move, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. His sockets darkened subtly, the shadows shifting in a way that suggested his attention was sharper than usual.

"it would make my brother happy if you played along," he said, tone flat but with a hint of warning buried beneath the words.

The human tilted their head, gave another shrug, and walked off, calm as ever, not really acknowledging what Sans said.

"I JUST DON'T GET WHY THIS HUMAN DOESN'T SEEM TO LIKE MY PUZZLES..." Papyrus sighed dramatically, his arms crossed as he stared intently down the snowy path, eyes fixed on the direction he knew the human would be approaching from. His voice was tinged with frustration and just a hint of dejection.

Avallon cleared his nonexistent throat quietly, shuffling a little closer. "W-well, I think your puzzle was p-plenty fun, Papy," he offered, his voice soft but sincere. His eye lights flicked upward toward his older brother, hoping the words might lift Papyrus's mood even a little.

Papyrus blinked, glancing down at the youngest skeleton with surprised fondness, but before he could say anything, Sans chimed in.

"c'mon, maybe they'll like mine," Sans said casually, hands tucked deep into his hoodie pockets.

Papyrus straightened instantly, hope blooming once again. "YOU'RE RIGHT! MAYBE IT'S JUST A MATTER OF PREFERENCE!" He pumped a fist into the air as if he were preparing to unveil a masterclass in puzzle design.

Avallon, who had returned his attention to the path ahead, suddenly stiffened. His eye lights blinked out for a split second, his body instinctively tensing. "...H-human's here," he muttered, voice low.

"HUMAN!" Papyrus called out without hesitation, striking a dramatic pose. "I HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR..." His confident tone faltered the moment he looked ahead. His gaze scanned the open patch of ground expectantly, but there was nothing there.

His smile dropped.

"...SANS! WHERE'S THE PUZZLE?!"

Sans didn't even glance up. "it's right there," he said, gesturing lazily to a section of the snow-covered ground. "on the ground. trust me. there's no way they'll skip this one."

Papyrus squinted. Avallon leaned forward slightly, trying to make sense of the "puzzle." A few odd tiles were embedded in the snow, barely noticeable and entirely unthreatening.

The human approached, their footsteps soft against the snow.

Without so much as slowing down, they stepped right over the tiles and continued walking.

Avallon's body moved before his mind caught up. He stepped in front of Papyrus again, a quiet but protective gesture. His jaw clenched tightly, but he said nothing.

Papyrus gaped.

"...SANS! THAT DID NOTHING!"

"whoops," Sans replied, clearly not sorry in the slightest. His grin widened. "knew i should've gone with junior jumble instead."

Papyrus buried his face in his hands with an exaggerated groan. "MAYBE THIS HUMAN IS JUST...PUZZLE-INEPT!"

Avallon blinked slowly, then muttered, "I d-don't think t-they even looked a-at it."

Papyrus threw his arms up in dramatic dismay. "WELL, I REFUSE TO GIVE UP! THE NEXT PUZZLE SHALL BLOW THEIR HUMAN SOCKS OFF!"

"good thing they don't wear any," Sans muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Avallon to hear.

The youngest skeleton let out a small giggle, relieved, even if only slightly. 

"Sans!" Avallon half-yelled, half-sobbed, his voice cracking under the weight of terror. Twin streams of green tears poured from his eye sockets, trailing down his face like glowing rivers of panic. "T-thank stars- I-I didn't t-think I'd get t-to you in t-time!"

He stumbled forward, nearly tripping in his haste, and flung his arms around Sans's middle, clutching him tightly as though the contact alone could anchor him to safety.

Sans blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden embrace. His body tensed under the pressure of Avallon's grip, but his arms instinctively wrapped around the smaller skeleton's back. "whoa, hey, what's wrong, babybones?" he asked gently, his voice a soothing drawl despite the clear note of concern creeping in.

Avallon's breath hitched, and he looked up with hollow sockets. His eye lights were still glowing, but dimmed, trembling with unspeakable fear. "T-they've... the-they're k-kill-lling e-every-everyone," he whispered, voice shaking so badly it barely formed the words.

Sans's grin faltered, slipping into something unreadable.

Avallon tightened his grip. "I-I sa-aw the-them ki-ill S-Snow-Snowdrake- y-you k-know, t-that kid in m-my cl-class wh-who al-always picked fi-fights just s-so he could ha-have a ca-cqptive audi-audience?" His voice cracked again, and a sob caught in his throat. "H-he di-didn't e-even fi-fight back. the-they j-just- they ju-just d-did it, like it me-meant nothing..."

He was trembling now, head pressed against Sans's hoodie, words muffled and wet with tears.

"Sa-Sans... w-we need t-to g-go home. W-we need t-to hide downstairs..." he begged, desperation rising like a tide. "P-please. I'm n-not losing y-you t-two. N-not because o-of that- that soulless hu-husk!"

His voice broke completely at the end, collapsing into a ragged, hiccupping breath. It was a rare thing to see Avallon this unraveled, usually so cautious, so reserved. Now he was just a terrified kid, pleading with the brother he trusted most in the world.

Sans was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so. He slowly knelt down to Avallon's level, hands resting gently on his shoulders.

"...you're not gonna lose us, kid," he said softly, but with steel beneath the words. His usual laziness was gone, replaced by a grave seriousness. "I promise."

He pulled Avallon into a proper hug this time, tight and protective.

Papyrus's grin stretched wide with pure relief as he spotted the human approaching the large tile puzzle he had carefully set up across the ground. His chest puffed out with pride. "HEY! IT'S THE HUMAN! YOU'RE GONNA LOVE THIS PUZZLE!"

The human stepped into the center of the grayscale tile board without hesitation.

"IT WAS MADE BY THE GREAT—" Papyrus's enthusiasm cut off mid-sentence as he blinked at the human, who had already walked past half the board. "...ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

Avallon stood just behind him, his shoulders sagging. "Th-there's j-just no reasoning with t-them, Pap..."

"I AGREE!" Papyrus huffed, whirling around dramatically toward their older brother. "SANS! HELP! THEY KEEP WALKING THROUGH MY PUZZLES WITHOUT EVEN LETTING ME EXPLAIN THEM! THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO STAND IN PLACE, LOOK CONFUSED, AND BE BAFFLED BY MY DANGEROUS JAPES!"

Sans, leaning against a nearby post with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, tilted his skull lazily. "well, maybe they don't like japes."

"EVERYONE LIKES JAPES!" Papyrus declared with absolute certainty.

"N-not if they're d-directed at me..." Avallon muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his skull.

Sans shrugged. "what about undyne? doesn't she hate puzzles?"

"OH, SHE HATES PUZZLES, TRUE," Papyrus replied, waving a hand as if dismissing the very idea of comparing the two. "BUT SHE LOVES JAPES. IT'S AN IMPORTANT DISTINCTION."

Avallon let out a soft giggle. "That... that actually m-makes sense."

Papyrus spun dramatically back to face the human. "HUMAN! WHAT DO YOU THINK? PUZZLES OR JAPES?!"

Avallon sighed, tugging gently at his scarf. "Th-they're not g-gonna answer, Papyrus."

Still, Papyrus stood with hopeful determination, waiting. One beat passed. Then another. The human stared at him blankly, if they even noticed him at all.

The tall skeleton's shoulders slowly drooped. "THIS IS USUALLY THE PART WHERE YOU EITHER AGREE OR DISAGREE... AND DEPENDING ON YOUR ANSWER, WE SAY SOMETHING GREAT IN RESPONSE."

Silence.

Papyrus gave a forced smile, trying to keep his spirits up. "VERY WELL THEN! HERE, WHY DON'T YOU DO THIS PUZZLE YOURSELF?" He plucked a sheet of instructions from behind his back and placed it with exaggerated flair in front of the control box beside the puzzle board.

Without another word, Papyrus turned and began to walk away. As he passed Avallon and Sans, he slowed beside the younger skeleton. "AVALLON, WOULD YOU MIND STAYING WITH ME FOR A WHILE?" His voice was softer, lower than usual, tinged with something fragile. "I FEAR SANS MAY BE CORRUPTING YOU WITH HIS PUNS."

Avallon caught the subtle tremble in Papyrus's smile. It wasn't just frustration. It was fear. Worry. Disappointment. And despite how goofy Papyrus could be, Avallon recognized that look in his brother's eyes.

"Sure, Pap..." he said quietly. "Sans c-can be by h-himself for a b-bit."

Papyrus's face lit up, not with full joy, but with gratitude. He held out a gloved hand. Avallon took it without hesitation, his smaller fingers curling around the offered comfort. They walked off together, Papyrus's stride still full of flair despite his troubled thoughts, and Avallon keeping close to his side, trying to offer silent reassurance.

Behind them, Sans watched quietly, his grin fading just a little as he glanced at the human once more.

"...guess some people just ain't got a sense of humor," he muttered.

The human crossed the long rope bridge without hesitation, their footsteps steady and deliberate. Despite the wind swaying the bridge and the creaking of old wood beneath their feet, they showed no signs of fear or hesitation.

Once they reached the other side, they noticed a piece of paper pinned to one of the support posts with a comically large thumbtack. The paper fluttered slightly in the breeze, the bold, dramatic handwriting unmistakable.

It was a note from Papyrus.

———————————————————————————————————
HUMAN!

I REGRET NOT BEING THERE TO UNVEIL TO YOU MY MOST DANGEROUS PUZZLE: THE GAUNTLET OF DEADLY TERROR.
BUT MY BROTHERS INSISTED THAT I STAY AWAY, CLAIMING IT WAS TOO DANGEROUS-FOR ME!
SANS SAYS HE WILL BE SHOWING IT TO YOU, BUT I DOUBT THAT LAZYBONES WILL EVEN TRY!
STILL, IF YOU SEE IT... TRY TO LOOK IMPRESSED, OKAY?

NYEH-FULLY YOURS,
THE GREAT PAPYRUS
———————————————————————————————————

The paper crinkled as the human lowered it. Behind them, a familiar voice spoke, quietly, but distinctly.

"say, I've been thinkin'..."

The human turned without surprise, even though Sans hadn't made a sound when he approached. He stood a few paces away, his hands in his jacket pockets, one foot lazily resting atop a cracked rock. His grin was as relaxed as ever, but there was a weight behind it.

"looks like you're gonna fight Papyrus pretty soon." Sans paused, glancing toward the trail ahead. "he's stubborn. always has been. he'll keep trying, even if me and 'Val beg him not to."

The human gave a half-hearted shrug. It was the first real response they'd shown all day.

"here's some friendly advice." Sans's grin didn't fade, but it no longer reached his eye sockets. "if you keep goin' the way you are now..."

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, they were no longer glowing with faint, lazy blue lights. Instead, empty darkness stared out, voids without bottom, without end.

"you're gonna have a Bad Time."

For a brief, split second, the world seemed to flicker, like a screen glitching. The air grew heavy. Something in the human's soul quivered, though they didn't flinch.

And then... nothing.

When their vision cleared again, Sans was gone.

No footsteps. No final quip. Just silence.

The wind rustled the note once more behind them, as if Papyrus's childish scrawl tried to echo a warning too.

Chapter Text

Avallon sprinted down the snowy road, tears pouring freely from his eye sockets, streaks of bright green magic trailing behind him and fading into the cold air.

"Nonononononononononono-"

His voice cracked, the chant spilling from his mouth like a prayer laced with panic. His feet barely touched the ground as he ran, slipping now and then but never stopping.

He had to catch him.

He had to stop him.

Because Papyrus couldn't, he wouldn't, be doing what Avallon feared.

It all started not long ago, right after the brothers had made it safely back home. The door had been locked. The house had been warm, if quiet. Papyrus had even cracked one of his usual dramatic lines to lighten the mood. For a moment, Avallon had thought everything might finally be okay.

Then Papyrus had insisted on going into Avallon's room, his chaotic haven of books, his guitar, knitting supplies, and clothing piles. That had been Avallon's first mistake.

Once inside, Papyrus had turned to ensure the front door was bolted shut. Then, with a practiced steadiness, he had begun to purring. The kind of purrs that only monster skeletons could produce when they wanted to calm those they consider as their family members down. It was a strange quirk skeletons clan had, since they didn't have expressive faces, many skeletons had evolved the magical ability to communicate emotion through the sounds their bones make.

The purring sound was calming, gentle... reassuring.

And after the tense and fear Avallon had experienced that day, he welcomed the comfort without hesitation. That was his second mistake.

The soothing sound lulled him. His bones felt lighter. The cold that had seeped into him from earlier started to ease.

Papyrus had spoken little, only offering soft encouragement as he scooped up the younger skeleton into his arms. He had tucked him into bed with a practiced tenderness, carefully brushing a hand over his skull.

Avallon had managed to murmur, "Papy...?"

And in return, he'd seen a small smile... and an unmistakable look of regret in his brother's eye lights.

Papyrus had whispered something. Something Avallon couldn't catch through the haze. Then he turned, stepped out the door, and left it silently ajar behind him.

Avallon, still groggy, had slipped deeper into the fog of half-sleep.
That had been his third and final mistake.

When he awoke with a jolt some time later, the house was too quiet. No sounds from the kitchen. No loud voice declaring "THE GREAT PAPYRUS DEMANDS CEREAL!" No snoring from the couch where Sans might've dozed off.

The front door creaked slightly in the breeze.

And Papyrus was gone.

Not just out in the yard. Not just taking a walk.

Gone.

Gone from the house. Gone from Snowdin.

By the time Avallon had found the faint trail of footprints leading toward the forest's edge, it was already too late. His heart pounded in his ribs like a war drum as he ran, vision blurred not just by tears, but by fear, crippling, suffocating fear.

"Please don't do this... Please don't be trying to face them... alone..."

"W-WELL, THAT'S NOT WHAT I EXPECTED..."

Avallon's eye sockets widened in horror, his magic pulsing a sickly green as he caught sight of the human, and his brother.

No.

He watched, frozen in place, as Papyrus's body shimmered and broke apart into dust. His skull, his smiling, hopeful skull, fell last, landing with a quiet thunk into the snow.

Avallon couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but watch.

"BUT... ST-STILL! I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER! EVEN IF YOU DON'T THINK SO!"

Papyrus's words echoed like distant bells in the back of his mind.
They were his last. His final plea.

The human, the Brother Killer, took a step forward, their face hidden beneath a curtain of hair, emotionless and cold. They looked down at the fallen skull for a beat longer.

"I... I PROMISE," Papyrus's voice repeated again in Avallon's head.

And then—

The Brother Killer's foot came down.

Crunch.

The skull was crushed underfoot like brittle glass.

Avallon clamped a shaking hand over his mouth, biting down a strangled sob. He had to stay quiet. Had to stay hidden. Had to survive.

He watched in horror as the human lingered for a moment, staring at the dust and bone fragments, before turning and walking silently down the path toward the next part of the Underground.

Only when he was certain they were gone, completely out of sight, did Avallon allow himself to move. He bolted forward and dropped to his knees beside what remained of his brother.

"P-Papy?" he breathed.

There was so little left. Dust caught in the breeze. A splash of color, his scarf, half-buried in the snow. A few bone shards scattered like broken puzzle pieces. And his Crysalith. Oh his shattered Crysalith. Carefully, Avallon reached out to brush the remaining of his brother Crysalith free, his hands trembling violently.

He shouldn't have let him go. Heshouldn'thave—

He forced his hand into the inner pocket of his heavy cloak, fumbling through the layered compartments until his fingers curled around his cell phone. With a sharp inhale, he dialed a number with shaking bones.

It rang once.

Then twice.

"'Val, where the heck are you? I got to the house and both of you were gone!"

Avallon froze.

He tried to speak, but the words jammed in his throat like jagged ice. Finally, a strangled sob escaped.

"...Avallon... where are you? did... did something happen?"

The question shattered him.

"J-just out-outside... W-Waterfall en-entrance..." he choked, the words broken between shallow gasps. Then the phone slipped from his grip, falling to the snow with a muted thump as he buried his face in his hands and began to wail.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that. Minutes? Hours? It could have been days for all he cared. The grief bent him double like a broken tree in a storm.

Eventually, he felt warmth wrap around him, arms, familiar and steady. Sans.

The older skeleton said nothing at first. He simply held Avallon close, letting him sob into his shoulder. His left eye glowed a faint blue in a quiet attempt at magic-based comfort, but even that light couldn't touch the weight pressing down on them both.

After a long silence, Avallon's sobs slowed to trembling breaths. He hiccuped softly before finally speaking, voice hoarse.

"I-it's all m-my fault."

"no, it's not."

Avallon jerked back, glaring through tears at his brother. "I-if I hadn't f-fallen asleep, h-he'd still b-be here! H-he'd be a-alive!"

Sans's expression hardened. "if you hadn't fallen asleep, he would've just waited until you blinked. you know Papyrus, he was determined. he'd have gone either way."

"B-but I should've—"

"it's not your fault, kiddo." Sans's voice dropped, more serious than Avallon had ever heard it. "he made his choice. he just didn't want you to follow him into danger."

Avallon bowed his head, guilt still etched in every line of his body. Slowly, he pulled away from Sans's arms and picked his cell phone up from where it had fallen. He wiped it clean, though the snow had done most of the work already.

"W-we ha-hav'ta go w-warn U-Undyne," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "S-she m-might still be a-able to s-stop that B-Brother Killer... r-right?"

He reached up and pulled the hood of his cloak over his skull, shadowing his face for the second time that day.

Sans gave a small, sad smile. "dirty brother killer," he echoed softly.

From the ground beside them, he picked up Papyrus's scarf, and with it the shattered remains of Papyrus's Crysalith, the one bright thing in the grey snow. He held it out to Avallon.

"take it."

This time, Avallon didn't argue. He took it gently and wrapped it around his neck with reverent care. It was still warm from his brother's magic. It smelled like spaghetti and cinnamon.

A few more silent tears fell from his sockets. Then he gave Sans one last look, eyes hardening with purpose.

He turned, stepping back onto the path.

The wind caught the edge of his cloak, letting it billow behind him like a cape. For a moment, it blocked Sans's view of his brother.

Dust... Dust everywhere...

Avallon sat curled up in the corner, his knees drawn tightly to his chest as he rested his chin on them. Papyrus's orange scarf was wrapped snugly around his neck, concealing the lower half of his face like a shield against the world. In his trembling hands, he clutched what remained of his brother's Crysalith, shattered, dim, and heartbreakingly cold.

He didn't want to be seen. Not by anyone.

From across the room, he could hear voices, muffled, but sharp enough to cut through the fog in his mind. Sans was talking with Undyne and Alphys.

"I'll intercept the human before they reach Hotland," Undyne declared, her voice strong but edged with grim resolve. "If they manage to get past me, which they won't, you'll need to be ready to evacuate, Alphys."

"U-Undyne..." Alphys stammered, her glasses glinting with unshed tears.

"They won't get past me," Undyne insisted with a fierce grin. "But just in case, we need a backup plan. Better safe than sorry."

"I-I understand..." Alphys whispered, voice cracking.

"I'm heading out to manage the survivors in Snowdin and Waterfall," Sans added, the weight in his tone unmistakable. "let the folks in the Capital know what's coming."

He glanced toward the corner where Avallon sat, curled in grief.

"'Val stays here with you, Alphys. don't let him out of your sight. he's... all I have left now."

Avallon squeezed his eye sockets shut. More green tears spilled down his cheekbones, vanishing into the worn fabric of the scarf. His soul felt brittle, stretched thin by guilt, fear, and sorrow. The room felt too bright, too quiet, too empty without Papyrus's booming voice or awkward optimism.

A gentle weight pressed onto his skull. He flinched, instinctively, then opened his sockets to look up.

Sans.

The oldest skeleton knelt in front of him, his normally tired expression even heavier than usual. Wordlessly, Sans reached out and cupped Avallon's face in his hands, brushing a thumb beneath one eye socket.

"your magic's leaking, kid," Sans said softly. "don't burn yourself out."

Avallon blinked and realized his sockets had been glowing again, unstable, raw magic radiating from the corners like a silent scream. He hiccuped a breath, trying to rein it back in, and wiped at his tears with the edge of Papyrus's scarf.

"there ya go. that's better," Sans murmured, leaning in to press his teeth lightly against Avallon's temple, a silent, skeletal kiss. "I gotta go, kiddo. but I need you to stay with Alphys. don't leave her side. promise me that."

Avallon turned his face away stubbornly, refusing to meet his brother's eye. He couldn't speak. If he opened his mouth, he feared all that would come out was a wail.

Sans sighed, clearly used to this particular brand of silent defiance. He gave Avallon's head one last pat before standing.

"see ya soon, kiddo," he whispered.

Avallon didn't move, didn't answer. Not even when Sans vanished into thin air using one of his shortcuts.

The young skeleton stayed motionless for a moment, the echo of his brother's departure lingering in the air. Then, slowly, he buried his face in his knees again, and broke.

This time, the sobs came harder. Sharper. Unfiltered and ragged. Alphys, still standing near the far table, looked toward him but didn't approach. She knew better. This wasn't something she could fix with comfort or science.

Avallon was mourning his brother's death.

And she, too, knew the weight of loss.

So, she stayed close, but silent. And let him grieve.

Avallon stared blankly at the screen as Undyne slowly melted, her once-mighty form disintegrating into dust, carried away by a silent, unseen breeze.

It was over.

Though her determination had blazed like a dying star, even Undyne had fallen.

He blinked slowly, barely processing what he'd just witnessed. It might have been just him, but the entire battle felt... wrong somehow. As if it had lasted longer than reality allowed. As if something, or someone, had desperately tried to change the outcome. For a moment, it was like time had bent around Undyne's will. But in the end, Fate had caught up to her, as it had with everyone else.

He had hoped, prayed, even, that she would win.

But deep down, he'd expected this ending all along.

Now, there was nothing left standing between the human and the heart of the Underground.

Nothing.

His gaze drifted toward Alphys. The Royal Scientist sat collapsed in her chair, sobbing uncontrollably. Her glasses were askew, and tears streamed down her scaly cheeks in thick rivers. Her claws trembled as she covered her face, as though hiding might shield her from the truth flashing on the monitor.

Avallon felt... nothing. No sorrow. No grief. No fear.

Only a hollow, burning rage.

"Y-you s-should w-warn e-everyone," he murmured, voice hollow.

Alphys flinched as though he'd struck her. She looked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, blinking in shock at the coldness in his tone. But she said nothing about it, only sniffled and gave a small, shaking nod.

"Y-Yeah... I-I will," she whispered brokenly. "L-Let's... let's g-get everyone t-together..."

And then she was gone. Scurrying away down the hall, her footsteps echoing like frantic heartbeats. She didn't even glance back to see if he was following.

That was good.

Avallon hadn't planned on following her anyway. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Not until the one who had killed Papyrus, Snowdrake, Undyne, and so many others was finally stopped.

Not until they were dust.

Once he was certain Alphys had left the building, he stood and adjusted the orange scarf around his neck, pulling it higher. The familiar fabric smelled faintly of home, of spaghetti and his brother cinnamon laundry detergent, of his brother's loud voice and warm hugs. It was all he had left now. A piece of Papyrus that still clung to him like a memory refusing to fade.

He walked to the door, his steps slow but deliberate, and pushed it open.

The air outside was unnaturally still.

Somewhere far ahead, the human was walking, unopposed, undeterred, toward Hotland.

Not for long.

Avallon would be waiting for them.

He would make his stand at the bridge, where steam and shadows mixed. Where the cold of Waterfall met the searing heat of the next region.

He clenched his fists tightly, his magic flaring with quiet intensity.

He wasn't going to let that soulless murderer pass.

Not without a fight.

Not without justice.

Hotland. The name was definitely well-earned.

Even as a skeleton, with Ice magic affinity no less, Avallon could feel the suffocating heat gnawing at his bones. Every step across the scorched ground made his joints ache, as though the very air was trying to melt him into dust. His cloak clung to him uncomfortably, and Papyrus's orange scarf felt like a furnace around his neck.

But he wouldn't take it off.

Not until his dying breath.

Which... might come sooner than he'd like.

Still, he was willing to risk everything. For Papyrus. For Snowdrake. For everyone the human had slaughtered. He couldn't let them reach the Core, not without a fight. Not without someone standing in their way.

He paused at the edge of the bridge just outside Alphys's lab and looked back one final time, his eye sockets lingering on the familiar building. A soft sigh escaped him as he turned and crossed the sweltering bridge.

The stand came into view first, Sans's (kinda) illegal hot dog stand, still standing stubbornly in the heat like it was waiting for its owner to return. Avallon walked up to it and leaned heavily against the cart, his breath coming in short puffs. He was dizzy from the heat, but he'd deal with that later. Right now, he had a job to do.

Footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, slow, casual, too calm for someone soaked in so much dust.

Avallon's breath hitched.

They were here.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his magic to settle. He was terrified, of course he was terrified. The human was a killer, a monster worse than any in the Underground. And yet, as the youngest skeleton he had the best chance of stalling them at very least.

He opened his eye sockets just as the footsteps stopped in front of him.

The human stood there, confused. A small purple hooded cloak figure was leaning against the hotdog cart, a long orange scarf trailing in the dry breeze behind them. Their face was hidden in the shadows of the hood. No light touched it.

Then the figure spoke.

"Hullo there, Brother Killer."

Their crimson eyes narrowed. The voice was familiar.

The youngest one.

But there was something wrong, the stutter was gone, replaced by something colder. Sharper.

Avallon straightened, still partially cloaked in shadow. "Heeh... so... LV 13 now, huh? Think you're real tough just 'cuz you slaughtered everyone who couldn't fight back?"

The human tilted their head, almost in amusement.

Big mistake.

"I'm usually laid-back. Guess I take after Sans that way." Avallon's voice grew quieter, darker. "More like Papyrus when I'm excited. but when you hurt the people I love..."

The world shifted.

The human's red soul ripped from their chest as the battlefield emerged in blinding monochrome. Time froze. Color drained from the world. And under the hood, two green pinpricks lit up the darkness, followed by a wide, eerie grin.

"Flowers are in bloom, as the birds will tell..." Avallon's voice echoed like a whisper carried on wind and vengeance. "It sure is a beautiful day... to be burned in H e l l."

The human blinked, surprised. This was new.

A melody unlike any other fight they'd had before began to play. It was slower, colder, there was something bitter in it. Something ancient. Something new. Something personal.

They decided to play it safe.

ACT → CHECK

—————————————————————
Avallon

ATK 10 (+25)
DEF 5 (+15).

*A pushover, just like his brother.
—————————————————————

The grin vanished.

The green pinpricks dimmed for a moment, as though the words had struck something deeper than intended.

Then Avallon let out a sudden cackle. Cold. Manic. Full of vengeance.

"Oh... I'll show you what this pushover can do."

Suddenly, his right arm shot out from beneath the cloak, his fingers curling in a fluid, commanding motion. His left eye socket flared a vibrant green as he summoned his Gem-weapon, an emerald-tinted polearm shimmering with crystallized magic.

"Kneel."

Without warning, the human's red SOUL slammed to the ground as gravity magic dragged them down, the blue light forcing them into submission. Before they could recover, the glow in Avallon's right socket changed, flickering from green to icy white.

Ice magic.

They couldn't move.

Trapped.

Frozen.

Avallon's cloak billowed behind him as his polearm lifted, slicing through the air with precision.

Then came the first wave of bones, rows of glowing white rushing toward the frozen SOUL.

The human smirked.

Too easy.

They could see the gaps in the attack-tight, but survivable. All they had to do was-

WHAM.

The first bones hit.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

Their smirk faltered. The gaps weren't real. They were illusions, mirages conjured by the pressure of two opposing forces of magic: Avallon's elemental affinity, and something darker, older, woven into the rage in his SOUL.

The screen cracked faintly as the human was slammed backward, the word MISS flickering as they struggled to regain control of their SOUL.

Avallon took a step forward, eyes still glowing, his voice calm and cold.

"You want a genocide...?"

The battlefield vibrated underfoot.

"Then I'll show you what happens when you pick a fight with grief."

The footsteps grew louder before coming to a sudden halt just a few feet away. Avallon gave a soft, bitter chuckle and slowly opened his eyes, locking gazes with the red-eyed human standing across from him.

"Hullo there, dirty Brother Killer." he said coolly, though a tremor of unease threaded through his voice.

Something felt off, wrong, even. A strange sense of familiarity made his magic tingle uncomfortably under his bones. He didn't trust this feeling. Without wasting another second, he summoned four Gaster Blasters that flared to life behind him, icy blue spears hovering midair, and in his hand, his Gem pulsed with magic as his polearm materialized.

"Hmm... This feels like déjà vu..." he muttered, his scowl deepening.

The human tilted their head slightly, an eerie smile tugging at their lips, as if they knew something he didn't.

"Ah, whatever then," Avallon growled, tightening his grip on his weapon as it materialized beside him. "Let's just get this over with, Brother Killer."

The human gave a sharp, barking laugh that echoed too loudly in the heavy air, and in a flash, they dashed forward, weaving through his opening attacks with alarming ease. Avallon barely had time to raise his polearm in defense before the human's knife clashed against it. The blow rattled through his skeletal frame, the force driving him back several paces.

"You want a genocide...?" he hissed, recovering his stance. "Then I'll show you what happens when you pick a fight with grief."

With a snap of his fingers, a storm of jagged ice spears formed above and rained down toward the human like frozen lightning. The human dodged once more, their expression focused, calculating. Avallon felt a cold spike of fear crawl down his spine. The way they moved, it was too precise. Too practiced. As if they knew what he was going to do before he even did it.

His sockets narrowed.

"...No matter," he growled, forcing the fear down. "I've got plenty more where that came from."

He launched into his next attack, unleashing a spiral of bone javelins from all directions while pulsing his soul with ice magic to trap the battlefield in slick frost. Gaster Blasters roared to life behind him, locking onto the human's soul.

But something gnawed at him, why did it feel like he'd fought them before?
And more importantly... why couldn't he remember it?

But the human pre-teen walking down its long, solemn corridor had no eye for the beauty surrounding them. They didn't care about the way the light played across the polished floor, nor the warm breeze drifting in from the distant garden. Their gaze was locked solely on the short skeleton standing calmly at the far end of the hall.

Sans.

"Heya," Sans greeted, his tone deceptively casual as the human approached, footsteps echoing against the stone floor.

"You've been busy, huh? So, I've got a question for ya."

The human didn't respond. Their expression remained unreadable, flat, emotionless. A soulless stare.

Sans tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded.

"Do you think even the worst person can change...?" he asked quietly.

"That everyone can be a good person, if they just try?"

Still, the human said nothing. They simply stared him down, unblinking, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

The skeleton let out a soft, bitter laugh. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Heh heh heh heh... All right," he muttered with a sigh.

"Then here's a better question."

His eyes slid shut for a brief moment. And when they opened again, the friendly cyan eye lights that usually floated in his sockets were gone, replaced by two cold, empty voids.

"Do you wanna have a bad time?" he asked flatly.

His grin didn't change shape, but it somehow shifted, twisting, darkening, filling with venom and sorrow all at once.

"'Cause if you take another step forward... You're really not going to like what happens next."

The human scoffed quietly.

And stepped forward.

Sans's smile widened just a fraction, full of pain.

"Welp," he whispered under his breath. "Sorry, old lady..."

His hand drifted toward his chest, toward two shattered Monster Gem remains, barely visible within the false fluff of his jacket. They flickered once.

"This is why I never make promises."

The moment the last word left his mouth, the world shifted. Color drained from the hall. The warmth vanished. All that remained was cold grayscale. Silence. Judgement.

With a violent pull, the human's soul was yanked from their chest, glowing red, defiant, and filled with murderous intent. It pulsed with a terrifying rhythm.

Sans's eyes flicked toward their stats.

—————————————————————
LV 19
ATK 99
DEF 99
HP 92

*They had killed almost everyone.
—————————————————————

Toriel. Papyrus. Undyne. Alphys. Mettaton. Avallon...

The skeleton's grin faltered, just slightly. His hand pressed tighter to his chest, where both shattered Gems shimmered again bound to his magic.

He let out a slow breath.

"It's a beautiful day outside," he began softly. "Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming..."

His voice dropped into something hollow, dangerous, mournful.

"On days like these, kids like you—"

The last words weren't just Sans's. The voice that echoed with them sounded younger, rawer, angrier.

Avallon.

"—S H O U L D   B E   B U R N I N G   I N   H E L L."

The human flinched.

Sans's eye snapped alight, glowing cyan with a sharp flash of yellow, righteous fury and karmic justice burning behind it.

"Die you dirty brothers killer."

They frowned as they fought the skeleton again.

Everything felt... off.

Over the past 413 timelines—413 Resets—Sans had always said the same things. Same lines. Same tricks. Same tired routine. It had become predictable, almost mechanical. They had memorized every attack pattern, every opening, every one of his bone-laced quips.

Even that one time... when he spared them.

Back then, curiosity, or maybe guilt, had gotten the better of them. They'd stopped fighting. Surrendered. For a moment, it had felt like they could end the cycle.

And then the bones came.

Dozens of sharp, white bones along with few knife had impaled them from all directions. No warning. No hesitation.

Trust had been a mistake.

But this time... something was different.

Sans had opened the fight not with a taunt, or a threat, but with a quiet, unexpected suggestion.

"you know... if you reset, this could all stop."

For the first time in countless timelines, the human hesitated.

Their grip loosened on the toy knife in their hand.

Sans noticed. Bones surged upward, surrounding them like a trap primed to snap, but he didn't move. He watched. Waiting. The human didn't react. Not yet. He took that as permission to keep going.

"almost no one would remember, kid." His voice was softer now, like a whisper of wind through graveyard trees. "you could make a few friends. maybe even get Tori to adopt ya."

That name hit them like a blow to the chest.

They blinked, stunned, as memories flickered, of warm pies, gentle hands, and a soft voice asking if they wanted another slice. They'd killed her too. More than once.

Sans chuckled dryly, eyes flicking toward them but not with malice.

"'Val might not remember past timelines since this is the few time he's been here, but I do." His smile faded, voice growing serious. "if you keep doin' this... there's no goin' back. it's over. but..."

He extended a hand toward them. Not for an attack. Just... held it out. Open. Offering.

"if ya let me kill you, then you reset... we might even become friends? your call."

The hall was silent.

Tears welled up in the human's eyes before they could stop them. Their vision blurred. The toy knife slipped from their fingers and clattered loudly against the stone floor, the sound echoing through the Judgment Hall like a final judgment of its own.

They dropped to their knees, burying their face in their hands.

They were tired.

So tired.

Tired of hurting. Tired of running. Tired of the looks on their friends' faces when they realized what was happening. Tired of watching kind eyes go cold.

Sans knelt, still watching them carefully.

"is that a yes?"

They nodded.

It wasn't strong. It wasn't brave. But it was enough.

He hesitated again, then glanced toward the distant ceiling as though looking through time itself.

"can... can ya try to get a timeline where Val's made it to the underground?" he asked, voice cracking ever so slightly. "he's a good kid. just didn't have the greatest time with humans. deserves to know they're not all terrible. we're pretty sure that his family's the one who killed him before but-"

The human nodded again, cutting him off with the smallest of gestures.

Sans seemed to deflate. Slowly, he pulled down the hood of his jacket. A single glowing tear traced the curve of his left socket, vanishing as it fell.

Still, he smiled, softly, with something like peace.

"see ya on the other side, then."

Bones surged forward. Not as weapons, but as release. The human felt the impact, but no pain. Only warmth. The world faded into white, not black, and for the first time in forever...

A smile graced their lips as the timeline unraveled.

Chapter Text

Chill guys this is not an hiatus announcement. I just post this to ask about your opinion about something if you didn't mind. 

So as you know I'm currently attending college right now, and not many of you know this, but this is my seventh semester and that means it's time for me to think more seriously about my final research paper to graduate from collage. 

That is why I've been thinking about using Undertale storyline for my final paper research and decided to research about the importance of a character for the whole storyline using a morphology theory, in other words a character analysis. 

This is where I want your opinion. I can't decide which Undertale character I should chose to analyze because frankly I love them all (well except Jerry but nobody like him, he's as bad as Mineta in that department), so I'm thinking why not ask the reader? 

While I wouldn't mind to analyze the skele-bro, I prefer to use a rarely mention character to analyze because it'll be more interesting that way. So please let me know your opinion on this I appreciate any and all of your suggestion and help for this! 

P.S. please don't suggest OCs, crossover characters (yes that includes my baby Avallon), and any other AUs since I need to use the original Undertale characters. 

Chapter Text

Avallon shot upright in bed, gasping as if he'd just been dragged out of deep water. His hand flew instinctively to his chest, where the phantom pain of something sharp and burning still lingered deep in his monster soul.

For the fourth night in a row, the same nightmare had haunted him, always ending the same way, always slipping from his memory the moment he woke. But even if he couldn't recall the details, some things stayed with him: an eerie crimson glare, a bone-chilling grin, and a heavy sense of déjà vu that clung to his waking mind like a cobweb.

He let out a long sigh, rubbing at his eye sockets with both hands. Whatever that dream was, it had shaken him. Again.

A quick glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand confirmed it was only 6:30 AM. Not exactly early for monster standards, but it would do. With a yawn and a stretch that popped a few vertebrae into place, Avallon slipped out of bed. He padded quietly down the hall toward the kitchen, hoping to get breakfast started before a certain overly enthusiastic spaghetti enthusiast beat him to it.

If Papyrus got in there first, it was going to be pasta for breakfast, lunch, and dinner again, and while Avallon loved his brother with all his SOUL, his taste buds needed variety.

Avallon peeked out from the kitchen just as the familiar sound of Papyrus's heavy boots echoed down the stairs.

"G-good m-morning, Pappy!" he called out brightly.

"GOOD MORNING, AVALLON! I AM SURPRISED TO SEE YOU UP THIS EARLY," Papyrus bellowed with cheerful astonishment.

"I w-was already a-awake," Avallon replied with a shrug, flipping another pancake. "F-figured I'd make breakfast t-today."

"THAT IS VERY KIND OF YOU, LITTLE BROTHER!" Papyrus beamed, clearly proud.

Avallon grinned and returned to the stove. The pancakes were coming along nicely, he'd folded finely chopped crabapples into the batter for a touch of sweetness, and infused the mixture with a dash of harmless magic. Monster bodies couldn't digest non-magical food, after all. No stomachs, no intestines, just magical absorption.

The smell of warm fruit and browned batter filled the kitchen.

"LOOKS DELICIOUS AS ALWAYS, AVALLON!" Papyrus praised as he peeked over his shoulder.

"Th-thanks, big bro!" Avallon said. "Can y-you get Sans?"

"OF COURSE! I WILL SUMMON THE LAZYBONES MYSELF!" Papyrus declared, already bounding toward the stairs.

Avallon giggled to himself as he set the table. Breakfast-making had quietly become a habit over the past week, especially on mornings after bad dreams. Somehow, taking care of his brothers helped keep the anxiety at bay.

These weren't the nightmares he'd once had as a little child, fragmented flashes of pain, cold, and maybe human voices. No, these new dreams were different. Stranger. Sharper. Like they were memories from a different life he didn't remember living.

Crimson eyes. A horrible grin. A voice filled with malice.

He was still lost in thought when Papyrus's voice rang out from the second floor:

"SANS! YOU LAZY BONES! AVALLON IS WAITING DOWNSTAIRS WITH BREAKFAST!"

Avallon chuckled, rolling his eye lights fondly. Same routine, every day. Papyrus would yell, Sans would refuse, they'd argue about sleeping habits and puns, and eventually Papyrus would give up and physically haul him downstairs.

But not today. Avallon had a secret weapon this time.

"I made p-pancakes with k-ketchup!" he called.

There was a pause.

Then—ZAP!

A sudden blue flash lit up the room, and when Avallon blinked the spots from his eyes, Sans was already seated at the table, hunched lazily in his chair.

"What? W-walking down's too d-difficult now?" Avallon teased, one brow ridge raised.

"ehh, bones creak too much this early," Sans replied, already reaching for his plate. "besides, I go the extra mile... by skipping it."

Avallon snorted. "That's n-not how m-miles work."

He placed the ketchup-drenched pancakes in front of Sans, who gave a pleased hum and immediately dug in. Papyrus came stomping into the kitchen moments later, arms folded and eyes narrowed.

"SANS! I WISH YOU WOULD STOP USING SHORTCUTS INDOORS!" he huffed in exasperation.

"what? don't like pop-ups?" Sans quipped with a lazy grin, still chewing.

Avallon couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. Papyrus groaned, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself.

And just like that, the tension faded. The strange dreams, the haunting images, the sense that something wasn't quite right, all of it melted into the warmth of the kitchen, into the smell of pancakes and the sound of his family bantering at the breakfast table.

These were the mornings Avallon lived for. Peaceful. Familiar. Safe.

When Sans wasn't at Grillby's by the time Avallon got out of school, the young monster immediately sensed something was off. The familiar slump-shouldered figure was nowhere in sight, and that alone was enough to raise red flags in his mind.

With a small frown, Avallon tugged his hood higher over his skull and began walking toward the snow-dappled path leading out of Snowdin, the forested trail that stretched toward the edge of the Ruins.

He hadn't gone far when a sudden burst of excited barking echoed through the quiet trees. Before he could react, a fluffy white blur barreled straight into him, knocking him back into a drift of powdery snow.

"Annoying Dog!" Avallon laughed as the familiar white pup pounced on him, licking his face enthusiastically. He giggled, ruffling the dog's ears. "H-hey, b-bud! Missed y-you too."

The pup gave a proud yap, tail wagging so hard his entire body wiggled.

Avallon sat up and brushed snow off his hoodie. "I'm l-looking for Sans a-and maybe Papyrus. You h-haven't seen t-them, have you?"

Annoying Dog barked twice, affirmation.

"Oh, s-sweet! Lead the w-way, C-Captain Fluffball!"

With another joyful yip, the pup leapt out of his arms and began trotting ahead through the snow. Avallon followed eagerly, his boots crunching in the white blanket beneath them. They played as they traveled, seeing how far they could leap across snowbanks and laughing each time they landed in a poof of frost.

Along the way, they passed Dogamy and Dogaressa heading back toward town. The two dog monsters were muttering excitedly to each other about "weird-smelling puppies" and "dogs petting other dogs," their noses twitching suspiciously as they passed Avallon.

He waved, and they barked distracted greetings in return.

Further on, he stopped to help Lesser Dog make a towering snowdog sculpture, then flopped into the snow with Greater Dog for a short but energetic wrestle. When a panicked Doggo dashed past, muttering about seeing things again, Avallon calmed him down with a few dog biscuits he'd tucked into his school bag.

Annoying Dog pouted dramatically until Avallon handed him some too. "Spoiled little t-thing," he teased with a grin, earning another happy bark.

Eventually, Annoying Dog suddenly sprinted ahead, barking furiously as he disappeared around a snowbank. Seconds later, a familiar high-pitched scream echoed through the woods.

"Yup. T-that's Papyrus," Avallon muttered with a smirk and picked up his pace.

The trees opened up to reveal the long wooden bridge that connected Snowdin to the outskirts of the Ruins. There, in the middle of the bridge, stood a rather chaotic sight: Papyrus was flailing wildly, trying to shake a stubborn Annoying Dog off his leg while maintaining his composure. The pup was latched on like a tick, wagging his tail furiously.

Off to the side, Sans was leaning against a tree, wheezing with laughter.

"Sans! Papyrus!" Avallon called, waving as he jogged closer. "W-what are you-?"

His words caught in his throat.

There was someone else there.

A child stood hiding behind the lamp that strangely Sans insisted on putting it near his station, their expression unreadable. They wore an oversized blue sweater with a single faded purple stripe, their short frame dwarfed by the fabric. Brown hair fell just past their shoulders. Their eyes, deep, bright honey brown, locked onto Avallon's bright green eye lights with a strange, calm intensity.

A human.

Avallon froze.

Everything around him faded for a moment. The giggles, the barking, even Papyrus' cries of outrage, all went quiet as the cold wind swept over the bridge.

He couldn't explain it, but something about the human unsettled him. Not fear exactly... but a strange, prickling sense of familiarity. Of déjà vu.

The eyes.

Something about this moment whispered from the edge of his dreams, from those strange nightmares he could never quite remember. Bright red eyes. A wicked grin. Cold steel and laughter echoing in a void.

A sharp jolt of pain lanced behind Avallon's eye sockets, making him wince and stumble. One hand flew to his temple as a pained whine escaped his throat.

"Avallon?" Sans' voice cut through the noise, laced with worry, but it sounded distant, muffled.

Avallon groaned, collapsing to his knees as his vision blurred. He cradled his head in both hands, the world spinning around him.

That voice, it was soft, kind, and gentle. Familiar in a way that tugged painfully at something buried deep in his soul. The echo of a lullaby whispered through his being, and then-

Something pulsed within his SOUL.

A gentle warmth radiated outward, spreading through his bones like sunlight breaking through a cold fog. The bitterness, the confusion, the pain, it was momentarily silenced by that glow of love. He felt as if he were being gently pulled, cradled by unseen hands, and then-

With a gasp, Avallon was slammed back into his body.

He found himself curled in Sans' arms, trembling slightly. Papyrus' large hand cupped his cheek, cool and grounding, his orange scarf trailing across Avallon's shoulder.

He blinked slowly as the world came back into focus. His brothers' faces hovered over him, Papyrus looking frantic, Sans looking unusually serious.

Sans' usual lopsided grin had softened into something more real, more relieved. "good to see those pretty eye lights again, sleeping beauty," he said quietly.

Avallon huffed a small laugh despite himself. "I-I'm okay now," he whispered.

He pushed himself upright a little and glanced around, eager to shift the focus away from his episode. "W-was t-that... a-a h-human?"

"IT WAS INDEED!" Papyrus boomed, instantly snapping back into dramatic hero mode. "AND I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL BE THE ONE TO CAPTURE THEM!"

He struck a heroic pose, hand on his hip, scarf flaring in the breeze as if summoned by destiny.

Avallon tilted his head, frowning slightly. "Why w-were they... r-running toward t-town?"

"OH NO!" Papyrus yelped, spinning on his heel. "I MUST CUT THEM OFF BEFORE THEY REACH WATERFALL! THEN UNDYNE WILL FINALLY LET ME INTO THE ROYAL GUARD! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!" With that, he dashed off across the bridge, leaving a cloud of snow in his wake.

Sans, however, didn't move. His eye lights stayed on Avallon, intense beneath the shadow of his hood.

"Avallon."

The young monster winced slightly, not from pain this time, but from guilt. He looked away. "P-please... j-just leave it for l-later..."

For a moment, Sans said nothing. Then, he gave a small nod, tilting his head with a sigh.

"alright. later it is."

He helped Avallon stand, steadying him with one hand on his shoulder. The warmth of his presence lingered, and Avallon silently promised himself he'd talk about it. Just... not yet.

Not until he could face whatever those red eyes meant.

"YOU KNOW, SOMETHING STRANGE HAPPENED LAST TIME I WAS TRAINING WITH UNDYNE," Papyrus announced dramatically, gesturing with flair as the trio walked along the snowy path.

Sans looked over with a smirk. "oh? was there maybe..."

"SANS, NO!"

"Sans y-yes!" Avallon giggled from between his two older brothers.

"...something fishy?" Sans finished, snickering.

"WHY MUST YOU PLAGUE MY LIFE LIKE THIS?!" Papyrus cried out, clutching his skull in mock despair.

Avallon burst into laughter at Papyrus's melodramatic wailing, while Sans simply shrugged, his grin widening.

Unbothered, Papyrus cleared his throat with exaggerated dignity and tried again. "SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE-"

But he suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his posture freezing like a statue as he stared down the path ahead.

Avallon blinked and turned to follow his gaze. A lone figure was walking toward them, small, quiet, and very, very human.

Papyrus turned his head toward Sans and Avallon. Then back to the human. Then back to his brothers. Then to the human again. And again. And again. Each turn more exaggerated than the last.

Avallon and Sans exchanged a look, then joined in, having fun mimicking Papyrus's increasingly frantic head-turning like a synchronized routine. The three of them looked like confused owls.

Finally, Papyrus let out a loud gasp and threw his arms around both his brothers, dragging them into a huddle as though plotting an emergency mission.

"SANS! OH MY GOD!" Papyrus stage-whispered with dramatic urgency. "IS THAT... A HUMAN!?"

The three turned to stare again. Sans squinted.

"uhhh... actually, I think that's a rock."

Indeed, several feet behind the human was a particularly round rock, just sitting there minding its own business.

"OH."

Avallon snorted, grinning. "H-hey, what's t-that in f-front of the r-rock?"

Papyrus gasped again, even louder this time. He leaned in close to Sans and whispered with trembling excitement, "IS... IS THAT A HUMAN?"

Sans nodded solemnly. "yep."

"OH MY GOD!" Papyrus shouted, throwing his hands into the air. "BROTHERS! I FINALLY DID IT! I FOUND A HUMAN!"

He twirled around in a little victory dance, scarf flapping dramatically in the wind. "UNDYNE WILL- I'M GONNA- I'LL BE SO... POPULAR! POPULAR! POPULAR!"

Then, as if a switch had flipped, he abruptly straightened up and cleared his throat. His voice dropped to his serious (and very loud) "Royal Guard™" tone.

"HUMAN!" he declared, pointing boldly. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU! I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU!"

He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL! THEN... THEN... I'M NOT SURE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. BUT IN ANY CASE! CONTINUE ONLY IF YOU DARE!"

With that, he sprinted down the path, heading toward where he had left his puzzles. His booming laughter echoed behind him, full of anticipation and energy.

Avallon and Sans both chuckled at the display.

"well, that went well," Sans remarked, still grinning.

Avallon nodded, watching their brother's scarf disappear over the horizon. "H-haven't seen Paps t-that hyped in a w-while," he said fondly. Then he turned and started walking after him. "C-come on, w-we should help s-set up those puzzles b-before he hurts himself with e-excitement."

Sans ruffled Avallon's skull gently before the boy could get too far. "don't sweat it, kid. I'll keep an eye socket out for ya."

Then he followed after his little brother, hands in his pockets, smile lingering on his face.

"YOU TWO ARE SO LAZY! YOU'VE BEEN NAPPING ALL NIGHT!" Papyrus declared with his usual dramatic flair.

Avallon rolled his eye lights, already used to his brother's over-the-top complaints. He leaned lazily against a snow-covered tree and glanced over at the path, where the human had just arrived at their next puzzle, the infamous electric maze. He raised a hand and gave a casual wave. The human giggled and waved back shyly.

"I think that's called... sleeping," Sans replied, stifling a yawn.

"A-and I have the e-excuse of just g-getting back from s-school," Avallon added, crossing his arms with a playful smirk.

"EXCUSES, EXCUSES!" Papyrus huffed, stomping theatrically in the snow.

"Uh... g-guys?" Avallon interrupted, pointing toward the human who had taken a few tentative steps closer to the puzzle.

Papyrus's demeanor shifted instantly, eyes gleaming with excitement. "OH-HO! THE HUMAN ARRIVES!" he exclaimed.

"IN ORDER TO STOP YOU... MY BROTHERS AND I HAVE CREATED SOME PUZZLES!"

"I-I think y-you'll find t-this one... quite s-shocking," Avallon added with a mischievous grin, earning a groan from Papyrus and a giggle from the human.

"YES! FOR AS YOU SEE, THIS IS THE INVISIBLE ELECTRICITY MAZE!" Papyrus continued proudly, pulling a glowing blue orb from within his scarf.

"WHEN YOU TOUCH THE WALLS OF THIS MAZE, THIS ORB WILL ADMINISTER A HEARTY ZAP! SOUNDS LIKE FUN? BECAUSE! THE AMOUNT OF FUN YOU WILL PROBABLY BE HAVING! IS ACTUALLY RATHER SMALL, I THINK. OKAY, YOU MAY GO AHEAD NOW."

Avallon eyed the orb with mild amusement before looking back to Frisk. The human seemed uncertain and nervous, glancing between the bone brothers as if silently asking for guidance.

Avallon gave them a big thumbs-up. "Y-you got t-this."

Frisk gave a shaky but determined nod and took one careful step forward.

ZAP!

Papyrus let out a loud yelp as a spark jolted through his body. He leapt into the air, flailing like a startled cat.

Avallon immediately collapsed into a fit of laughter, clutching his sides as he rolled in the snow.

"SANS! WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Papyrus shouted, his bones still faintly crackling.

Sans blinked, completely deadpan. "hey, I'm not the one laughing here."

"AVALLON!"

The younger skeleton could barely breathe through his wheezing laughter. "I-I th-think... T-the h-human has to- haha! H-hold the orb... F-first!" he gasped out.

Papyrus straightened his posture with as much dignity as he could muster, despite the residual sparks. "OH. OKAY."

He marched through the maze, stomping deep footprints into the snow. Once across, he placed the orb gently on top of Frisk's head like a tiny crown.

"NOW HOLD THIS, PLEASE!"

He ran back across the exact same path he'd just stomped through and resumed his position beside Avallon and Sans, his chest puffed out proudly.

"OKAY! TRY NOW!"

Frisk smiled and carefully followed Papyrus's footprints one by one. They reached the other side safely and handed the orb back to Papyrus.

"INCREDIBLE!" Papyrus gaped. "YOU SLIPPERY SNAIL! YOU SOLVED IT SO EASILY... TOO EASILY!"

He dramatically swept his scarf over one shoulder. "HOWEVER! THE NEXT PUZZLE WILL NOT BE EASY! IT IS DESIGNED BY MY BROTHER, SANS! YOU WILL SURELY BE CONFOUNDED! I KNOW I AM! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!" He darted ahead, clearly thrilled.

"Great j-job, by th-the way," Avallon said, gently clapping Frisk on the shoulder. "By the w-way, what's y-your n-name? It's kinda u-unfair, y-you know all our names, b-but we don't kn-know yours."

The human gave a cheerful smile and responded using text box
*You say your name is Frisk

Avallon's eye lights brightened. "W-well. Nice t-to meet y-you, Frisk," he said warmly before strolling ahead, giving them space to talk with Sans.

Sans remained behind, watching Frisk with a lazy grin. "welp, kid. looks like you passed round one. don't sweat it, I'll keep an eye socket out for ya."

He gave them a playful wink before sauntering off after Avallon, whistling a slow tune as the snowy breeze swirled around them.

Sans grinned lazily as he leaned against a snowbank, watching the human approach with a half-eaten Nice Cream in hand. He could tell, light away they were in a good mood, their eyes bright, footsteps light, and a small smile tugging at their lips.

Since the kid was clearly showing a sense of humor this time around, he figured it was safe to break out one of his classic routines.

"heya, kid. y'know, I've been thinkin' about selling some treats too," he said casually, nodding toward an empty space beside him. "wanna buy some fried snow? it's just 5 gold."

Frisk paused mid-bite, then nodded slowly with an amused expression.

"did I say 5 gold?" Sans added, smirking. "nah, I meant 50 gold."

Still, the human nodded.

Sans's grin widened. "really now? how 'bout 5000 gold?"

Frisk gave another exaggerated nod, barely hiding a chuckle.

"50000 gold. that's my final offer."

They paused, bowed their head dramatically, then shook it no.

"what? you don't have the money?" Sans shrugged, nonchalantly waving a hand. "hey, that's okay. I don't have the snow."

That got a real laugh from the human. A grin split their face, until it faltered, shifting into a confused look as a familiar black box appeared above their head.
*You ask where Avallon is.

Sans blinked, surprised for a moment. He sighed, his grin fading just a little as his eyesockets lowered.

"heh... so you do remember the last Reset, huh?"

The human paused at that before gave him a small nod.

Sans rubbed the back of his skull, gaze dropping toward the snow. His voice turned quieter, more serious.

"'Val doesn't remembers anything up to the moment he died... not the Reset itself, just... the dream of it. freaky, huh?" He paused, then added softly, "poor kid's been jumpy ever since. kept worrying something'll happen."

Another line of text appeared.
*You ask what Sans means by 'kid.'

Sans snorted gently. "you didn't notice?" He crossed his arms, gaze distant. "'Val may act all proper sometimes, but he's just fourteen. and in monster years... that's barely seven."

Frisk's eyes widened, and their shoulders stiffened. Guilt flooded their expression, and a new text appeared shortly after.
*You apologize for killing Avallon during the last timeline.

Sans closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "look, kid... I ain't the one you should be sayin' that to." He turned away, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. "'Val's the one ya hurt. I've put him down for a nap back at the checkpoint. figured he didn't need to be around you just yet."

Frisk flinched. They stood in the snow for a long moment before typing out again:
*You ask Sans how to get there.

Sans didn't answer right away. He glanced up at the cloudy sky, quiet and unreadable. Then, he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, toward a winding path that branched off the main trail, half-hidden by a crooked pine.

"head that way. you'll find a little clearing just off the trail. small shelter there, nothing fancy. I'm not makin' promises, but... if you're lucky, he might be awake."

He paused, glowing eye lights briefly flickering back to Frisk.

"just... be gentle, alright? he's been through enough already."

Avallon cringed, sitting stiffly at the edge of a bench near one of the snow-covered puzzle stations. The chilly breeze didn't bother him, skeletons weren't exactly known for getting cold, but the way Sans was staring him down definitely did.

The eldest of the three brothers stood in front of him with arms crossed, eye lights glowing faintly under the shadow of his lowered skull. He wasn't smiling.

"S-So-" Avallon laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his skull. "P-Papyrus s-sure i-is h-having f-fun u-using h-his p-puzzles o-on t-the h-human, h-huh?"

"oh yeah," Sans replied dryly. The grin that stretched across his face wasn't amused. It was sharp. Tired. "y'know what else is a surprise? watchin' your baby bro keel over right in front of you."

Avallon flinched at the tone, shrinking slightly as the illusion of casual conversation broke. His grin faltered. "Ahaha..."

He looked down at his lap, his eye lights dimming. "P-please d-don't h-hate m-m-me..."

Sans blinked, his expression shifting. "why would I hate you?"

"B-Because I-I'm a-a fr-freak!" Avallon blurted, voice cracking. "B-because s-s-something's wrong w-with m-me!"

Sans's eye lights vanished.

He stood up so fast the snow crunched violently under his feet, bony hands slamming onto the wooden table with a loud THUD. Avallon gasped, jerking back in fear as the glowing cyan dots in Sans's sockets extinguished, leaving nothing but deep, dark hollows. A cold weight sank into Avallon's chest.

"P-P-Please d-d-don't s-se-end m-me a-away!" he whimpered, curling in on himself. He shut his sockets tightly, expecting the worst. "I-I'm s-s-sorr-r-ry, S-Sans! I-I'm so-orry-!"

But no hit came.

Instead, there was warmth.

Sans was kneeling in front of him, pulling him into a firm, protective hug. One arm wrapped around his back while the other gently cradled the back of his skull, guiding his face into the soft, familiar fuzz of Sans's blue jacket.

Avallon trembled in his arms, overwhelmed. Tears, glowing and green, welled up and began streaming silently down his cheeks as he clung to his brother like a lifeline.

"what makes ya think I'd ever do that?" Sans murmured, voice calm again, quiet, but no less serious. "you really think I'd toss out my baby brother 'cause he's got some stuff goin' on?"

Sans shifted his grip, lifting the smaller skeleton into his arms with practiced ease. Avallon said nothing, only sobbing as Sans carried him effortlessly, letting his legs dangle while his face stayed buried in Sans's shoulder.

They walked like that for a while, snow crunching underfoot and wind whistling softly around them.

After a few moments, Avallon hiccupped. His voice was hoarse, almost whispered.

"I-I've b-been h-having d-dreams... si-since I-I g-got m-my Cr-Crysalith..."

Sans tilted his head but said nothing, silently encouraging him to go on.

"D-Dreams a-a-about... a-about b-before y-you fo-ound m-ee," Avallon stammered. "S-Sans, I-I th-think I-I-I s-start re-e-emembering wh-when I-I used to be... h-human..."

Sans slowed, but kept walking.

Avallon continued in a rush, words spilling through his tears. "I-I-I h-had a-an A-A-Aunt... a-and a-an U-U-Uncle... I-I do-on't re-emembe-er th-their na-ames, b-but I-I-I r-remember th-their v-voices. Th-they h-h-hated m-me. T-Tre-eated m-me l-like I-I-I w-was a-a tr-trash, l-like I-I sh-shouldn't e-exist..."

His body shook in Sans's arms. "Th-they- th-they lo-locked m-me a-away. Star-starved m-ne. Be-beat m-me fo-for e-existing. A-a-and wh-when th-they g-got ti-tired o-of m-me..." He let out a sob, voice cracking. "T-Th-the-ey a-aba-abando-done-ned m-e-e ou-outsi-side... i-i-in th-the sn-sno-ow... t-to fr-freeze."

"I-I re-remembe-ber th-the c-c-cold... I-I re-reme-member fa-falling a-asleep i-in i-it. A-and th-then... n-nothing." He gripped Sans's jacket tightly, fingers trembling. "I-I th-think... I th-think th-that's wh-when I d-died..."

Sans was silent for a long moment, only the sound of the wind and Avallon's quiet crying between them.

Then he tightened his grip just a little more and pressed his forehead gently to Avallon's temple.

"...sounds like you got a past that tried real hard to break you, kid," he said quietly, his voice laced with sorrow and protectiveness. "but you're here. and you're ours. and no matter what you were before, you're my brother now. that ain't gonna change. ever."

Avallon sobbed harder but nodded, letting himself fall completely into Sans's embrace. He didn't know how long they stayed like that. But for the first time since the dreams began, the cold didn't feel so sharp.

He was safe.

Chapter Text

Papyrus arrived at the next puzzle a few minutes before his brothers, and it took another ten before Sans finally showed up, carrying a bundled-up Avallon in his arms. The human trailed after them, a light skip in their step and a healthy blush on their cheeks. While Papyrus chose not to comment... yet, he made a mental note to definitely interrogate them about it later.

The human looked much happier than earlier. Their face was flushed, eyes bright, and they were slightly out of breath, evidence of recent activity. Papyrus glanced at Sans, a silent question in his eye lights.

Sans shrugged with a lazy grin. “they played the ball game ‘til they got the red flag. stubborn lil’ thing.”

Avallon giggled and turned his attention forward just as Papyrus launched into another one of his grand declarations.

“HUMAN! I HOPE YOU’RE READY FOR…” Papyrus paused dramatically, only for his voice to trail off in confusion. His expression fell into a puzzled frown.

“SANS! WHERE’S THE PUZZLE?!”

Sans gave a half-hearted shrug and pointed at a sheet of paper lying flat in the snow. “it’s right there. on the ground.”

He smirked. “trust me. there’s no way they’ll get past this one.”

The human walked up, tilted their head, and picked up the paper. After a quick glance, they let out a soft giggle, then turned to the three skeletons and presented Papyrus with the already-completed word search.

“SANS!!” Papyrus exclaimed, clearly exasperated.

“S-sorry, Papy,” Avallon said finally managed to get Sans to put him down, holding up his hands in surrender. “I g-got bored y-yesterday, s-so I finished i-it for f-fun.”

Papyrus let out a long, dramatic sigh and slapped a hand to his forehead. Frisk and Avallon both burst out laughing.

“I Knew I Should’ve Gone With Today’s Crossword…” Papyrus muttered.

“No w-way! You s-should’ve p-picked sudoku!” Avallon argued, grinning.

“yeah. you know Avallon's terrible with numbers,” Sans said, waving it off. “wouldn’t’ve touched it with a ten-foot bone.”

“WHAT? I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TWO!” Papyrus groaned. “IN MY OPINION… JUNIOR JUMBLE IS EASILY THE HARDEST!”

“what? really, dude?” Sans raised a brow ridge. “that easy-peasy babybones scramble?”

“UN. BELIEVABLE.” Papyrus crossed his arms with a loud huff. He turned to the human, dramatic as ever. “HUMAN! YOU MUST SOLVE THIS TERRIBLE DISPUTE!”

“Y-yeah, Frisk,” Avallon added, leaning in. “Wh-which is h-hardest? Junior Jumble, Cr-Crossword, or Sudoku?”

The human looked between them, clearly amused. After a moment’s thought, they gave a bright smile and answered,
*You pick Junior Jumble

“HA! HA! YES!!” Papyrus cheered, clapping his hands together.
“HUMANS MUST BE VERY INTELLIGENT IF THEY ALSO STRUGGLE WITH JUNIOR JUMBLE! I KNEW I WASN’T ALONE!”

He turned with triumph in his step and marched away, laughing to himself, clearly pleased.

Avallon chuckled as he and Frisk watched him go. “T-thanks for b-backing him u-up,” he said softly.

“you saved us from a twenty-minute rant,” Sans added. “genuinely heroic.”

“Papyrus r-really does find d-difficulty in the s-strangest places,” Avallon said, shaking his head fondly.

“yesterday he got stumped trying to solve the horoscope,” Sans added with a snort.

The human giggled behind their hand, clearly entertained. After a brief wave to the two skeletons, they jogged ahead to follow Papyrus.

Avallon watched them go before turning to Sans. “...y-you think th-they’re having f-fun?”

Sans gave a small smile. “yeah, kiddo. I think they are.”

Together, the two skeletons took a shortcut through the trees, heading to the next puzzle spot before Papyrus could beat them there again.

Avallon watched from between the trees, half-hidden behind a snow-covered branch, as the human encountered the Royal Guard’s canine unit. One by one, Frisk defeated each dog in the most absurdly adorable way possible, by petting them into submission.

Avallon nearly melted on the spot from how wholesome it was.

But when it came to Lesser Dog, things took a turn from cute to mildly disturbing. The human kept petting and petting, and the more they did, the more Lesser Dog’s neck stretched, growing longer with every affectionate pat. Eventually, it looped backward and thudded into the snowy ground like some kind of wagging noodle.

“T-that… pr-probably violates a-a law of nature,” Avallon whispered to himself, equal parts amused and horrified.

And then came the snow arts.

After defeating the dogs, Frisk cheerfully got to work sculpting what Avallon could only assume were attempts at skeletons. The shapes were lumpy, the bones were uneven, and one of them had three arms for some reason. Avallon wasn't sure whether to be touched or mildly offended, but the human looked so proud of them that he couldn’t help but smile.

He stayed hidden as the human moved on, now facing one of Papyrus's many puzzles. This one was the X-to-O tile puzzle.

Frisk stared at the setup for a moment, tilted their head, and then zipped through it in less than a minute, lighting all the tiles correctly in their first try. Avallon blinked.

“O-okay, that was… i-impressive.”

Papyrus, of course, was stunned speechless at the human’s speed. Avallon would have congratulated Frisk, but he was too busy wheezing behind a snowbank, barely able to breathe from holding in his laughter.

Then came Alphys’s trap-puzzle, an elaborate and dramatic ice tile trap Papyrus had insisted was foolproof.

Only… when Papyrus tried to activate it, the entire board fizzled out, the flames failed to ignite, and a perfectly safe, straight path revealed itself right through the middle.

Frisk strolled through casually.

Papyrus looked as if someone had just told him spaghetti was illegal.

Avallon, meanwhile, collapsed back into the snow, cackling so hard that he almost summoned a blizzard by accident.

The next puzzle, the ice tile slide, gave the human a bit more of a challenge. Frisk slid into the wrong corner multiple times and wiped out near their latest attempt at a snow-sculpted “Sans,” which now looked more like a melted potato with a jacket. Despite the repeated failures, they kept smiling and laughing, even pausing to compliment Papyrus’s snowy craftsmanship as they passed by.

It took five tries before they finally solved the path, skidding to a stop just before triggering the bridge to the next area.

Waiting at the edge of the bridge was Greater Dog, sword in mouth, tail wagging, and armor jiggling with excitement.

Avallon peered out from behind a tree and relaxed the moment he saw Frisk immediately drop to their knees to play. Greater Dog dropped the sword, leapt into their arms, and proceeded to lick their face while wiggling like a joyful bean.

“Y-yeah… t-they’ll be f-fine,” Avallon murmured with a smile.

Confident that the human didn’t need help for this one, Avallon slipped away from the clearing, already planning to tease Sans later about being replaced in snow sculpture form.

Avallon sat cross-legged atop a familiar tree stump, nestled comfortably in the snow, as he watched the human finally arrive at the bridge, Papyrus's final challenge. Despite the dramatic build-up, he wasn’t particularly worried. After all, this was Papyrus they were talking about. The tall skeleton had a flair for the theatrical, but he was far too kind-hearted to truly hurt a kid.

“HUMAN!” Papyrus boomed, arms outstretched with pride. “THIS IS YOUR FINAL AND MOST DANGEROUS CHALLENGE!”

Avallon arched a bony brow as dramatic music seemed to play in his head.

“BEHOLD! THE GAUNTLET OF DEADLY TERROR!” Papyrus declared.

With a mechanical clank, various deadly weapons unfolded and dropped into view. Spiked balls dangled menacingly, cannons aimed low, spinning blades shimmered with frost, and even a fluffy dog hung from a rope, wagging its tail enthusiastically.

Avallon leaned forward slightly. Alright, maybe this did look intimidating from the human’s perspective.

“When I say the word,” Papyrus continued, his voice thundering with drama, “IT WILL FULLY ACTIVATE!”

The human’s eyes widened, clearly startled. Their legs tensed, hands balled into tiny fists. They were trembling, but to their credit, they didn’t run.

Avallon tilted his skull slightly, a mix of pity and admiration in his sockets. Gutsy, he thought. Most monsters would've bolted by now.

“CANNONS WILL FIRE! SPIKES WILL SWING! BLADES WILL SLICE! EACH PART WILL SWING VIOLENTLY UP AND DOWN! ONLY THE TINIEST CHANCE OF VICTORY WILL REMAIN!” Papyrus paused, pointing dramatically. “ARE YOU READY?! BECAUSE! I! AM! ABOUT! TO DO IT!”

Silence followed.

Papyrus didn’t move. The traps didn’t trigger. And the human… just stared in frozen anticipation.

From his perch, Avallon barely managed to muffle a laugh. This was so Papyrus.

“well?” Sans called lazily from the side. “what’s the holdup?”

Papyrus jumped, startled. “WHAT?! WHAT HOLDUP?! THERE’S NO HOLDUP!”

“I’m just saying,” Sans shrugged. “you said you were gonna activate it, and it’s still not activating.”

“I’M… I’M ABOUT TO ACTIVATE IT NOW!”

More silence.

Avallon covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter. He loved his brother, but wow was this a mess.

Sans looked back at Papyrus with an exaggerated blink. “doesn’t look very activated to me.”

“WELL!” Papyrus stammered, hands flailing. “THIS CHALLENGE! IT SEEMS… TOO EASY TO DEFEAT THE HUMAN WITH!”

He drew himself up proudly. “YEAH! WE CAN’T USE THIS ONE! I AM A SKELETON WITH STANDARDS! MY PUZZLES ARE VERY FAIR! MY TRAPS ARE EXPERTLY COOKED! BUT THIS METHOD? TOO DIRECT! NO CLASS! NO FINESSE! AWAY IT GOES!”

With the pull of a lever, the gauntlet disassembled with comedic clanks and pops. The weapons disappeared back into their compartments, leaving only an empty, slightly awkward silence.

Avallon grinned from side to side. The human sagged with visible relief. And even Papyrus looked more relaxed, his shoulders dropping as the tension bled away.

Maybe, Avallon thought, just maybe, they could all be friends after all.

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!” Papyrus shouted suddenly, pointing at the baffled child. “THIS WAS ANOTHER DECISIVE VICTORY FOR PAPYRUS! NYEH HEH!… HEH?”

Without another word, he spun on his heel and began marching back toward Snowdin, with Avallon hopping down to follow him. The younger skeleton gave the human a small wave and a warm smile before disappearing into the trees.

Frisk, still processing the chaos, took a deep breath and stepped toward the remaining skeleton.

Sans gave a lazy wave, hands tucked into his jacket. “whew. what a show, huh?”

“I don’t know what my brother’s gonna do now,” he said with a shrug. “but… if I were you, I’d make sure I understand how blue attacks work.”

Frisk tilted their head in confusion.

Sans smirked. “How good are you at jumping?”

Before they could ask, he let out a soft chuckle. “Eh, never mind. You’ll figure it out.”

He pointed down the path. “Up ahead’s Snowdin. You can rest at the Inn, grab some grub at Grillby’s… maybe even come visit us again.”

Frisk smiled and nodded
*You thank Sans

They turned and continued forward, their heart a little lighter.

Sans watched them go for a moment, then turned and stretched exaggeratedly. “welp, looks like our job’s done.”

He yawned dramatically. “time to go home and sleep the day away. stalking a human is exhausting.”

Frisk nearly cried with relief when the familiar wooden sign came into view, standing proudly at the town’s entrance:

Welcome to Snowdin

Without hesitation, they made a beeline for the cozy-looking shop nestled between the inn and the library. The cold clung to their clothes like a second skin, and the promise of warmth, and maybe even a moment of peace, was too tempting to resist.

As soon as they stepped inside, the warmth hit them like a soft blanket. The shop was rustic but welcoming, filled with various items, from cinnamon-bun-shaped plushies to bandages and healing items neatly arranged on wooden shelves. Behind the counter stood a rabbit-like monster, her fur a soft snowy white and her long ears twitching slightly. She looked up from her work and offered a polite nod.

A familiar black text box appeared above the human's head.
*You say hello.

To their surprise, the rabbit monster reacted not to the text, but as if she had actually heard their greeting.

"Hiya!" she said cheerfully. "Welcome to Snowdin! I can't remember the last time I saw a fresh face around here."

Her red eyes gave the human a brief once-over before her expression shifted from cheerful to concerned. She leaned in slightly, noticing the horizontal stripe on their shirt, a design that, in monster culture, marked them unmistakably as a child.

"Where did you come from sweetie? The Capital?" she asked, tilting her head. "You don’t look like a tourist... Are you here by yourself?"

The human hesitated, eyes darting to the floor. They chose not to answer.
*You ask the Monster what there is to do here.

“Oh, you’re looking for things to do?” The shopkeeper brightened again.

“Well, Snowdin might be small, but we’ve got our charm! Grillby’s is the local bar and grill, great food, and warm too. The library’s next door if you’re curious about monster history. Or if you're feeling tired, the inn right next door is perfect for a nap. My sister runs it, tell her I sent you, she’ll give you a discount.”

She leaned on the counter with a friendly smile. “And if you’re bored, you can always hang out outside and watch those wacky skeletons goofing off.”

The human’s expression softened with a small smile.

“There’s three of them,” the bunny continued thoughtfully. “Brothers, I think. The older two used to live here before they moved to the Capital for a while. They moved back a few years ago, brought their youngest sibling with them that time. Things have been a lot more lively ever since.”

*You ask why the younger skeleton showed up later.

The shopkeeper tapped her chin, ears twitching. “That’s the thing, nobody really knows. The older two, Papyrus and Sans, were already pretty well known around here. Papyrus was always super energetic, and Sans… well, he was already pulling his weird jokes.”

She chuckled, then her tone turned thoughtful.

“But the little one? The first time I saw him, Sans dragged him into Grillby’s like he was carrying a lost kitten. The kid looked terrified. He clung to Sans’s coat like it was the only solid thing in the world. Like he’d never been inside a restaurant before.” She gave a small, puzzled shake of her head. “It was… kind of sad, honestly.”

The human frowned, processing the new information. The youngest skeleton had joined them later… and had been scared, withdrawn. That didn’t fit the confident little mage they’d seen before, or the determined fighter they remembered during the last Reset.

Something must have happened in a timeline before this one… something they didn’t remember.

And suddenly, they felt the weight of it all again: the resets, the timelines, the lives rewritten and undone.

They quietly thanked the rabbit and turned toward the exit, the bell above the door jingling softly as they stepped back into the snowy street, eyes fixed on the direction Sans had pointed them in earlier.

Avallon raised a bony eyebrow as the front door burst open and Papyrus charged inside like a rocket made of enthusiasm.

Avallon awoke the next morning sprawled across a slumbering Sans, still curled up on the couch where they'd fallen asleep the night before. His skull rested against his brother's shoulder, the warmth of their shared blanket keeping the lingering chill of Snowdin at bay. Faint rays of early artificial sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting soft beams over the living room.

Chapter Text

"Yo! Avallon!"

Avallon looked up from his schoolbooks, twitching at the familiar voice. Monster Kid was sprinting toward him, his grin stretched ear to ear, as he practically bounced with excitement.

"H-hey, MK?" Avallon greeted, slightly confused but already bracing himself for whatever chaotic news was coming.

Monster Kid skidded to a stop in front of him, panting slightly but beaming. "Oh my gosh! They say Undyne is chasing down a human right now!"

Avallon froze.

His eyes widened just for a second, then he forced a laugh, waving a hand like it was nothing. "Ahahaha... r-really? Th-that's w-wild."

Oh. Fucking. Hell. (Don't tell his brothers that he knew curse words please!)

Monster Kid was practically vibrating with energy now. "Yes! It's all over town! She's going full Undyne! You have to come see! What if she catches them?!"

Avallon didn't reply.

Because the little skeleton had already bolted, books forgotten, legs pumping as fast as they could go, kicking up clouds of dust in his wake.

"W-wait up!" Monster Kid shouted, scrambling to chase after him.

But Avallon was already gone, SOUL pounding, mind racing, panic clutching at his SOUL like a vice.

Because if Undyne really was chasing a human...

And if that human was Frisk...

He had to get there first.

Frisk really hated their life right now.

Okay, sure, they kind of hated their life on a regular basis, but this? This took the fucking cake.

Running for your life from a furious Royal Guard determined to pry your SOUL out of your body like a prize token was not exactly how they imagined spending their afternoon. And definitely not in Echo Valley, of all places.

But then again... Frisk had never been the type to back down from a challenge.

Their lungs burned, boots slipping slightly on damp stone as they ducked beneath a low arch of glowing mushrooms. The soft, whispering glow of Echo Flowers surrounded them, each one whispering ancient hopes and long-forgotten words into the dark, humid air.

"I want to see my daughter again..."

"Don't give up... stay determined."

The voices should've been comforting. They weren't.

Frisk's hand tightened around the edge of the heavy cloak swaying around their shoulders, a gift from Avallon, pressed into their arms with urgency just before this entire mess began. It had done a surprisingly good job hiding them from Undyne's relentless gaze... at least, until it didn't.

Now they were being hunted through Waterfall.

They only hoped Avallon wouldn't get in trouble for helping them.

*You feel your sins crawling on your back.

Not now, Chara.

Frisk scowled, brushing a wet leaf from their face as they bolted past a cluster of glowing reeds.

Up ahead, resting half-dozed on his sentry stand, was Sans.

And just a few feet in front of him, Avallon.

The younger skeleton monster stood with his back straight, his shoulders stiff but his grin mischievous as ever. His glowing green eye met Frisk's for a heartbeat, then he lifted both hands in an exaggerated shoo-ing gesture. His body language practically screamed "I've got this. You keep going."

Frisk didn't hesitate.

They shot past him without a word, heart hammering, cloak flapping behind them like wings. Every step echoed, but they didn't dare slow down.

"U-Undyne!" Avallon's voice rang out behind them, a perfect mix of innocence and panic. "Over here!"

The sudden screech of metal scraping against stone followed, Undyne's enraged shout splitting the air like a lightning bolt. "WHERE IS THAT HUMAN?!"

Frisk nearly tripped mid-stride from trying not to laugh.

She was so mad.

Behind them, the chaos only grew louder. They could faintly hear Avallon's voice, louder now, feigning distress, as he led the furious warrior away from their trail.

Frisk didn't stop running.

But a small smile tugged at their lips.

"Sans! Wake up and keep the brat on a leash! He keeps getting under my feet!"

Avallon dangled in the air by the scruff of his cloak, held aloft by none other than Undyne, the terrifying-yet-admittedly-awesome Head of the Royal Guard like an unruly kitten. His stubby legs kicked the air a little as he looked up at her with his best innocent expression.

He smiled sweetly. "H-hey Undyne? C-Could I ask you something...?"

Undyne scowled, clearly impatient. "I'm in a hurry," she barked, her crimson eye twitching with barely restrained annoyance.

But Avallon had prepared for this. Oh yes, he had trained for this moment.

Big, watery green eye lights shimmered with carefully fabricated tears as his lower lip began to tremble with just the right touch of vulnerability. He tilted his head, blinking up at her from beneath the edge of his hood like the picture of pitiful, helpless, innocent babybones.

Undyne blinked, visibly faltering.

Her grip on his cloak loosened slightly.

He could see it, her resolve beginning to waver.

Gotcha.

"Fine!" she snapped, looking away as though the very act of showing mercy physically pained her. "But make it quick!"

Avallon beamed, practically radiating smug satisfaction.

Operation: Puppy Eyes, Skeletal Edition - Success.

"Thank y-you, Undyne!!" he chirped, almost sparkling as Sans snorted into his sleeve, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement.

"U-um," Avallon began, playing the shy card now, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves and glancing up at her through his sockets. "We're learning about the Royal Guard in class, and I-I was wondering... would you maybe come in and t-talk about it? L-like, for school, I mean. If you're not, um... too busy?"

Undyne stared at him, expression unreadable. For a moment, Avallon worried he'd pushed it too far.

Then she grunted, clearly uncomfortable but resigned. "Sure. Whatever. Just, stay put."

Before he could answer, she tossed him like a sack of potatoes into Sans' open arms. The older skeleton caught him without flinching, letting out a soft "heh" as Avallon wiggled himself into the crook of his brother's fluffy blue jacket like a particularly smug kitten.

"I've got a human to catch," Undyne growled, already stomping off in the direction Frisk had disappeared.

Avallon snuggled deeper into Sans' jacket, peeking over the fuzzy collar with exaggerated wide eyes.

"Oh wow," he said, voice high with faux surprise. "A h-human? H-here?"

Undyne didn't even dignify that with a response. She just stomped off, muttering curses under her breath as her red ponytail whipped behind her like a battle flag.

The moment she was out of earshot, Sans burst into laughter.

"babybones," he chuckled, still shaking with mirth, "you've got way too much power for someone your size."

Avallon simply smiled, the very picture of smug innocence as he crossed his arms and relaxed in his brother's hold.

"Y-you burned Undyne's house down?! H-how are you still alive?!" Avallon squeaked, eyes wide as he looked from a soot-covered Frisk to where Undyne was speaking with Papyrus outside the front door.

Frisk, completely unbothered, shrugged and made themselves comfortable on the couch, their feet tucked beneath them. The smell of smoke still clung faintly to their clothes, but they seemed far more interested in the anime playing on the TV, one of the DVDs Alphys had lent the brothers during her last visit for Avallon's checkup.

Frisk smiled slightly and tapped a closed fist to their chest in a few slow clockwise circles "Sorry" in sign, their way of apologizing without words. They didn't speak often, but their meaning was always clear.

Sans chuckled softly, ruffling both their heads with one bony hand before stretching and rising to his feet.

"alright, I'm headin' to Grillby's," he said around a yawn, pulling his hood up. "make sure you two head to bed after this episode, capiche?"

"Capiche," Avallon echoed with a salute, even as his attention drifted back to the screen.

Frisk nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.

The older skeleton gave a lazy wave as he stepped out the front door, disappearing before it even clicked shut behind him.

There was a beat of silence before Avallon leaned sideways, crossing his arms and staring at the space Sans had just occupied.

"...One day," he muttered with a pout, "I'm g-gonna found o-out how he -ddo that."

Frisk burst out laughing, nearly toppling sideways off the couch in the process.

Avallon grinned at the sound. It was rare to hear Frisk laugh like that, really laugh. Usually it was small smiles or short huffs of amusement, but this was genuine. It made the earlier stress melt off his bones just a little.

"...But s-seriously though," he whispered after a beat, glancing back toward the front window, "H-how did you s-survive burning d-down Undyne's h-house?"

Frisk simply smiled mischievously and winked, as if to say: That's a secret I'm taking to my grave.

Avallon stared for a moment, then sighed dramatically, sinking back into the couch with a groan.

"I'm s-surrounded by c-chaos gremlins." he dramatically despaired, like he isn't one of said chaos gremlins.

Frisk grinned wider.

Before long, Papyrus returned home to find Avallon and Sans sound asleep on the couch, the soft blue glow of the TV still flickering across their faces. The volume was low, playing the ending credits of some obscure late-night show Alphys probably insisted was "iconic."

"hey, Avallon~ wakey wakey~"

Avallon was perched at the very edge of his seat, eye lights glued to the television screen as Frisk's battle with Mettaton EX played out live on air. His hands trembled as he wrung them in front of his chest, lips pressed into a thin line. Every time Frisk narrowly dodged a bomb, his breath hitched.

*You said hello!

Avallon blinked in realization. He knew why Sans was so lazy. If what he thought had happened had actually happened... If everything could be undone within seconds...

Suddenly, he sympathized a lot more towards his oldest brother's habits.

Chapter Text

They had been dead for a very long time.

They remembered that they had been fourteen when they died, just a child, but they couldn't even recall how many years had passed since they and Asriel (their brother) had carried their lifeless body to the surface, laying it gently upon the golden flowers that bloomed in the village where they had once been born.

It had been so long, too long, since the humans who had hated them from the moment they drew breath saw their brother standing there, cradling their corpse.

And then, they attacked.

Asriel had been killed by those wretched humans. Torn apart not because he fought back, but because he didn't.

Because he wouldn't.

Because he refused.

Why didn't he fight back?!

Why had he let them win?!

He should have fought. He should have destroyed them. But instead, he let them kill him.

They had always possessed an iron will, a soul overflowing with DETERMINATION, strong, unyielding. It was that same strength that had let the first human linger in the void between life and death. Their soul should have faded away. But it didn't.

It was their DETERMINATION that kept Chara tethered to the world they had come to despise. DETERMINATION that held them in the Void as they watched the Underground shift, twist, change without able to interact with their love ones.

They watched as human after human fell into the Underground, some trembling, some brave, only to have their SOUL stolen by the man Chara had once called "Dad." But none of them were strong enough. None of them had the DETERMINATION to change anything.

Until the seventh human.

Until Frisk.

A child with a red SOUL. A child who could SAVE. A child who could RESET.

Frisk... looked so much like Chara had at that age. Same small frame, same fire in their eyes, just with darker hair, darker skin. And like Chara once had, they too held that blinding DETERMINATION.

Chara had noticed it the moment Frisk killed a Moldsmal in a panic. And then, accidentally, Toriel.

(She replaced me, Chara thought bitterly. She forgot me.)

Frisk's guilt radiated like a pulse in the timeline, so thick and strong that Chara latched onto it. They whispered softly, comforting, promising, anything to lessen the guilt that their little reincarnation had.

Because once upon a time they felt exactly like that.

Chara wouldn't let anyone hurt their little reincarnation. They would protect them. They would guide them.

They would teach them how to wield that DETERMINATION.

Because the world beyond was cruel.

And Frisk would not be killed. Not like Chara had. Not like Asriel.

The monsters had forgotten.

But then, a   D I R T Y   B O D Y   S N A T C H E R   appear and ruined everything!

And Frisk... Frisk couldn't fight them back from controlling their body like a marionette pn a string.

It left a trail of dust and destruction on its wake.

It always killed everyone and anyone without Mercy.

It will prolonged any of its victims inevitable death for It's own amusement.

Have you ever had a moment where you begin to act crazy, but then you see someone so far off the deep end you literally take a step back to reevaluate your life decisions? That’s what happened here.

Frisk had begged for It to stop. Pleaded through tears. But whatever power It had was older. Stronger. Deeper.

They pushed forward, playing using their little incarnation, Frisk body, as the medium.

And then It reached him.

The lazy sentry. The Smiley Trashbag.

The one who had watched everything.

The one who knew too much.

The one who carried just as much HATE as Chara did, buried under his jokes and slouch.

As they watched the skeleton dissolve before them, bloodless, silent, undone, Chara felt Frisk snap.

The child's DETERMINATION surged.

And in that instant, it overwhelmed It's CONTROL.

Frisk took back control.

And RESET.

The world shifted. Banishing It to whatever hell hole it came from.

And for the first time, Chara saw things differently.

Frisk was kind, painfully, stupidly kind, buried under the trauma of what humans had done to them. Chara could see it. Could feel it through their connection.

They watched as Frisk forgave. As they helped.

As they healed.

Chara was with them every step of the way during the Pacifist run. Slowly, bit by bit, their hatred, once all-consuming, began to flicker. Begin to dim.

Why?

Why were they feeling this?

Why did they feel regret?

Why did they feel... remorse?

Frisk still loved this world, this cruel world. Even after all it had done to them.

They wanted nothing to do with LOVE. Not the fake, twisted kind that counted kills. Frisk's love was different.

Chara didn't understand.

Not yet.

But maybe... they wanted to.

When Frisk was born, the name written on their birth certificate was Virgo. They were the only child of two loving parents, Cygnus and Marine Black. The Blacks didn't have much, but they were content with their quiet life. Their home was filled with laughter, bedtime stories, and late-night cuddles under threadbare quilts. What they lacked in wealth, they made up for in warmth.

They killed Toriel by accident.

Frisk stood frozen, their entire body trembling, the toy knife slipping from their fingers and clattering onto the stone floor. It echoed like a gunshot in the silent Ruins.

Before them, where Toriel had stood only moments ago, there was now only a gentle, crumbling pile of dust and the shattered remains of her Crysalith.

"No... no, no, no-!" Frisk choked out, collapsing to their knees. Their small hands reached out as if to gather the dust back together, to undo what had been done, to bring her back. But the dust slipped through their fingers like ash, and the warmth that had once existed in the Ruins, the feeling of safety, of being wanted, was gone.

Toriel had been the first person in a long, long time to show Frisk any kindness. She had offered warm meals and gentle words. She had tried to keep them safe. She had called them "my child."

And Frisk had killed her.

Their sobs broke the silence, loud and raw. They clutched at their head, as if they could block out the memory, as if they could scream loud enough to erase what they'd done.

Then-

"I'll make it stop..."

A voice, soft and coaxing, whispered into their mind. It wasn't Frisk's voice, it's also not Chara's, it was unfamiliar, as though it had always been there, waiting for moments like this.

"Let me take over, and the pain will end."

Frisk's breath hitched. The voice sounded so gentle. So understanding.

"I'm the only one you can trust. I'm the only one who's ever been there for you. You've seen how they treat you. You've seen how they hurt you. Let me help. Let me fix this."

The grief was too much. The guilt, the horror, the silence of the Ruins without Toriel, it was too much.

Frisk closed their eyes.

Even with Chara's warning. They let the darkness swallow them.

When they opened again, the eyes were no longer honey brown.

They were red.

_____ opened their mouth and laughed, a gleeful, cruel sound that rang across the Ruins like a bell of doom. They looked down at the remains of the monster who had tried to care, and their smile twisted into something sharp.

"Finally! It's my turn to play~"

They stood, slow and deliberate, brushing dust from their knees. The toy knife lay at their feet, but it was no longer a toy. It shimmered with a darker edge now, tainted by intent.

"Let's see here," _____ whispered to the empty air. "Every single monster who lives here. How long do you think it takes to clear them out?"

Their smile widened, cruel and somehow twisted with childish.

"Let's found out shall we~"

They tilted their head and glanced at their reflection in the cracked ruins wall, Frisk's own face staring back at them.

"You gave me the knife little puppet," _____ said softly. "Now, it's my turn to play."

And with that, they turned and walked onward through the Ruins.

Not as the fallen child.

But as something far more dangerous.

Frisk hadn't wanted to kill Papyrus.

They never wanted to kill Papyrus.

But _____ had whispered in their ear, voice sweet like poison, promising that the more LOVE they gathered, the more the pain would fade. That it would stop hurting, stop feeling. That if Frisk just let go, everything would be okay.

So Frisk let go.

But even with _____ in control, even as their limbs moved like a puppet's on strings, the tears wouldn't stop falling down their cheeks.

Papyrus had believed in them. Even in the end.

The tall skeleton stood in the middle of the Snowdin path, arms wide, a hopeful grin still stretched across his face despite the battle that had already left him battered.

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS!" he declared proudly, his voice filled with warmth, as if Frisk hadn't already raised their weapon.

_____ struck.

The blade sliced through the soft magic of his body, and the blow made Papyrus stumble, bones beginning to crack and crumble at the edges. But he didn't falter, not in the way that mattered.

"W-WELL, THAT'S NOT W-WHAT I EXPECTED..." Papyrus stammered, trying to keep his stance upright as pieces of him began to dissolve into dust.

And yet, he smiled.

"B-BUT STILL! I B-BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU C-CAN DO A LITTLE BIT BETTER, EVEN IF YOU DON'T THINK SO!"

_____ stepped forward, expression blank, eyes glowing red.

Frisk screamed inside their mind, begging them to stop. Please stop. Please, no, not him.

But _____ ignored them.

"I-I PROMISE!"

Papyrus's final words lingered in the cold air as his body finally gave way, collapsing to his knees, then to dust.

And then, without hesitation, _____ raised their foot.

Frisk watched, powerless, as _____ brought their heel down, crushing what remained of Papyrus's skull with a sickening crack that echoed through the forest like the breaking of a heart.

The snow was silent.

The path ahead was clear.

"One down..." _____ said calmly, stepping over the remnants of the monster who had dared to believe in them. "And many more to go~"

Frisk said nothing.

They couldn't.

Their voice was buried somewhere deep beneath the growing weight of LOVE, muffled by guilt, silenced by sorrow.

But even in silence, the tears did not stop.

Monster after monster.

Fight after fight.

They killed them all.

Every.

Single.

One.

It didn't matter if they were strong or weak. It didn't matter if they begged or fought. They all turned to dust beneath Frisk's trembling hands.

And through it all, the voice echoed in their mind, smooth, calm, relentless.

Frisk's body moved without their consent, a puppet moved by it's strings, the toy knife clutched tightly in their grip, stained with magic and dust. Their heart thudded in their chest, but it didn't feel like it belonged to them anymore.

Sometimes, they cried. Silent, bitter tears that trailed down their cheeks, unnoticed by anyone except the one who shared their soul.

"Stay with me," Chara whispered, voice gentle, coaxing, like a lullaby in a nightmare. "Don't look. Don't think about it. You're safe with me. It'll be over soon."

Frisk couldn't speak. Couldn't scream. Their voice was buried deep beneath layers of grief and guilt, smothered under the weight of what they'd done, what _____ had made them do.

"I'll stop the pain," Chara promised. "I'll make sure no one ever touches you again. No more hurt. No more betrayal. Just you and me. Together."

Frisk closed their eyes and wished the world would end.

But instead, they kept walking.

And the Underground grew quieter with every step.

Avallon confronted them moments after Undyne fell, the moment they set their foot at Hotland.

The small monster stood across from them, tears pooling in his wide eye sockets. An orange scarf fluttered around his neck, tattered at the ends. His deep purple hood was pulled low over his skull, and his cloak swayed gently in the warm wind of the cavern.

He stared at them, not in fear, but in fury.

The world around them fell into an unnatural silence as the reality itself seemed to dim, the air thick with magic and sorrow.

A familiar tension coiled in the air.

His battle theme began to play.

_____ didn't move. They stood tall, silent, calculating, while Avallon raised his phalange. In a shimmer of green light, his polearm materialized in his grip. The weapon pulsed faintly with raw elemental magic.

—————————————

AVALLON
HP: 250
ATK: 10 (+25)
DEF: 5 (+15)

*Avenging his brother.
Just a little kid.

—————————————

"W-Why...?" Avallon's voice cracked, thick with grief. His fingers trembled, but he didn't lower his weapon. "Why did you k-kill him? He BELIEVED in you!"

Before Frisk could respond, before their guilt could take shape, _____ surged forward, blade flashing.

But Avallon dodged.

Effortlessly.

"I may be young," he said coldly, eye sockets narrowing, "But I'm not useless. I learned a thing or two from my brothers."

Frisk winced inwardly, trapped in their own body as the battle dragged on.

They hated this part of _____'s game the most.

Fighting someone.

_____ smirked, lips curling into something cruel, red eyes gleaming under their bangs.

Avallon's breathing grew heavier, shallow and fast, but his phalange didn't waver. His magic flared bright green around the polearm.

"Y'know," he muttered, stepping back as another strike narrowly missed him, "This is my first real fight."

He twirled his polearm smoothly, then leveled it toward them with a flick of his wrist.

"I've never had the chance to use my special attack."

The temperature began to drop. Slowly, steadily, unnaturally. Mist curled from _____'s mouth as they exhaled, the once-fluid cavern water beneath them turning solid, white spiderweb cracks racing along the surface.

The battlefield iced over.

"Go!"

Shards of ice began to rise, long, sharp, and gleaming, encircling the two of them.

"To!"

More spears erupted upward, humming with pure elemental energy, the chill stinging even _____'s bones.

"H E L L!"

The ice shot forward, blindingly fast.

Too fast.

Even for _____.

They dodged left, missed one, right, another struck. One embedded into their side, another sliced through their arm, and one shattered the ground beneath their feet.

Crack.

Crack.

CRACK.

The screen glitched. The SOUL, Frisk's SOUL, glowed red one last time...

And then it shattered.

Silence.

Avallon dropped to his knees, breath ragged, magic dimming. The polearm dissolved into soft green light, scattering like fireflies into the dark.

He didn't celebrate. He didn't smile.

He just sobbed.

He always crying.

It took fifty tries to get past Avallon's special attack.

In the end, he was just too tired, too drained from expending so much magic, too heartbroken to go on. _____ had memorized his movement patterns, his dodges, the rhythm of his breath. And once they did...

It was over.

He choked as the final strike landed, a deep stab wound burried itself onto his small chest. His trembling phalange clutched at the wound, blood, or whatever passed for it in monster skeletons, dripping onto the icy ground. His green eye lights, now glassy and wet with tears, locked onto theirs as the fading world regained its color.

"...Why?" he whimpered.

Frisk felt their heart twist with guilt.

But _____ was quick to crush it.

"I-I might be too much... of an optimist..." Avallon coughed, every word a strain. "B-but... somewhere in there, y-you're a kid... j-just like me..."

His voice trembled as he continued, more breath than strength. "What... what h-happened to you... t-that made you think... killing e-everyone... was the answer...?"

_____ tilted their head. Their eyes gleamed crimson.

"Because..." they whispered, "it's more fun to see you monsters struggle~"

It wasn't Frisk's voice. Frisk hadn't spoken in years, not since their parents died. The trauma had stolen their voice and sealed it behind silence. This voice, however, didn't belong to them.

It was warped. Too high and airy to be normal, yet somehow deep, a child's voice coated in sadistic glee of seeing others in pain.

It didn't belong to any human.

It belonged to ______.

Avallon shivered at the sound, every part of him screaming that something was wrong.

He tried to take a step back. "P-Pappy... Sans..."

He wasn't looking at _____ anymore.

He was looking past them.

Eye lights wide. Hopeful. Longing.

"...B-big brother...?" he breathed.

There was no one there.

No one to save him.

No one left to stop _____.

Avallon stumbled, knees buckling as he fell to the ground, SOUL flickering a pale, dim green. It pulsed once, weakly, like a heartbeat struggling to hold on.

"I... I'm sorry..."

His voice cracked, and then his eyes glazed over.

He collapsed face-down on the frost-covered ground.

A breath. A heartbeat. Then-

Dust.

He dissolved where he lay, scattered by the cavern wind.

_____ didn't flinch. Didn't stop. They stepped through the ashes with their borrowed body and wore a grin so wide, it nearly split their face.

It was unhinged. Empty. Too large for the face it belonged to.

And then-

A scream tore through the air.

Raw.

Grief-stricken.

Agonized.

It echoed through Hotland, bouncing off the stone walls like a dying melody. Whether it was a monster's wail or the world itself crying, even _____ didn't pause to wonder.

Frisk wept.

Trapped in a cage deep within their own SOUL, their knees drawn to their chest, they curled inwards.

They were ten years old.

And already, they'd lost everything.

_____ just kept killing.

One by one, the monsters fell, familiar faces, kind voices, hopeful smiles, all turned to dust beneath their blade.

Frisk hadn't wanted this. They never had.

They didn't want to hurt anyone. They didn't want to watch friendships crumble into ash, to hear the screams of people who once believed in them. All they had ever wanted... was to be free.

Free from the pain.

Free from the loneliness.

Free from the crushing weight of a life they never asked for.

But it wasn't.

Frisk knew that.

But it was too late.

______ didn't care.

This is only a game to them. And now, Frisk could feel them settling deeper into their skin, burrowing into their mind like a parasite that wouldn't leave.

Frisk wanted to scream.

To fight.

To run.

But their body didn't respond to them anymore. Their hands moved without consent. Their mouth curled into a grin they didn't feel. Their feet walked forward, step after step, toward the next innocent life.

They were a passenger now.

And as the dust settled from another battle, another soul extinguished, Frisk felt something more terrifying than anger or sorrow.

They were starting to lose hope.

Monsters continued to fall.

Dust clung to the air like smoke after a fire, choking the path behind them.

_____ walked forward, relentless.

And Frisk, buried deep within their own mind, could do nothing but watch as their borrowed hands dripped with the remains of friends who once smiled at them.

The Judgment Hall was beautifully crafted, Frisk noted numbly. Its golden walls shone with a false warmth, bathed in the glow of artificial sunlight filtering through the grand arched windows. The air shimmered with suspended motes of dust, glittering as they danced slowly through the silence.

Their footsteps echoed across the polished tile like thunder.

Then, someone stood in their path.

A familiar figure. Slouched posture. Blue jacket. But this time, an orange scarf fluttered lightly around his neck, the ends peeking out beneath a deep purple cloak.

Sans.

_____ smirked, lips twitching with cruel anticipation.

A distant bell tolled-

One.

Two.

Three.

"Heya," Sans greeted, voice low, hollow. His grin was still there, but it didn't reach his eye sockets. The usual mischief had long since drained from his tone. Now, his eye lights burned, not with humor, but with fury. Cold. Controlled. "So you finally made it."

He gave them a once-over.

"You've been real busy, huh?"

_____ didn't reply. Frisk could feel their annoyance rising, like a slow boil beneath their skin.

Sans didn't seem to expect an answer. He simply closed his eyes and let out a long, tired sigh.

"So, I've got a question for ya." His skeletal fingers curled around the orange scarf, gripping it tightly. "Do you think... Even the worst person can change? That everybody can be a good person... If they just try?"

For a moment, the hallway held its breath.

Frisk wanted, needed, to scream. But their mouth wouldn't move.

They could feel Sans searching, scanning, for someone. For them.

Sans opened his eyes.

"All right," he said softly. "Then here's a better question."

His grin remained, but the lights behind his sockets went out, leaving only endless darkness.

"Do you wanna have a bad time?"

_____ giggled.

That mocking, sadistically, gleeful sound echoed through the hall like a death sentence.

Sans sighed again, only this time, there was no humor in it. Only weariness.

"'Cause if you take another step forward..." He tilted his head. "You are REALLY not going to like what happens next."

Frisk's heart pounded.

But _____... stepped forward.

Sans stared at them for a heartbeat longer.

Then, he closed his eyes.

"...Welp," he murmured. "Sorry, old lady. This is why I never make promises."

And the world shattered.

Color bled from the Judgment Hall. The soft sunlight vanished. The warmth died.

Frisk's SOUL was ripped from the depths and forced into the open.

A low hum filled the air.

Then-

"It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming..."

Sans' voice cut through the silence like a blade. Then one eye snapped open, flaring gold and blue, his aura bursting to life.

"On days like these... Kids like you..."

The air turned freezing.

"S H O U L D   B E   B U R N I N G   I N   H E L L."

The next instant, a wave of dark blue magic slammed into their SOUL.

Frisk didn't even have time to brace as their body was hurled across the room, bones sprouting from the floor, forming a cage that caught them midair and smashed them back to the ground.

The fight had begun.

And _____... was already on the back foot.

They twisted away from a barrage of bone spears, only to be flung straight into a cluster of floating knives, each one aimed for the gaps in their defenses.

The air crackled.

A Gaster Blaster materialized behind them, too fast.

A blinding beam of blue magic surged forward, engulfing them.

And then—

Their SOUL fractured.

It shattered.

And for one brief second, Frisk almost thought they could hear Sans whisper:

"Sorry, kid."

They lasted a little longer the second time.

Long enough to dodge the first bone volley. Long enough to see Sans' eye flash before he reset their position with a single blink.

The third time, they pushed even further. Dodged. Slashed. Staggered. Survived for more than a minute.

And so it continued.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, _____ forced Frisk's exhausted, battered body forward. Muscles trembling. Limbs sluggish. Dust clinging to every step.

Each time, Sans was already there, waiting. Calm. Sharp-eyed. Smiling that infuriating grin.

His voice was always the same. Casual. Tired. But merciless.

"Heya. You look frustrated about something." His grin widened. "Guess I'm pretty good at my job, huh?"

Their SOUL shattered.

RESET.

The world spun back.

"Hmm... That expression." He tilted his head, eye half-lidded with mock curiosity. "That's the expression of someone who's died twice in a row." A beat. "How about we make it a third?"

Dust. Bones. Blasters. Reset.

"Again, huh?" he said next time, slouching a little more. "Guess we're really doing this."

Their SOUL cracked, screaming as it split.

RESET.

"Hey," he called on the fifth round, wiping imaginary dust off his sleeve. "What comes after 'thrice,' anyway?" He smirked. "Wanna help me find out?"

Frisk, buried somewhere deep within, screamed into the void of their own mind.

Stop. Please stop.

But _____ only laughed gleefully, pushing forward with determination carved from spite. Their sadistic urge was a fire. One that refused to go out.

And Frisk?

They deserved this.

Every strike. Every defeat. Every Reset.

They let it begin.

They let _____ in.

They had asked for peace, but when it hurt too much, they wished for the pain to stop, no matter the cost.

And now, here they were. Repeating the same fate, over and over again.

_____ used Frisk's hands. Spilled dust with their blade.

And Sans punished them.

Relentlessly.

Because someone had to.

This time, _____ actually made it past the first attack.

Barely.

The moment their feet hit the ground again, bones sprang up from below, and blasters roared to life around them. But they moved, just enough. Scraped by with a sliver of HP clinging to the purple bar flashing in the corner of their vision.

Their breathing was ragged. Frisk's body screamed in protest with every motion. But _____ forced it onward, lips curling into a smile that didn't quite reach their eyes.

Across from them, Sans chuckled darkly, arms crossed beneath the flutter of his scarf.

"Heh... Well, would you look at that." His grin never faded, but there was something colder in it now. "You actually made it past the first round."

Their HP ticked down, second by second, poisoned by Karma. The bar glowed purple, judgment manifest in a color that pulsed with consequence.

"Always wondered," Sans muttered, stepping forward slightly, "Why people never use their strongest attack first." He raised a bony finger as if in mock thought. "Maybe it's 'cause they think they'll get another chance..." He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. "But you? you don't get second chances. Not anymore."

The SOUL trembled under his gaze, and Frisk felt it in every corner of their being.

A chill settled in their bones.

A whisper echoed from the void around them:

*You feel your sins crawling on your back.

The screen flickered, the silence thick with judgment. Frisk's breathing was shallow, forced, the dust of fallen monsters clinging to their skin like guilt incarnate.

Across from them, Sans stood unmoving. His eyes half-lidded, voice low, nearly drowned out by the soundless weight of time itself collapsing.

"Our reports showed a massive anomaly in the time-space continuum," Sans said, as if reciting a line etched into the world's bones. "Timelines jumping left and right... Stopping and starting..."

GAME OVER.

The words burned across the void in bold white letters. Again.

"Until suddenly... Everything ends."

*You feel your sins weighing on your neck.

Frisk's SOUL flickered with each pulse of Sans's voice, trembling under the crushing pressure of consequence.

"That's your fault, isn't it?"

GAME OVER.

The Reset button stared them in the face like a cruel joke.

"You can't understand how this feels."

"Knowing that one day, without any warning..." Sans's voice faltered, bitter. "It's all going to be Reset."

GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER.

The words flashed again and again, seared into the screen and into their memory.

"Look," he sighed, rubbing the back of his skull, "I gave up trying to go back a long time ago."

"And getting to the surface?" He shrugged. "Doesn't really appeal anymore."

GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER.

"'Cause even if we do... We'll just end up right back here, won't we?" He looked past them, into something far beyond their reach. "Without any memory of it."

"To be blunt..." he paused, voice thinner now, like he was tired of saying the same words over and over again. "It makes it kinda hard to give it my all."

A quiet beat passed.

"...Or is that just a poor excuse for being lazy...?" He gave a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Hell if i know."

GAME OVER. GAME OVER. GAME OVER.

"All I know is..." Sans stared straight at Frisk now, at the SOUL hovering in the dark. "Seeing what comes next..." He exhaled slowly. "I can't afford not to care anymore."

GAME OVER.

CONTINUE.

CONTINUE.

CONTINUE.

Frisk's hand trembled over the option. They didn't even remember pressing it anymore.

Sans exhaled again, a low, tired sound. His voice carried a tinge of something, exhaustion, maybe. Or regret.

"Ugh... that being said..." he muttered, waving a hand vaguely at them. "You, uh, really like swinging that thing around, huh?"

He tilted his head slightly, the grin still plastered on his skull, but it had lost its sharp edge.

"...listen." His voice softened. "I know you didn't answer me before." He took a step forward, eyes narrowing, as if trying to see past the dust, past the determination, past the rage.

"But... somewhere in there..." A flicker of blue light sparked in his left socket. "I can feel it."

"There's a glimmer of a good person in you. the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing."

The words pierced deeper than any attack.

And for a split second, Frisk felt it too.

"...someone who, in another time, might have even been... A friend?"

The words hung in the air like fragile glass, suspended in the space between heartbreak and hope.

Frisk wanted to scream.

They wanted to cry, to tear the knife from their hands, to rip control away from Chara's bloodstained grip.

"C'mon, buddy."

Their soul trembled.

"Do you remember me?"

They wanted to stop.

"Please, if you're listening..."

Please, Sans...

A flicker of warmth sparked in Frisk's chest, and suddenly—

—memories.

Visions of a life that had never fully come to be, dancing behind their eyes like fragments of a dream.

Laughing with Avallon in the garden under golden light...

Eating cinnamon-butterscotch pie at the kitchen table, Toriel's voice humming gently in the background...

"NO! I WON'T LET YOU!"

Making spaghetti with Papyrus, the kitchen a mess of noodles and sauce...

Training with Undyne, sweat and laughter mixing under the echo of cheering...

"HE CAN'T KEEP DODGING FOREVER!"

Watching anime with Alphys, curled up together in front of the screen...

Planting golden flowers with Asgore in the castle courtyard, the soil soft beneath their hands...

"KEEP ATTACKING!"

A family. A future.

A chance.

"Let's forget all this, okay?" Sans offered gently, one hand open, the other resting at his side. "Just lay down your weapon, and..."

"NO!" _____ screamed from inside. "THIS IS MY GAME!"

"THIS IS MY TURN TO PLAY!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU ENDING MY FUN!"

Frisk's voice, trapped deep, buried beneath layers of dust and pain, cried out silently:

Please, Sans...

Just kill me...

"...well," Sans said, shoulders slumping with something close to regret, "my job'll be easier."

*Sans is sparing you.

Time stopped.

The glowing box around him turned yellow, mercy.

A moment.

A pause.

A choice.

_____ snarled. Without hesitation, they lunged forward, driving the blade down.

*¶|@Y3® attacked.

Sans only sighed and stepped neatly to the side, as if dodging disappointment itself.

"Welp," he muttered, hands back in his pockets, "it was worth a shot. Guess you like doing things the hard way, huh?"

Frisk broke.

Tears spilled down their cheeks, mixing with the dust of the fallen, with the weight of what they had done, what they had allowed.

Their body moved on its own, guided by _____'s fury, but inside—

-—Frisk cried.

CONTINUE

CONTINUE

CONTINUE

CONTINUE

CONTINUE

"Sounds strange, but... before all this, I was secretly hoping we could be friends."

Sans's voice was quiet. Wistful. Almost tired.

"I always thought the anomaly, whoever was behind this, was only doing it 'cause they were unhappy. I figured... once they got what they wanted, they'd stop all this."

But they never did.

GAME OVER

GAME OVER

GAME OVER

GAME OVER

*The REAL battle finally begins.

The air rippled with tension. Bones, knifes, and Blasters readied themselves.

"And maybe... all they really needed was, I dunno. Some good food. Some bad jokes. A few nice friends."

Please... stop it.

Frisk's plea echoed in the dark corners of their soul, barely a whisper beneath the roar of power _____ now wielded like a blade.

GAME OVER

CONTINUE

"But that's ridiculous, right?"
Sans chuckled bitterly, his eye flaring once again. "Yeah... you're the type of person who'll never be satisfied. Never be happy."

And maybe Frisk didn't deserve happiness.

Not anymore.

Not after what they had allowed.

Not after what they had become.

"You'll keep consuming timelines, over and over..." Sans murmured, his grin fading. "...until there's nothing left. but hey, take it from me, kid. Someday... You gotta learn when to
Q U I T."

And maybe that day...

"...is T O D A Y."

"Cause... Y'see..." he continued, adjusting his stance as more bones rose from the ground, "...all this fighting? It's really tiring me out."

He looked different now. Weaker.

His jacket clung to him like a worn shroud. His left eye flickered irregularly, the glowing blue dimmer than before. His breathing, ragged, shallow. Each movement looked just a little slower, like the very fabric of time was beginning to grind down around him.

Frisk could see it.

Felt it.

Sans was weakening.

And _____-

_____ smirked.

They could taste the end. It was close.

He's breaking.

Frisk reached out in desperation, screaming silently from behind the wall of their shared body.

No! Stop! Please, he's not the enemy.

But _____ didn't listen.

_____ never listened.

They readied the knife again.
Bloodlust burning in their eyes.
Determined to finish what they started.

Even as Frisk's soul shattered behind the glass.

After hundreds, no, thousands, of deaths, it finally happened.

_____ managed to catch Sans off guard.

It was only for a split second.
But that was all they needed.

The blade cut deep.

Sans staggered, gasping, one hand clutching at his chest where magic fizzled and cracked like broken glass. His other hand trembled as it reached out, grabbing at the edge of a tattered red scarf and a familiar purple cloak.

He buried his face into them, a broken smile on his lips, barely visible beneath the shadows of his hood.

"well..." he rasped, voice cracking. "i guess... that's that, huh?"

Frisk felt their own tears falling, hot, unstoppable, streaming down their face even as  _____'s twisted grin stretched wider.

"...well... I'm going to Grillby's..."
His voice was barely a whisper now, each word trembling.

"Pap... Papyrus... A-Avallon... do... you... want... anything?"

Then—

He smiled. A tired, knowing smile.

And the light in his eye went out.

His body crumbled into dust.

No.

Frisk's heart shattered.

"No... no! THAT'S ENOUGH!"

The knife slipped from their trembling fingers, clattering to the ground with a hollow clang.

A silence followed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they didn't speak.

Frisk stood there, shoulders shaking, tears dripping onto the ash below.

"You can't make me do this anymore!"
Their voice rang through the void of their mind, defiant and raw.

I won't be your puppet. Not anymore.

Somewhere deep within their soul, something pulsed.

A single word, clear as light.

RESET

The magick of Mount Ebott was ancient, older than memory, older than names, and the mountain itself never stayed on a single continent for long. It wandered through the folds of space and time, always drawn to sorrow and sacrifice.

Rooted in the forgotten rituals of the old Sages, the magic that sustained the Barrier was one of cost. Sacrifice was its cornerstone, and SOULs, the essence of one's being, were the most potent form of magic in existence. Humans, unable to wield SOUL magic without sacrificing something precious in return, came to fear monsters, who could so easily mold and manipulate SOULs as part of their nature.

Over centuries, the magick of Mount Ebott developed a will of its own, gradually, quietly, shaped by the emotions and dreams of the monsters imprisoned beneath its stone. Fueled by the raw DETERMINATION of the human SOULs that fell within, the mountain grew sentient, not in voice, but in intent.

The Barrier allowed only one human SOUL to Fall at a time, forcing the mountain's spirit to weave around that constraint, choosing its moments with purpose and care.

The first to Fall was a child with a SOUL the color of blood, crimson, defiant, and fierce. A lonely, hate-filled child, scarred by the cruelty of their village. Labeled a "Demon Child," they were wronged by humanity and filled with DETERMINATION simply to survive. Drawn to Ebott by its call, they tumbled down, and were taken in by monsters who offered a kindness they'd never known. They grew to love them, truly, deeply. But when death claimed them, it was not peace that followed. Their HATE, buried for so long, grew stronger than their DETERMINATION. They could not move on. And so, the magick of Ebott grieved.

The next to Fall bore the orange SOUL of BRAVERY, a man abandoned by fortune. When boxing was outlawed in England, he was left destitute, starving on the streets, yet still he held his head high. The spirit of the mountain reached out, hoping this human could soothe the angry spirit of the first. For a time, BRAVERY brought laughter and strength to a small circle of monster friends. But years of hunger had left his body fragile. He fell ill and eventually passed. His closest friend carried his SOUL to the King.

After BRAVERY came INTEGRITY, a young ballet dancer from Russia, filled with grace and discipline. She was slain by the former Head of the Royal Guard, a leader struggling under pressure to collect the required SOULs.

The spirit of Ebott then changed its approach. It turned its attention to children, those still able to believe in magic, still open to wonder and compassion.

PERSEVERANCE followed, a curious boy, drawn by the legends of the mountain. He wanted to study it, to understand it. He reached Hotland before the Royal Guard took his SOUL too.

KINDNESS was next, a young girl fleeing war torn homeland, separated from her parents. She stumbled upon Mount Ebott while seeking shelter from soldiers. The mountain knew its moment. The former Queen, aching from the loss of her own children, embraced the gentle girl as one of her own. KINDNESS was bright and sweet, and she got along well with the Royal Scientist's two sons, often babysitting them during his long nights in the lab. She was with them the day the Core malfunctioned. Though she carried the older son to safety, she died shortly afterward from her injuries. The boy, still so young, delivered her SOUL to the King.

Next was PATIENCE, a quiet, dark-skinned child, kind and thoughtful. They never made it past the Ruins. It was Flowey, the corrupted remains of the young prince, who killed them, twisted by loneliness and bitterness.

JUSTICE was the last. A future sheriff from the old American west, summoned by fate and magic twisted by Ebott to fall through the Barrier. Unlike the others, JUSTICE actually deliberately climbing Mt Ebott. They embarking on a quest to investigate the rumors of missing childrens who disappear after they climbed up Mt. Ebott and were never seen again. However they ultimately gives up their SOUL to resolve the conflict between three of Underground residents, the mountain mourned again.

It was tragic. All of it.

The spirit of Ebott, though strengthened by the power of collected SOULs and monster dreams, wept in its own strange way. It hated what had become of the children it had chosen. But that same sorrow, that same DETERMINATION, gave it strength.

And so, the mountain performed a miracle.

From the first child's SOUL, fragmented fragmented as it is, it released a shard. A sliver that still remembered kindness. A spark not yet lost.

A new soul was reborn.

At the same time, another child was born, not from Ebott, but of a different prophecy altogether. A child of war, born into the chaos of hidden magical battles, the one that in near future will be Avallon.

It was chance that bound their destinies. One child who wished to die but found reasons to live. The other, born of a dying wish, aching for love and belonging. Two children from different paths, drawn into the Underground, wielding magick and DETERMINATION alike.

But it was circumstance that brought them together.

The spirit of the mountain could feel it, the first child's HATE was faltering, their grip loosening. The pieces were falling into place. A future was taking shape, not one of despair, but of hope. The monster children played again. The winds through Waterfall sang with possibility.

A new Route was unfolding.

Six SOULs pulsed in the underground, bright and unwavering.

Soon, if everything held, everyone would be free.

Chapter Text

"S-so..." Avallon spoke up suddenly, breaking the quiet hum of conversation and laughter from nearby.

Frisk turned, looking away from where Undyne was enthusiastically teaching Papyrus and Alphys a very dramatic, if chaotic, training routine that involved lots of yelling, jumping, and questionable physics.

Avallon's glowing green eye lights shifted away the moment they made eye contact. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his oversized sweater, kicking at a pebble near his foot.

"...Y-you're going to m-meet the K-King, huh?" he muttered, voice quiet.

"You're almost out."

Frisk bit their lip and gave a small, hesitant nod. The end was near, just one last encounter, one last door.

Avallon didn't look at them. He kept his eyes on the ground, his shoulders tensed like he was bracing for something.

"King Asgore's a r-really good k-king," he continued, voice a little lighter now. "He's r-really nice. He c-comes to town s-sometimes just to t-talk to the k-kids. Brings flowers, tells s-stories, listens t-to everyone. H-Honestly, I don't get w-why everyone's so n-nervous about you meeting h-him."

Frisk's fingers fidgeted with the hem of their worn sweater, twisting the frayed edges with restless hands. They didn't speak, but their eyes were fixed on Avallon.

"He loves kids," Avallon added gently, trying to smile. "That's w-why I think... m-maybe it'll be o-okay."

There was a pause.

"...B-but," he said, finally meeting their eyes again, a quiet determination rising in his voice, "I'm rooting for you."

Frisk's breath caught. Their eyes widened in disbelief.

"I m-mean it," Avallon said, a faint blush creeping onto his skull-like cheeks. "Y-You're... my fr-friend."

The words hit like a wave. Frisk's throat tightened, and their hands trembled.

Without warning, they threw themselves forward, wrapping their arms around Avallon in a fierce, shaking hug. Their body trembled with emotion.

Avallon staggered backward with a yelp, arms flailing for balance. "W-Whoa! Wait! Fr-Frisk?! Are you-?!"

He froze when he felt warm tears soak into his shoulder.

"I-I'm sorry! D-Don't cry!" he panicked, voice rising in pitch. "I didn't m-mean to upset y-you! I didn't- I'm really s-sorry!"

But Frisk just shook their head against him, a breathy, quiet laugh slipping past their lips. They held him tighter, trembling not with sadness but something else. Something warmer.

Relief. Gratitude. Hope.

They opened their mouth, and for the first time since they were six years old, they spoke. The sound was hoarse, soft, and barely above a whisper, but it carried everything they felt.

"Thank you."

Avallon blinked. Then he smiled.

Footsteps echoed solemnly through the golden halls of the Castle.

Then- they stopped.

Two silhouettes stood at a distance, bathed in the warm glow of sunlight streaming through the tall stained glass windows. Neither moved. The golden light cast long shadows, stretching across the pristine floor like history reaching toward its final chapter.

Then, the silence shattered.

A voice, low, resonant, and ancient, cut through the air, seeming to rise from the very bones of the earth.

"S o   y o u   f i n a l l y   m a d e   i t."

It echoed around them like a whisper in a cathedral. Familiar. Heavy.

"T h e   e n d   o f   y o u r   j o u r n e y   i s   a t   h a n d. I n   a   f e w   m o m e n t s,   y o u   w i l l   m e e t   t h e   K i n g."

Frisk's breath caught in their throat. Their hands clenched by their sides.

A shiver ran down their spine.

"T o g e t h e r . . .   y o u   w i l l   d e t e r m i n e   t h e   F a t e   o f   t h i s   w o r l d.   T h a t ' s   t h e n . . .   N o w . . .   y o u   w i l l   b e   j u d g e d.   Y o u   w i l l   b e   j u d g e d   f o r   e v e r y   a c t i o n   y o u   h a v e   t a k e n."

A sudden pressure filled the air, thick and electric with magic. It pressed down on Frisk's chest like an invisible weight. Their SOUL flickered into view, vulnerable, trembling, bright.

". . . Y o u   w i l l   b e   j u d g e d   f o r   e v e r y   E X P   y o u ' v e   e a r n e d."

The words echoed through their very bones.

"W h a t ' s   E X P ?   I t ' s   a n   a c r o n y m .   I t   s t a n d s   f o r   ' E x e c u t i o n P o i n t s ' .   A   w a y   o f   q u a n t i f y i n g   t h e   p a i n   y o u   h a v e   i n f l i c t e d   o n   o t h e r s .   W h e n   y o u   k i l l   s o m e o n e ,   y o u r   E X P   i n c r e a s e s."

Frisk's heart pounded in their chest.

"A n d   w h e n   y o u   h a v e   e n o u g h   E X P ,   y o u r   L O V E   i n c r e a s e s .   L O V E ,   t o o ,   i s   a n a c r o n y m .   I t   s t a n d s   f o r   ' L e v e l   o f   V i o l e n c e ' .   A   m e a s u r e   o f   y o u r   c a p a c i t y   t o   h u r t .   T h e   m o r e   y o u   k i l l ,   t h e   e a s i e r   i t   b e c o m e s   t o   d i s t a n c e   y o u r s e l f .   T h e   m o r e   y o u   d i s t a n c e   y o u r s e l f ,   t h e   l e s s   y o u   h u r t . . .   T h e   m o r e   e a s i l y   y o u   c a n   b r i n g   y o u r s e l f   t o   h u r t   o t h e r s . . ."

Then-

Silence.

The oppressive magic lifted slowly, sound returning to the hall like a held breath finally released.

Frisk opened their eyes and saw him clearly now.

Sans stood at the other end of the hall, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, his eyes closed behind his grin. For a moment, he seemed... solemn. Then he let out a soft sigh.

When his eyelids lifted, the lights in his eyes were no longer cold, they glowed with warmth.

"...but you," he said, his voice back to its usual soft, tired cadence, "you never gained any LOVE."

A small, almost incredulous chuckle escaped him.

"'course, that doesn't mean you're completely innocent or naive," he added, waving a hand vaguely. "just means you kept a certain... tenderness in your heart."

Frisk's throat tightened at those words. The corners of their eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

It was really almost over.

"no matter what struggles or hardships you faced..." Sans continued, stepping forward until he stood just an arm's length away, "...you always tried to do the right thing."

("...I can feel it. there's a glimmer of a good person in you. the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing...")

Frisk's lip quivered.

"you refused to hurt anyone," he said quietly, his eyes kind. "even when you had to run away, you still did it with a smile."

("...someone who, in another time, might've even been... a friend?")

"you never gained LOVE..." he added, reaching forward to gently ruffle their hair, "but you gained love. does that make sense?"

Frisk nodded, a watery smile breaking through the tears, and then they stepped forward, wrapping their arms around the short skeleton in a trembling, heartfelt embrace.

Sans blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh, hugging them back tightly. He lowered his skull, pressing it gently to the top of their head in a quiet, comforting skeleton kiss.

"...maybe not," he murmured into their hair.

Frisk giggled softly.

They stood like that for a moment longer, just two beings who had made it through an impossible journey, sharing the quiet before the storm.

Eventually, Sans pulled back, wiping at the child's cheeks with his sleeve.

"alright, kid..." he said, eyes serious now. "you're about to face the greatest challenge of your entire journey."

Frisk straightened, holding his gaze.

"your actions here... they'll decide the fate of everyone. if you refuse to fight... Asgore will take your SOUL. and he'll use it to destroy humanity."

His voice trembled, just a little. Frisk saw it in his eyes. He didn't want that.

"but if you kill him... and go home..." Sans continued, softer now, "...then all of us will remain trapped underground. forever."

His hands clenched in his hoodie pocket, and he turned his gaze away, the grin on his face dimming slightly.

"so... what will you do?"

The silence that followed felt like it stretched across time itself.

Then—

Frisk stepped forward and gently grasped the sleeve of his jacket, their fingers trembling but resolute. In their eyes burned a familiar fire.

DETERMINATION.

Sans smiled again, this time a little brighter, a little less tired.

"that's right." He nodded. "you've got something special. something called 'DETERMINATION.' and as long as you hold onto that... as long as you keep doing what's in your heart..." He locked eyes with them. "I believe you can do the right thing."

Frisk's eyes shimmered again, but they didn't cry this time. They just smiled.

Sans laughed softly, ruffling their hair one last time.

"we're all counting on you, kid."

He winked.

"good luck."

And with a faint distortion in the air, the skeleton was gone.

Frisk was alone once more.

But somehow, not lonely.

*You are filled with DETERMINATION.

A moment later, a sharp ringtone suddenly cut through the tense silence.

Sans blinked, then quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He glanced at the caller ID and immediately answered.

"sup, Pap?" he said, trying to sound casual, but there was an unmistakable edge in his voice.

"YOU WERE RIGHT! FLOWEY DID SHOW UP AND SPOKE TO ME!" Papyrus's voice came through the receiver in a panic.

Sans straightened slightly. "what did you do?" he asked, tone dropping lower.

"WHAT WE AGREED TO!" Papyrus replied, still frantic. "I TREATED HIM AS A FRIEND, JUST LIKE WE PLANNED!"

There was a pause as Papyrus caught his breath.

"AND THEN, HE TOLD ME TO CALL EVERYONE! HE SAID TO GATHER OUR FRIENDS AND URGE THEM TO STAND WITH FRISK!"

The air seemed to still.

Sans didn't say anything for a few moments, his eye sockets narrowing thoughtfully as the weight of the situation settled around him. His gaze dropped to the ground, sockets shadowed beneath his brow. Then, finally, he let out a quiet breath.

"do it," he said firmly.

There was a stunned silence on the line.

"Are You Sure?" Papyrus asked, his voice suddenly small.

Sans gave the faintest nod, even though his brother couldn't see it.

"yeah. Frisk can handle whatever that weed throws at them," he said, more gently now. "we've done what we could. now it's their turn."

He looked off in the distance, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression.

"we need to let this happen. we need to believe in the kid. just... trust me, Pap."

Another pause, then, finally, Papyrus replied with quiet resolve. "...Alright. I'll Make The Calls."

The line went dead.

Sans lowered the phone slowly, tucking it back into his pocket. His fingers lingered there for a second, as if grounding himself.

For the first time in a long while, he looked... tired. But there was a spark in his eye lights. Not fear. Not doubt.

Hope.

Chapter Text

Avallon blinked several times, his brow furrowing in confusion. He scowled, disoriented. The last thing he remembered was Flowey bursting out of the ground, ensnaring everyone in his thorny vines just as the barrier had weakened. But this… this was not the same place.

Instead of standing near the Barrier, Avallon now found himself on a small, grassy patch surrounded by an endless darkness. A single circle of golden sunlight poured down from the ceiling above, illuminating only a portion of the field like a spotlight on a stage. In the middle of that light stood two familiar figures: Frisk and a young boss monster, dressed in a flowing white robe. Avallon didn’t need to guess who the boy was, there was only one person he could be.

Asriel Dreemurr. The kid who had started it all.

"W-whoa! Wh-What in the w-world is th-this?!" Avallon exclaimed, spinning around on his heel. His cloak fluttered behind him as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

Both Frisk and the young boss monster turned toward him in alarm, their eyes wide in mutual surprise. Clearly, they hadn't expected anyone else to appear here.

"Avallon?!" Frisk gasped, blinking rapidly. "How did you get in here?"

The young skeleton awkwardly stuffed his hands into the inner part of his cloak and slowly walked over, boots crunching lightly on the grass. He looked just as confused as they were, if not more, but his expression remained calm.

"I… dunno," he admitted with a shrug, glancing around again. "L-last thing I knew, Flowey w-was doing his wh-whole evil-plant-monologue thing a-and wrapping u-us all up. T-then I ended u-up here."

He pointed toward Asriel. "P-pretty sure w-we were trapped i-inside him, r-right? Guess s-some mystical heart-connection-soul-crisis k-kind of thing p-pulled me into this m-memory realm or w-whatever it is."

Frisk and Asriel exchanged uncertain glances.

"B-but I think I kn-know why I’m here," Avallon added, his voice growing more serious. His glowing green eye lights locked onto Asriel.

"M-Maybe it was a cr-cry for help, fr-from one of you. O-Or both."

Frisk’s shoulders slumped slightly, as if some burden they hadn’t realized they were carrying was suddenly made visible. Their voice came out barely above a whisper.

"C-Can you help?" they asked, hope flickering in their tone.

Avallon gave another shrug, though there was a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I might," he replied. Then he looked at Asriel with narrowed sockets. "Th-that depends. D-Do you still love y-your parents?"

The goat boy flinched as if struck. "O-Of course I love my parents!" he said, bewildered and a little hurt by the question.

Avallon’s grin widened, with something warm. His eye lights sparkled with green magic, brighter than before.

"Good answer."

He raised a phalange to his ribs and pressed it against the center of his ribcage. A faint hum filled the air. Frisk watched, eyes widening, as a white monster SOUL emerged from Avallon's chest. But it wasn’t just white.

It shimmered with a radiant green accent, pulsing with Determination. But what truly caught their attention was the soft pink aura glowing faintly around the SOUL, bathing the area in a gentle light.

The pink shimmer wasn’t something Avallon had ever shown before.

Frisk took a slow step forward, entranced. "...What kind of SOUL is that?"

Avallon looked down at it for a moment, then met their gaze again.

"One that's been loved enough to carry a little bit of everything."

He turned to Asriel and held the SOUL out toward him.

"Now, then," he said, voice quiet but steady, "are you ready to stop running?"

"So that's what I felt…" Asriel murmured, his voice soft with realization. His jade eyes, once dull with guilt and sorrow, now shimmered with something different, wonder. "You're a Shifter, aren't you? I didn’t think any of you still existed."

Avallon let out a low chuckle, the corners of his mouth curling up in an amused smirk. "And yet, here I am," he said simply, his voice warm with irony.

"But…" he added after a beat, his tone growing quiet, "it’s not my SOUL that’s going to help you."

Frisk and Asriel both watched, their expressions filled with curiosity and a trace of concern, as the young skeleton gently held his SOUL in his hands. It hovered just above his palm, glowing with that distinctive green-and-pink radiance. His eye lights dimmed slightly as a more solemn look crossed his face.

"I’m sorry, Mama," Avallon whispered, so quietly it was almost a prayer.

"Thank you… for all those years. For the warmth, the love, the protection. But someone else needs you more now. It’s time… to let go."

The words hung heavy in the air.

To Frisk and Asriel’s shock, Avallon’s SOUL flickered, then pulsed. A second SOUL slowly emerged from it, like a gently blooming flower breaking through the surface. It floated away from his chest, glowing with a soft, ethereal pink light. It was human, fragile and full of emotion, yet powerful in its own right.

It drifted toward the center of the shadowed space, casting a rosy glow that pushed back the surrounding darkness. The warmth it radiated wrapped around them like a comforting embrace, making it hard to breathe, but in the best way. It was love. It was grief. It was letting go.

Then, a voice, hoarse, confused, and unsteady.

"...What is this?"

Frisk gasped and spun around, heart pounding. There, just behind her, stood a familiar figure. Chara.

Their red eyes were wide with disbelief as they stared down at their hands, as if trying to confirm they still existed. Slowly, their gaze lifted to meet Frisk’s, then Asriel’s, before finally settling on Avallon.

"H-How…" they breathed, barely above a whisper.

Avallon didn’t smile, but his expression was gentle, patient. He looked at Chara with something between understanding and resolve.

"Looks like you love them very much too," he said softly.

The pink SOUL pulsed once more, brighter than before, resonating with the quiet truth in Avallon’s words. The light it cast was no longer gentle, it was radiant, enveloping all of them in its brilliance.

The four stood still, Frisk, Asriel, Chara, and Avallon, as the brightness surrounded them, washing away the darkness, the weight, the grief, the doubt.

And then, nothing.

“While I hate to kill the mood, unfortunately… it was boned to happen.”

When Avallon next opened his eyes, the world had changed again.

He was back in the throne room of the castle, the grand hall still littered with remnants of the chaos Flowey had caused. The golden petals and cracked stones told stories of a battle hard-fought.

He blinked groggily, realizing he was slumped sideways, his head resting against something warm and familiar. Papyrus’s hip. The taller skeleton held him protectively, one hand gently patting his skull like a worried parent.

"AVALLON?!" Papyrus shouted, voice tinged with panic. "ARE YOU OKAY?! WAKE UP, PLEASE!"

Nearby, Sans was crouched low, shaking his brother awake with unusual urgency. His grin was gone, and though his expression remained mostly unreadable, his eyes glowed faintly with blue panic.

Avallon blinked again, trying to sit up.

"...You g-guys're loud," he muttered weakly.

Papyrus gasped with joy. "HE’S AWAKE! HE’S OKAY! I MEAN, I KNEW HE’D BE OKAY, BUT I WAS ALSO PREPARED TO PANIC JUST IN CASE!!"

Sans exhaled slowly, and for just a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“Avallon, you okay, kiddo?” Sans asked, worry lacing his usually laid-back tone as he crouched beside the smaller skeleton.

Avallon let out a breathy chuckle and rubbed the side of his skull, wincing slightly.

“P-Peachy,” he replied. “A bit r-rattled… but o-other than th-that, I’m fine.”

“WHAT HAPPENED, LITTLE BROTHER?” Papyrus asked, crouching down next to them, his voice loud but filled with concern.

Before Avallon could respond, a soft groan echoed from across the throne room, drawing everyone’s attention. He turned quickly toward the sound, eye sockets widening in disbelief as he took in the sight.

"What the h-hell…?" he muttered, scrambling unsteadily to his feet.

Across the room, lying in a small heap, were three familiar figures. Frisk was sprawled on the ground, slowly blinking as they came to. Curled protectively against their side was Asriel, who groaned again, slowly sitting up with a dazed look in his jade green eyes.

But it was the third figure that made Avallon freeze.

It wasn’t Chara in the form he expected, the human child with red eyes and a green sweater. No, this figure was something entirely different. Another goat-like monster child, fluffy like Asriel, but instead of pearly white, they had chestnut colored fur. Their green shirt bore only a single yellow stripe across the chest, unlike Asriel’s two. And yet… there was something unmistakably familiar in their posture, in the way they blinked and looked around with visible confusion.

Asriel gasped, his eyes now fully focused on the new arrival. “Ch-Chara?!”

The spotted monster’s bright red eyes flew open, and they turned toward Asriel, their expression shifting from confusion to astonishment. For a few heartbeats, they looked down at their paws in disbelief, touching their own chest as if trying to process what had happened. Then, without hesitation, they lunged forward and threw their arms around Asriel, clutching him tightly.

“Azzy…” the new monster whispered, voice trembling with emotion. “It’s really you…”

Asriel didn’t hesitate to hug them back, tears already spilling from his eyes.

From behind the children, Asgore stepped forward, his eyes wide and glistening. “Asriel… Chara…” he breathed, voice cracking.

Toriel let out a choked sob and dropped to her knees, her arms wrapping around all three children without a second thought. “My babies… oh, my babies!” she cried, clutching them close as tears flowed freely down her face.

Asgore quickly knelt beside her, embracing the reunited children with trembling arms.

Frisk blinked up at them in surprise, dazed by the overwhelming wave of emotion, but slowly, they began to smile, their small arms returning the embrace as warmth flooded the room. There were no words needed. Just the sound of sobbing, laughter, and the quiet comfort of family restored.

Around them, the bystanders watched in silence, smiles tugging at their lips and tears shining in their eyes. Even Sans found himself swallowing thickly, blinking a few extra times. Papyrus sniffled loudly, his hands clutched over his chest like he couldn’t contain the joy.

“I-I don’t understand…” Toriel said finally, her voice soft and trembling with disbelief. “How… how is this possible?”

Still crying, the spotted monster, Chara, now unmistakably a monster child, leaned into Toriel’s shoulder.

“A-Avallon… he b-brought us back, Mom,” Chara stammered between sobs. “He… he gave up something so I could come back…”

There was a long pause as every eye in the room turned toward Avallon.

The young skeleton shifted nervously under the weight of their gazes, a light green blush creeping up the sides of his face. He glanced down at his feet, trying to hide the way his fingers fidgeted at his sides.

Sans and Papyrus both stepped closer and rested a hand on each of his shoulders. Their grips were gentle, steadying. Encouraging.

“you did good, kiddo,” Sans murmured.

“VERY GOOD,” Papyrus added, eyes sparkling with pride. “YOU’RE A HERO!”

Avallon gave a sheepish smile, still looking flustered.

“I-it’s the least I could do,” he said quietly. “You all deserve to b-be happy… A-after everything you’ve been through.”

He scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Though, uh… I-I honestly have no idea what exactly happened with C-Chara. That part kinda just… h-happened.”

“Well,” Chara said, finally pulling away from the hug, wiping at their eyes with the sleeve of their shirt, “I don’t really understand either. But… it feels right. Like I was supposed to come back this way.”

They looked down at their paws again, then smiled softly. “I’m not human anymore, but… I think I’m more than okay with that.”

“You’re more than okay,” Asriel said with a grin, bumping his forehead lightly against theirs.

“Perhaps I Could Shed Some Light On That,” a deep, calm voice spoke from behind.

All heads turned sharply toward the tall skeleton standing at the edge of the Barrier. His presence seemed to command silence, and for a moment, no one dared to speak.

Next to Avallon, Sans’s eye sockets widened in disbelief, the blue glow in his left eye flickering uncertainly. Papyrus gasped loudly, nearly toppling over in shock.

“D-Dadster?” Sans asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Hello, Sans. Papyrus,” the mysterious skeleton greeted gently, his tone full of warmth and familiarity. Then his gaze shifted to Avallon.

“I Believe… My Return Was An Unintended Side Effect Of Your Actions, Young One. The Same Holds True For Why Chara Has Taken On A New Form.”

Avallon blinked, still processing the sudden arrival of this imposing yet strangely familiar comforting figure. “I-I'm glad that really worked...” he murmur to himself, clearly relieved that Reaper holding up his part of the deal.

The man, clearly Dr. Gaster, folded his gloved hands behind his back and began to explain in his deep, patient voice. “Lily Potter’s Love Did Not Directly Resurrect Anyone. Rather, Her Magic Gave Those Who Still Had Their SOULs Lingering In The Land Of Living To Return. A Final Act Of Selfless Love, Spread Among The Grieving Hearts Of Those Left Behind. You’ll Soon Find That Many Monsters Have Returned, Not Just Us.”

Alphys, still trembling slightly and half-hiding behind Undyne, stepped forward and stammered, “B-but… Dr. G-Gaster… th-that still doesn’t explain w-why Ch-Chara is a m-monster now…”

Gaster nodded. “A Fair Question, Doctor. The Answer Lies In The Nature Of The Wish Itself. The King And Queen Of The Underground Considered Chara Their Child In Every Way That Mattered. Lily’s Magic Responded To That Deep, Unconditional Love… And Built Chara A New Body Using Your Genetics, Your Majesties. In Essence, Chara Is Now Your Child By Blood.”

There was a stunned silence.

Chara blinked slowly, their red eyes glistening with tears as the realization sank in. Then, they gave a watery, incredulous laugh and threw their arms around Asriel again, nearly knocking him over in joy.

“This is… this is the happiest day of my life!” Chara sobbed, clutching Asriel tightly. The young prince hugged back just as fiercely, smiling through tears.

Toriel gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as more tears rolled down her cheeks. Asgore, beside her, wiped at his eyes with a trembling hand. “Our child… truly ours again…”

Frisk stood nearby, smiling softly, their own eyes glassy with unshed tears. Avallon watched it all with a soft expression, blinking back a few tears of his own. He didn’t regret giving up the SOUL remnant, not for a second.

Then, Gaster’s voice called out again, soft but deliberate. “Avallon.”

The young skeleton startled and looked up. Gaster was staring at him now with a gaze that held centuries of knowledge and a surprising amount of gentle affection.

“We May Have Only Just Officially Met, But From The Void, I Could See All Timelines. I Watched Every Step You Took. And I Saw… How Deeply My Sons Care For You. To Them, You Are Family. A Little Brother In Every Sense That Matters.”

Avallon’s breath caught in his throat.

Gaster continued, his voice thick with emotion now. “I Do Not Wish To Replace Anyone Important To You, But… If You Would Allow It, I Would Be Honored To Call You My Son. I Hope… One Day, You Might Think Of Me As Your Father.”

Avallon stared at him, eyes wide, soul aching in the best way possible. No one had ever said that to him before. No one had ever wanted to be his parent. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling when he spoke.

“R-really?” he asked, small and vulnerable, hope shining in his eyes.

Gaster didn’t hesitate. “Of Course.”

A soft, choked laugh escaped Avallon as tears spilled down his cheekbones. He rubbed at his eye sockets and nodded.

“I’d love that,” he whispered.

Papyrus gently wrapped one long arm around Avallon’s shoulders, while Sans ruffled his head with a soft smile, both brothers pulling him into a tight familial hug. Gaster stepped closer and laid a skeletal hand on Avallon’s other shoulder, completing the circle of warmth.

“How adorable,” hissed a high-pitched, venom-laced voice.

Everyone’s heads snapped toward the source.

“Let’s all be happy and forget about the damn flower!” Flowey shrieked, his face twisted into a monstrous grin. “I’LL KILL YOU ALL!”

The moment those words left his petals, Undyne’s spear materialized with a crackle of energy, her stance shifting into a battle-ready pose. Sans’s left eye flared to life with an intense blue glow, and several floating knifes shimmered into view beside him, levitating threateningly.

But before anyone could act, before the first move could be made, Frisk darted forward.

They stepped directly in front of Flowey, arms spread wide in a protective stance.

The entire group froze.

Even Flowey blinked, startled.

“Frisk?!” Toriel gasped, her voice tight with alarm.

“No!” Alphys cried, clinging to Undyne’s sleeve.

Sans’s glow faded instantly, and the knife dropped with a soft clink onto the ground. He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head.

“you really weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to save everyone, huh, kid?” he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and awe.

Frisk didn’t answer at first, keeping their eyes locked on Flowey. Though their arms trembled slightly, their gaze was steady.
*You said no one gets left behind. Not even him.

Avallon stepped forward, arms folded and head tilted in that casual, almost lazy way he had perfected. “I-I think Fl-Flowey’s just g-grumpy,” he remarked dryly. “P-probably just n-needs a nap a-and some fresh air. S-sunlight cures e-everything, right?”

That comment earned a laugh from Chara, Asriel, and Frisk, light and genuine despite the tension. Even Toriel gave a soft, amused sigh, and Papyrus snorted.

Flowey, on the other hand, was not amused. “Oh shut up! You brainless idiots! Laugh all you want, I’ll never change!” he snarled, flailing his tiny leaves.

*You tell Flowey he have already changed,
Frisk exclaimed softly, crouching so they were at eye level with the furious flower.
*You tell Flowey you wouldn’t still be here if he hadn’t.

“Sentimental nonsense!” Flowey hissed. “I hate you!”

*You tell Flowey he allowed to hate you,
Frisk said gently.
*You tell Flowey you’ll still be here when he's ready.

Flowey screamed in frustration.

Sans, still grinning, snapped his fingers, and with a burst of blue magic, a large flowerpot popped into existence in his hand. He walked over and held it out to Frisk with a wink. “figure you might wanna put your angry little buttercup somewhere safe.”

Frisk took the pot with a wide, grateful smile.

Flowey recoiled at the sight of it. “If you think I’m going to willingly crawl into that thing, you’ve got another thing coming, you—!”

“who said anything about willingly?” Sans interrupted, voice suddenly colder.

His grin sharpened as his eye glowed once more.

With a flick of his finger, gravity reversed under Flowey’s roots, hoisting him upside down into the air. The flower yelped in surprise, flailing uselessly as he was unceremoniously dropped into the pot.

“there,” Sans said, dusting his hands off. “nice and cozy.”

Flowey popped halfway out of the soil, glaring daggers at everyone. “I will escape! And when I do, you’ll all be sorry!”

“Sure, sure,” Sans replied, rolling his eyes. “We’ll make sure to water you with love and kindness till then.”

The group laughed again, and though Flowey grumbled and swore under his breath, he didn’t try to escape the pot. Not yet.

Frisk placed the flowerpot carefully on the ground, tucking a small piece of moss beside it like a blanket.
*You tell Flowey that he's not alone anymore, that he never were.

As they stood, Chara came up beside Frisk and elbowed them lightly. “You’re really going for the ‘protagonist power of friendship’ thing, huh?” they teased, but the fondness in their voice betrayed how much they appreciated it.

Frisk just smiled and reached for their hand.

Chapter Text

Frisk closed their eyes and tilted their head toward the early morning sunlight, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air. They hadn't realized how much they had missed the sun until now, the way it brushed warmth across their tanned skin, the way it lit the world in gold. The trees surrounding Mount Ebott swayed as a cool breeze rustled through their leaves, carrying the crisp scent of fresh rain and lingering frost.

Ah.

Frisk hadn't realized how much they had missed the sight, either.

Green stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with craggy stones and softened by a faint mist that curled over the land.

The monsters stood beside them, some for the very first time, their gazes locked on the horizon where shafts of sunlight pierced the clouds. Awe and silence held them all still.

"Oh my," Toriel breathed. Her paw held tightly to Asriel and Chara's paws as though afraid they would vanish, her other paw curled protectively around one of Frisk's smaller ones. Her eyes shone as she took in the world she had not walked for centuries.

"Isn't it beautiful, everyone?" Asgore's deep voice rumbled, lighter than it had sounded in years. Tears shimmered in his red eyes as sunlight crowned his horns.

"Wow..." Alphys whispered, standing a little taller beside Undyne. "It's even b-better than on TV. W-way better! Better than I ever imagined!"

Undyne's jaw dropped. "Frisk... you LIVE with this?!"

Frisk nodded, lips curving into a small smile. Born and raised.

"The sunlight is so nice... and the air is so fresh!" Undyne tilted her head back, letting the wind tug through her scarlet hair. She grinned like a warrior breathing for the first time. "I really feel alive!"

"HEY, SANS, WHAT'S THAT GIANT BALL?!"

Avallon giggled, his tiny skeletal hands intertwined with both of his brothers'.

Sans grinned back, shrugging. "we call that 'the sun,' my friend."

Papyrus gasped as though he had been struck by divine revelation. "THAT'S THE SUN!? WOWIE!!!" He bounced on the balls of his feet like an excitable toddler, scarf flapping with every movement. "I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M FINALLY MEETING THE SUN!!!"

"It Feels So Nice... After Such A Long Time..." Gaster murmured. His deep voice carried the weight of centuries, and for just a moment, his purple eye lights caught the golden glow of the dawn, turning them into something nearly radiant.

"I could stand here and watch this for hours," Asgore agreed softly.

Toriel sighed, smiling through damp eyes. "Yes, it is beautiful, is it not? But... we should think about what comes next." She looked at her former husband with quiet insistence.

Asgore chuckled sheepishly, but then straightened, clearing his throat. "Everyone... this is the beginning of a bright new future. An era of peace between humans and monsters." His gaze settled on Frisk, soft and warm. He crouched down in front of them, releasing Asriel and Chara's hands so he could meet Frisk's eyes directly.

"Frisk," he said gently. "I have something to ask of you."

Frisk turned from the sweeping greenery to the king, a small, certain smile rising to their face.

"Will you act as our ambassador to humans?"

For a heartbeat, the world held still. Then Frisk nodded, smile widening into a beam.

"YEAH! FRISK WILL BE THE BEST AMBASSADOR! AND I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL BE THE BEST MASCOT!" Papyrus struck a pose so dramatic it nearly toppled him, fists punching skyward. "I'LL GO MAKE A GOOD FIRST IMPRESSION RIGHT NOW!"

With that, he dashed down the path in a storm of limbs and scarf, cackling his signature "NYEH HEH HEH HEH!"

Sans snorted into his sleeve, Gaster chuckled low and fond, and Avallon groaned softly.

"W-we should p-probably go g-get him."

"welp," Sans said, taking a step after his brother. "someone's gotta keep him from getting into trouble."

"Meet u-us at t-the bottom o-of the m-mountain," Avallon called over his shoulder as he followed.

Undyne squinted after the dust cloud that was Papyrus. "...Man. Do I have to do EVERYTHING? PAPYRUS, WAIT UP!" She bolted after him.

"Undyne, w-wait for me!!" Alphys squeaked, chasing her down the slope.

Frisk giggled.

"Whoops," Asgore muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He glanced between his ex-wife and the stragglers. "Uh... should I do something?"

Toriel's frown deepened into that familiar, unimpressed look.

Asriel and Chara exchanged mischievous grins.

"Well, uh, gotta go!" Asgore blurted, cape flapping as he hustled after the others.

"Mom?" Chara asked, tugging at Toriel's sleeve. "Should we follow? I know you wanted to talk to Frisk."

Toriel bent and kissed their forehead gently. "Go, my child. Make sure your father does not trip on that ridiculous cape of his."

"Got it!" Asriel grabbed Chara's wrist and tugged them along, flashing Frisk a wink. "See you later!"

Toriel stood and watched them leave with a fond smile. Around them, the sunlight stretched wider, spilling warmth across the snow-dusted mountain top. She turned back to Frisk, her expression soft.

"It seems everyone is quite eager to set off," she said warmly.

Frisk laughed lightly, then stilled when Toriel's gaze softened further.

"Frisk," she asked quietly, "you came from this world, yes? So... you must have a place to return to, do you not?"

Frisk bit their lip, shifting their weight. The truth burned bitterly inside: no, they didn't. Their parents' old apartment was long gone, sold to another family years ago. Everything they had once known, once owned, had slipped away long before they fell into the Underground.

These monsters were the closest thing they had to family. The only family.

Toriel seemed to read the silence in their expression. Her violet eyes softened even more, a hand settling gently on their shoulder.

"And what will you do now, my child?"

Frisk lifted their head, eyes shining with familiar, unshakable DETERMINATION.

"...I want to stay with you."

The clearing still shimmered faintly with the last traces of magic as the monsters emerged into the open air. The sun filtered through the trees, casting long golden beams across moss and stone, and for the first time in centuries the Underground's people stood free beneath the sky.

A strawberry-blonde haired human was already waiting. Her coat bore the insignia of an unfamiliar order, her grey eyes wide as she took in the strange gathering. Her voice carried a mix of awe and careful control.

"You must be monsters. From the legends."

"Indeed," Asgore rumbled, stepping forward with the dignity of a monarch. His broad frame cast a shadow over the grass, but his tone was warm. Asriel, Chara, Toriel, and Frisk flanked him, their expressions wary but curious. "I am King Asgore."

The woman turned slowly to face him, then inclined her head in a small, respectful bow. "It is an honor, Your Highness. Allow me to introduce myself: Agent Ourocrest, of the Magical Congress of the United States of America."

Asgore's brows lifted. His frown softened, his tone probing but polite. "Thank you... And you are a sage?"

"That is correct," Ourocrest confirmed, her hand briefly brushing through her strawberry blonde locks. "Though these days we call ourselves Wizards and Witches. The term sage has been out of use for... quite some time."

"Oh?" Asgore rumbled, curiosity glinting in his eyes.

She sighed lightly, as though this was not the first time she had needed to bridge the gap between past and present. "I take it the Barrier has been broken?"

"Yes." His voice was solemn.

The agent's posture shifted into business. She reached into her coat, producing a polished badge and holding it up for all to see. "I am here on official duty. My superiors have an offer for you and your people. But first, word of warning. You may want to keep your people from wandering beyond the mountain or forest for now. I'm not saying they can't leave, only that... being seen too soon could complicate matters."

Asgore nodded, grave. "I understand. I will make the announcement." He glanced back at the children. "Chara, Asriel, Frisk, remain here with your mother." With that, he turned back toward the cavern entrance.

"I'll go with him and make sure the announcement reaches the television stations!" Mettaton proclaimed, striking a glamorous pose before whirling away, wheels squeaking against the grass.

That left Toriel facing Ourocrest directly, her violet eyes narrowing with maternal suspicion. "Precisely what sort of offer is your government proposing?"

Agent Ourocrest met her gaze calmly. "At this stage, I cannot give specifics. The MACUSA traditionally provides newly discovered magical peoples with reservations, places to live in peace away from interference. But," she added with a note of candor, "recent events have raised doubts about whether the secrecy of magic can continue much longer. Your arrival may... shift the balance."

Moments later, Asgore returned, Mettaton hovering grandly behind him. "I have spoken to my people," Asgore said, his deep voice carrying faint relief. "For now, they are content simply to see the sun again." He turned to Ourocrest. "Where may we discuss what your Congress proposes?"

"Here," she said, producing a small, rune-carved medallion. "I have a portkey. It will take us directly to a secure conference hall at MACUSA headquarters. You will be given refreshments, and the senior Aurors will ask questions to better understand your people. Depending on your answers, the Congress may consider allowing you to live openly, not hidden."

She reached into her case, producing a set of metallic badges, each etched with MACUSA's seal. "Clip these onto your clothing. They serve as temporary ambassador passes."

Her eyes flicked to Mettaton. "I believe I have a magnetic clasp for-"

"The name's Mettaton, darling," the robot cut in with a flourish, his lights flashing.

"...Yes. This one will suit you just fine."

She passed the badges around with precise care. "Once everyone is secure, I'll activate the portkey. These are steadier than the usual kind, but I recommend you remain still until you feel the ground beneath you again."

When all were ready, she spoke clearly: "Freedom."

The world spun. The forest, the mountain, the sunlight, all tore away in a whirl of color and sound until the group landed in a vast conference chamber lined with polished wood and enchanted lanterns. A long table dominated the space, already laid out with trays of food and steaming carafes of drink.

"If the refreshments are unsuitable, simply ask an attendant," Ourocrest explained as attendants entered with clipboards in hand. "You will be questioned one by one by some of our personel. You are not obligated to answer every question. If you decline, however, we ask for an explanation so our records may respect your culture and beliefs. This is a mutual exchange of knowledge. Understanding is our priority."

The monsters gathered close at the table. Papyrus sat at near the head of the table, Avallon perched carefully between Sans and Gaster. Sans slouched comfortably, while Gaster's sockets scanned every detail with a scientist's sharp caution.

Across from them, the attendants took seats, pens poised. Trays of food were pushed gently forward, soups, fruits, warm bread, and spiced teas.

As the questions began, elsewhere in MACUSA headquarters a team of Unspeakables gathered around enchanted instruments. Threads of residual magic were pulled from crystal vials, patterns mapped across floating charts. Within the hour, they would confirm what they already suspected:

Time had moved differently within Mount Ebott. The barrier had folded hours into days, years into decades. Short-lived wormholes had linked the mountain briefly to far corners of the world, flickering open and shut before dissolving.

An anomaly unlike anything recorded before.

Avallon sat curled up in the cold metal chair, his knees pulled tightly to his chest, chin resting atop them. He glared across the dull grey table at the young man seated opposite him, clearly a Sage, or Wizard they called themselve nowadays, judging by the twitchy fingers and the nervous flicks of his wand. The man's robes were neatly pressed, his ID pinned to his collar, but no amount of polish could hide how uncomfortable he looked. Good, Avallon thought vindictivelly. Because he was uncomfortable too.

He wanted to say it out loud: that he never wanted to leave the Underground, that he didn't trust humans, especially ones who could wave a stick and turn you into a toad. But he doubted that honesty would help. Not here.

Sure, he was technically stronger than them, especially when he channeled magic through his Crysalith. But numbers mattered. There were far more wizards than there were monsters, and Avallon knew too well how numbers could crush hope. So here he sat, stiff and anxious in a sterile interrogation room, feeling less like a guest and more like a prisoner.

A knock echoed on the door. It creaked open, and both Avallon and the young wizard turned their heads, one with weary irritation, the other with visible relief.

A woman stepped in briskly, shutting the door with a firm click. She exuded authority. Her grey skirt suit was immaculately tailored, her brown hair twisted into a tight, unforgiving bun. Half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of her slightly crooked nose, and her scarlet lips were set in a thin, unreadable line. Her blue-gray eyes swept over Avallon, calculating and unblinking.

She took the seat next to the wizard without a word of greeting and raised a hand. A stack of files floated in behind her, snapping crisply into her grasp.

"Let us begin," she said in a clipped tone, opening the first folder.

"Avallon Gaster. Skeleton monster. Male..." the witch read aloud from the parchment file in her hands, her voice clipped and clinical. Her eyes flicked up to meet his with a flat professionalism that made his bones itch.

"How old are you?"

Her wand tapped the parchment, and the paper shifted with a whisper of magic.

Avallon's silence stretched long enough that the witch's brow arched in mild annoyance.

With a flick of her wand, a long, sleek quill with shimmering black feathers dipped itself into a floating inkpot and hovered, poised to write. The air carried the faint scent of iron ink and bureaucracy.

Avallon slowly raised his gaze from the stack of parchments to the witch's eyes, locking onto her without flinching.

Then he tilted his head, gave a pointed smile, and drawled, "S-still considered a-a m-minor. Which m-means i-it's actually illegal t-to interrogate m-me without o-one of my g-guardians p-present."

The words dripped with that carefully restrained sarcasm he'd learned from Sans, but his tone held more bite. Less lazy. Sharper.

The quill paused briefly mid-air, as if stunned.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. "B-but I guess y-you guys d-don't c-care much a-about that k-kind of t-thing... d-do you?"

There it was, that defiance.

Not loud or reckless. Just solid. Cold. Assertive enough to make the temperature in the room feel suddenly a little less stable.

The witch blinked, her composure wobbling by a hair. The wizard nearby shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with his colleague.

Avallon didn't let up. He folded his arms, the quiet rattle of bones deliberate. "S-so, unless y-you're t-trying to m-make this e-even more i-illegal, I s-suggest y-you get o-one of t-them. I've g-got t-two guardians, y-you kn-now. O-one is p-probably n-napping, a-and the other c-could write a q-quantum t-thesis on your e-entire g-goverment s-system before b-breakfast. W-want me to call them?"

His SOUL flickered with flickers of buried anger, quiet, but immense, and beneath it all was something far more dangerous than violence: control.

The feathered quill didn't move. The witch inhaled through her nose, held it, and exhaled.

"...I see," she said coolly. "We'll pause the interview until one of your guardians arrives."

Avallon leaned back in the chair again, relaxed now, his arms still folded. "Smart choice."

Finally, the woman closed the file. "The Congress is currently in session, reviewing negotiations. A number of wizarding governments, are requesting to observe or assist. There are concerns. You and your people have powerful magic, and the last thing any of us need is another Grindelwald, or worse."

What's a Grindelwald? Avallon's fingers twitched at that information. "W-we don't w-want a w-war."

"Good," she replied, standing up. "Then help us prevent one."

"If you remember anything... or if you experience any magical anomalies, contact me immediately. The magical equilibrium is fragile. Even a ripple could shift the tides."

He took the card, glancing at it briefly. Her name was Director Mirabel Hart, and under it: Head of Interdimensional Affairs, MACUSA.

Avallon was immediately led into a wide, brightly lit chamber where the rest of his family was waiting. He barely had time to register the warm, marble floors or the magical wall that shimmered with protective wards before a blur of orange scarf and bones launched at him.

"AVALLON! WE WERE GETTING WORRIED ABOUT YOU!" Papyrus exclaimed, scooping Avallon up into a rib-cracking hug.

Avallon, who was used to this by now, let himself go limp in Papyrus's arms, burying his face into the curve of his brother's shoulder. "I-I'm fine, Papyrus," he murmured. "J-just... tired."

"YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE HAD TO FACE THOSE GRUMPY HUMANS ALONE!" Papyrus declared, glaring around the room as if daring someone to say otherwise. "THEY SHOULD KNOW YOU ARE A KIND, SWEET, SOMETIMES SASSY, BUT MOSTLY KIND CHILD!"

Sans snorted beside them. "they probably didn't expect a tiny skeleton to stare them down like a boss, huh, kiddo?"

Avallon cracked a small smile. "O-one of them s-started sweating when I asked i-if the i-interrogation was legal," he muttered. "Not s-sorry."

Frisk stood nearby, their hand resting comfortingly on Toriel's sleeve. Asriel was pacing in the corner and immediately ran over to Avallon as soon as Papyrus put him down.

"You did great," Asriel whispered, clearly proud. "They asked me a bunch of weird stuff too. I think they're still scared of Flowey."

"As they should be," Flowey muttered from his pot, nestled inside a magically-shielded planter. "I'm (mostly) reformed but not declawed."

"you okay, kiddo?" Sans's voice was gentler, but no less full of concern. He stepped up beside them, glowing blue eye lights watching Avallon carefully. His usual slouch was stiffer than normal, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket.

Avallon nodded. "I-I didn't t-tell them anything b-bad, promise."

"They had no right to grill you like that," growled Undyne from the corner, where she was pacing back and forth like a caged lion. "You're a kid! And you've done more for peace than half those wand-wavers probably ever will."

Alphys clutched her laptop nervously against her chest, whispering something about "protocol" and "diplomatic complications," but fell silent when Gaster stepped forward. The former royal scientist-turned-Void-dweller-now-somehow-revived father laid a hand gently on Avallon's shoulder. The gesture was subtle but grounding, and Avallon leaned into it just a bit more than he meant to.

Toriel was there too, her paws folded calmly in front of her, but her red eyes were soft with maternal worry. Asgore stood beside her, massive arms crossed, his brows knitted in silent judgment of the entire situation.

"I Believe We Should Return To The Main Chamber," Gaster said calmly. "The Agent Said They'd Have Answers For Us Soon... Or At Least A Decision."

"D-decision?" Avallon frowned.

"They're debating whether to classify us as magical creatures or sentient magical beings," Toriel explained. "It will determine whether we are protected under international wizarding law... or treated as dangerous anomalies."

"T-they're not s-seriously—?!" Avallon began, but Gaster gently squeezed his shoulder again.

"We Are All Tired," he said softly. "And Scared. But For Now, We Need To Wait."

As they moved together toward the central meeting room, Avallon stuck close to his family. He glanced around at the mismatched group of monsters, their quiet conversations, their anxious glances.

From across the room, Asgore stood tall in discussion with two MACUSA officials, one of them are Agent Ourocrest. Though his posture was firm, there was weariness in his eyes. He glanced over when Avallon re-entered and gave a nod of silent approval before continuing his conversation.

Later that evening, MACUSA convened a closed-door meeting with the leaders of the monsterkind community: Asgore, Frisk, and, for this historic moment Gaster and Toriel, as well their respective families and closest friends. They gathered in a conference room sealed with layers of magical security. The room was shaped like a dome, lined with silvery mirrors that shimmered with illusionary enchantments, and at its center stood a polished obsidian table.

Madam Seraphina Picquery, the current President of MACUSA, sat at the head of the table, flanked by advisors in plum-colored robes. Her expression was carefully measured, but her eyes betrayed interest. "We've assessed the situation and conducted magical scans to verify the nature of your kind," she began. "Let me say first: we are... astonished."

Asgore folded his hands, his golden fur bristling slightly. "We wish for peace, Madam President. Our people have suffered enough."

Seraphina nodded slowly. "And that is precisely what we hope to offer you. Sanctuary. MACUSA is willing to grant your people asylum, full magical protection, safe housing, and eventual integration into our society."

Toriel's eyes softened. "That is more than generous."

"However," Seraphina said, and the air shifted. "We ask something in return."

Frisk leaned forward, their brows furrowed.
*You asked her what do you want from us?

"We want your people to help the wizarding world... come out of hiding."

The table fell silent.

Gaster raised a brow bone. "You Want Us To Be Your Test Subjects."

"I wouldn't phrase it like that," Seraphina replied, lips pursed. "The magical society is hidden, globally. Entire nations conceal themselves from the eyes of non-magical humanity. But with every generation, non-magical society advances, technology, science, communication, and soon, we will find ourselves unable to hide indefinitely."

She stopped, looking over the group, letting the gravity of her words sink in.

"To prevent mass panic, most of the governments of the world are in agreement to initiated a program: a slow and measured introduction of magic into mainstream society. A secret initiative, agreed upon by the highest magical officials. And America..." She gave a faint smile, almost proud. "America has been selected as the testing grounds."

Undyne immediately straightened, fists clenched in excitement.

Picquery continued. "The plan requires us to select a race of sentient, magical beings, those who can serve as the first bridge. They will be supported, protected, and presented to the world as a proof of peaceful coexistence. You, monsterkind, qualify."

Gasps and murmurs filled the air.

"Of course," Picquery went on, "there are risks. Fear, prejudice, even danger. But know this: you would have the full backing of MACUSA. Resources, protection, political support. The alternative..." She let the words hang, heavier now.

Asgore's gaze turned to Toriel, then swept across the gathered monsters. His shoulders sagged with the weight of the decision, though his voice remained steady. "What do you think?"

"THAT SOUNDS AMAZING!" Papyrus burst out, hands flying into the air like banners. "I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL SHOW THE WORLD THE GLORY OF MONSTERKIND! WE SHALL BRING JOY! AND PROBABLY SHOW THEM THAT WE MEANS NO HARM!"

Undyne slammed her hands on the table. "IS THAT A CHALLENGE, HUMAN?! I BET I COULD-" She stopped, cheeks flushing. "...I mean, I bet I could make the world love us. Yeah. Totally." She sat down again, crossing her arms with an awkward cough.

Sans simply shrugged, though his grin tilted toward something more thoughtful than lazy. "sounds like a gamble. but, uh, hiding's never really been our style, huh?"

Frisk took a deep breath, looking up at Asgore.
*You asked if we say no?

"Then we won't abandon you," she admitted. "But we can't offer the same political backing. Not without public approval, and the timing is... delicate."

Asgore looked around at his people, memories of war and sorrow flickering behind his eyes. He turned back to Picquery. "Then we would like to try."

Toriel gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Frisk gave a firm nod. "We'll help. But on one condition."

"Name it."

"You help protect all of us. Not just the 'peaceful-looking' ones. Even the scary ones. Even the ones who've made mistakes."

Picquery considered this. Then she smiled.

"Agreed."

News traveled fast within MACUSA and spread like wildfire through the underground networks of the global wizarding community. While the No-Maj world remained blissfully unaware, the monsterkind found themselves at the center of magical diplomacy. Integration began slowly: MACUSA officials started relocating monster families into secure magical communities across right at the foot of Mt Ebbott. The citizens began welcoming these strange, skeletal newcomers under layers of charm and illusion.

The press conference was unlike anything the modern world had ever seen.

Set on the steps of MACUSA's New York headquarters, a grand building hidden by centuries of enchantments and perception wards, a vast crowd had been carefully assembled, both magical and No-Maj. Security was tighter than any political summit in recent memory. Aurors stood in rows, their wands subtly drawn but hidden by formal dress robes, while MACUSA operatives ran communications and damage control behind the scenes.

And in the center of it all stood Asgore Dreemurr, once King of the Underground, now the first recognized representative of a new people emerging into the light. Beside him, small in stature but enormous in presence, stood Frisk, ambassador, bridge between monsters and humanity, and a symbol of peace forged through perseverance.

Frisk wore a solemn expression as cameras, both magical and No-Maj, focused on them. The speech had been prepared meticulously with MACUSA's top diplomatic writers and reviewed no less than twenty-three times. Asgore adjusted his formal cloak, deep blue trimmed in silver, and stepped forward.

"My name is Asgore Dreemurr," he began, his voice deep and rich, projecting easily even without the aid of a microphone. "I stand before you today not as a ruler, but as a father, a friend, and a survivor."

A hush fell across the crowd.

"For centuries, my people, the monsters, have lived beneath the surface of this world, sealed away by magic older than even some wizarding nations remember. We did not live in peace. We lived in waiting... waiting for mercy, for kindness, for freedom."

He paused, and behind him, Frisk gently squeezed his hand. Asgore gave a small, grateful smile and continued.

"That mercy came in the form of a child. One who saw past fear, past violence, and gave us hope. Today, we come not to demand, not to conquer, but to extend a hand of friendship and to ask, will you accept us?"

Frisk stepped forward now, speaking into the No-Maj microphone MACUSA had charmed to work in tandem with magical broadcasting.

"The monsters are here. They're real. They're kind, strong, and brave. And they want to live beside you. Not hidden anymore. Not as stories or threats. Just... as neighbors."

From the crowd, a few scattered cheers rose, unsure, tentative. Then more joined in. Applause, cautious but building. Someone shouted, "Let them stay!" and the chant spread, overpowering the stunned silence that had reigned before.

And just like that, the veil had lifted. Monsterkind was no longer myth. No longer isolated.

They were here.

MACUSA's bold move sent immediate ripples through both magical and No-Maj communities worldwide. Within hours, footage of the press conference flooded social media, news outlets, and underground wizarding networks. The United Nations issued a statement of cautious interest. Several world leaders expressed concern, but also curiosity. The Vatican called an emergency theological summit.

Meanwhile, within the wizarding world, opinions were far from unified.

Most nations, particularly those in North and South America, and many in Scandinavia, Asia, and Africa, are the ones who had agreed to the gradual reveal initiative proposed by MACUSA. The logic was sound: in an era of satellites, facial recognition, and digital archives, keeping the magical world hidden was becoming increasingly impossible.

But not everyone was on board.

Inside a heavily warded office in the heart of London, Minister Cornelius Fudge of the British Ministry of Magic was anything but pleased.

"This is absurd," he spat, slamming a heavily crested scroll onto her desk. "Monsterkind? Public exposure? Cooperation with Muggles? What in Merlin's balls is MACUSA thinking?!"

His Undersecretary stood silently, also seething at the news. Britain had long prided itself on tradition, on the Statute of Secrecy being upheld without compromise. The British wizarding government had already been growing wary of MACUSA's liberal tendencies, especially after the reformation efforts following Grindelwald and Voldemort's defeats.

But this? This was blasphemy.

Fudge turned to his magical mirror and send a message to the International Confederation of Wizards.

When his face appeared in the shimmering circle among dozens of other representatives, his stance was clear.

"The British Ministry will not participate in this reckless unveiling. We remind the Confederation that the Statute of Secrecy remains binding and absolute. The exposure of our kind to Mugg- No-Majs is not only dangerous, it is an irreversible threat to our sovereignty."

Asgore, now representing monsterkind and Earth-based magical refugees, sat in a quiet corner of the meeting, Frisk beside him. They shared a look. It had only just begun, and already, the opposition was laying roots.

The town provided by MACUSA at the base of Mount Ebott was old, practically ancient. A ghost town of a forgotten Wizarding settlement, untouched by time yet perfectly preserved. Its survival through centuries of abandonment was thanks to one of its original founders, a master of runecraft whose enchantments still hummed gently through the very stones. The protective wards and preservation runes shimmered faintly as they passed, guiding the newcomers along a well-lit cobblestone path that wound through the heart of the quiet, waiting town.

At the center stood the tallest building, a grand old manor rising above the rooftops like a sentinel of the past. Its towering frame was still sturdy, though weathered, and its high arched windows, some cracked or fogged with age, glimmered faintly in the sunlight. Vines curled up its sides in elegant spirals, and though the garden had long since become overgrown with wildflowers and creeping herbs, the structure radiated a sense of dignity. History lived here.

Sure, it could use some updating. There was no electricity to speak of, and the glass panes would need replacing. New crops needed planting, and many of the houses wore the same palette of gray stone and faded brown wood. But with some work, just a splash of paint, a little warmth, and a community to bring it back to life, it could become something special. It could become a home.

Toriel walked at the front of the group, her eyes shining with an almost nostalgic glint as she looked over the wide, open streets. She spoke as she led them, her voice soft but vibrant, like a bedtime story told around a fireplace. She told tales of the old monster village, where magic had woven color into every window, where enchanted tapestries swayed in rhythm with the wind. Weekends used to see the market square buzzing with activity, monsters and humans side by side, bartering goods and sharing stories over freshly baked pastries or magical trinkets.

The town they stood in now had once been smaller, Toriel explained. It had served as a satellite community to the larger magical society that nurtured it. The fields around it had been farmland, maintained by magical and non-magical hands alike. The area had been magically expanded to allow space for more homes, shops, and community spaces, each one blessed with enough room for gardens and lawns. It was a haven, one of many across the world, but this one had been the largest, the capital of the American Wizarding world long ago.

Avallon, who had been trailing behind, wide-eyed, found the entire place fascinating. Every rune-etched lamppost, every creaking signpost swinging in the breeze, every building brimming with lost magic set his curiosity alight. He trailed his fingers across old wood and polished stone, eyes dancing as he whispered questions to Papyrus, who tried valiantly to answer with dramatic flair (and a few exaggerated facts).

Sans hung back slightly, hands in his pockets, watching with a lazy smile. "heh. place's got bones," he muttered, half to himself. "just needs a little flesh."

Avallon, standing between his brothers and father, looked up at the manor again. The quiet town, the warm air, the distant hum of lingering magic, it felt strange. Peaceful. Almost too peaceful.

But maybe, just maybe... this could work.

They were above ground now.

Chapter Text

The past week had been… intense.

With MACUSA's assistance and a fair amount of monster magic, the once-ghostly settlement was revitalized piece by piece. Runes etched into old stonework hummed to life, lampposts were erected and powered by enchanted crystal bulbs that flickered with warm golden light, and long-abandoned homes were cleaned out, repaired, and painted with color.

Gardens sprang up in front yards and behind fences, some sprouting earthy root vegetables, others bursting with magical flora that shimmered in the moonlight. The market square was cleared and readied for stalls. Fountains ran again, their enchanted waters bubbling with laughter-like sounds. What was once silent had started to hum with life and anticipation.

At the heart of the town stood the grandest structure, a very old manor. The manor became the collective home for Frisk's closest family and friends.

The outer walls had been restored with warm, dark red stones that caught the sunlight beautifully, replacing the cold, crumbling slate-gray exterior. Wooden flooring replaced bare stone, soft underfoot and full of warmth. The once-grand ballroom, dusty and forgotten, had been transformed into a vast communal living space and dining area. Cozy couches circled a large stone fireplace, and a long dining table, made by Gerson's old apprentice, sat proudly in the center, big enough for every monster and then some.

The upper floors were now a nest of family quarters, each door opening into rooms that overlooked the massive living space below. It was loud. It was chaotic. It was home.

Frisk, Chara, Asriel, and Avallon had, in their own way, turned it into the ultimate sleepover paradise.

The skeleton family, Avallon, Sans, Papyrus, and their recently-restored father Gaster, claimed one of the wings for themselves. It held a private living area, a shared bathroom (with many complaints from Sans about running out of hot water), and four individual bedrooms. It was quiet... relatively. At least until Papyrus decided it was time to "MOTIVATE EVERYONE WITH A MORNING SERENADE."

Alphys had, with Toriel's cautious blessing, claimed the old basement. She converted the underground space into her personal lab-slash-bedroom-slash-"keep out unless you want to be exploded" zone. Only Gaster who is a mad scientist himself, and Undyne dared venture down regularly, and only after donning what she called her "hazard goggles."

Toriel and Asgore, in a rare show of unity, agreed to share the original family wing. Toriel made it clear she would have her own bedroom, thank you very much. Asgore, with a sheepish nod and a sad smile, accepted. They did it for the kids. Chara, Frisk, and Asriel all shared the massive main bedroom between the two adult rooms.

Frisk had their own bunk bed, though Avallon often claimed the other bunk during sleepovers, sharing stories late into the night. The striped blue-and-purple comforter matched their usual shirt. Chara curled up in the other lower bunk, their maroon quilt arranged in a fort-like nest. Asriel, grinning as he always did, had called dibs on the top bunk, choosing golden sheets and dark green pillows that matched his own fur and eyes. Flowey meanwhile took residence in their most sunny spot near the bedroom window.

The family dynamic was complicated. But it was theirs.

Undyne (and technically also Alphys when she's out of her basement)'s wing remained a mystery to most. Crashes and yells echoed through the hallway at irregular hours. Papyrus once explained, with great enthusiasm, that her living room had been transformed into a dual-purpose dojo and kitchen. No one was brave enough to ask where she slept.

Mettaton, ever the flair-filled dramatist, had taken up residence with Napstablook in a cozy farmhouse near the edge of town. Together, they began the slow but dedicated process of moving the snail farm to the surface. Mettaton claimed it would become a "luxury slow-lounge and therapy spa experience," while Napstablook just wanted to be near the snails.

Avallon, meanwhile, stepped back from his bedroom doorway and wiped the sweat from his brow with a proud grin. He admired his work.

The soft moss-green carpet complemented the polished hardwood floor. His bed, a queen-size monstrosity that dwarfed him, was layered with a comforter checkered in purples and forest greens. The walls were painted a deep midnight-blue, flecked with little glowing paint dots to mimic stars. He'd insisted on the constellation detail, even if Sans joked that he was just "reaching for the stars without permission."

He'd picked everything himself, from the reading nook by the window to the enchanted lanterns that flickered a soft golden hue at night. He had even taken over Sans's room design because, as he put it, "If I l-left it to y-you, it'd j-just be a m-mattress and e-empty ketchup b-bottles."

"I like minimalism," Sans had defended lazily.

"You l-like not doing a-anything," Avallon had shot back, arms crossed.

Papyrus, meanwhile, had been gently dissuaded from painting his room a blinding orange. With some negotiation (and a bribe of pasta nights), Avallon helped him choose a cooler palette of sky blues and cream accents.

With a happy sigh, Avallon flopped onto his oversized bed. He stretched, arms spread wide like he was claiming the stars themselves, before rolling onto his stomach and letting the softness pull him in.

Not far away, in the adjoining bedroom, Gaster shifted in his own bed. The ex-scientist muttered sleepily about quantum matrices and needing a larger beaker set. A snore followed, deep and gravelly, before silence settled again.

Avallon grinned.

It wasn't perfect yet. The town still had much to rebuild. The Sanctuary needed more paint, more pictures on the walls, more warmth, but it was theirs now.

And slowly, with every laugh, meal, and chaotic shout echoing through the halls, it was becoming home.

The new house, well, manor really, but Sans figured the semantics didn’t matter much, wasn’t half bad. Cozy in some places, sprawling in others, it felt like a strange mix between a dream and a hotel lobby. Big enough for all of them to live under the same roof, finally.

And for the first time in… well, forever, Gaster was going to live with them too. Not just hovering on the edge of existence or visiting in fleeting glimpses, but really here. Permanently. Probably to bond, to rebuild, to make up for all that lost time none of them had asked for but all of them had carried.

Sans wasn’t about to lie to himself, not in the privacy of his own skull, anyway. Some small, childish part of him still felt bitter. Bitter about raising Papyrus practically on his own, about carrying that weight when he had barely known how to stand upright himself. Later, he’d carried Avallon too, guiding him through the fog of trauma and the uncertainty of belonging. It hadn’t been fair. None of it. And a sliver of him wanted to point the finger at Gaster, even if he knew the truth, knew that what had happened hadn’t been under his control.

But at least now, Dadster was here. Trying. Not off in the void, not lost to the world. Here, in the same house, breathing the same air, trying to piece together what family could still mean.

It was surreal.

“SANS! LOOK! MY BED LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE THE ONE BACK IN SNOWDIN! PERHAPS YOU COULD READ FLUFFY BUNNY FOR OLD TIMES’ SAKE?” Papyrus’s voice boomed from the upstairs landing, filled with glee.

Gaster peeked out from the kitchen in their family wing, shoulders a little too tense, expression caught between warmth and guilt. His gaze lingered on the stairwell like it was an impossible mountain.

“S-Sans! L-look! My room’s g-got its own b-balcony!” Avallon’s shout echoed down a moment later, excited and stuttering all at once. “C-can we g-get that bean bag we s-saw at the market a f-few days ago? P-please?”

Sans chuckled under his breath, rubbing the back of his skull. “don’t worry ‘bout it, dadster. Paps is just excited. he loves the voices i do for fluffy bunny and the gang. maybe he’ll rope you into it tomorrow night. and Val, well, you know he’s over the moon about finally having you here in person.”

Gaster’s expression softened into a small, fragile smile, though his eyes still betrayed the storm underneath. Anxiety, guilt, hope, all tangled together.

“Perhaps So…” His voice was soft, quiet, almost tentative.

Sans offered a lopsided grin. “take it easy, pops. you’re doin’ fine.” With that, he pushed away from the counter and started up the stairs.

The first week in their new home was chaotic in a way only a house full of monsters, childrens, two recently resurrected children, and a recently resurrected Dadster could manage.

It wasn't that anyone fought, well, not seriously, anyway, but more that no one had quite figured out the flow of things yet. It was an adjustment, after all: new rooms, new routines, a new world above ground, and, perhaps the strangest of all... a new-old father figure hovering quietly just outside their orbit.

Gaster tried, he really did.

He hovered like static in the hallway the first few days, watching his sons with this look of uncertain longing. The halls echoed with the distant clack of bones and slippers, mostly Sans, sneaking out for a midnight snack, only to be intercepted by a very awake Gaster holding a mug of chamomile tea.

"...you don't sleep much, do you?" Sans had quipped dryly, accepting the tea anyway.

"Old Habit," Gaster murmured, watching as his son shuffled back to his room with a yawn and a grunt that might've been a "thanks."

Papyrus was less subtle. He declared, loudly and without shame, "I HAVE DECIDED TO HOLD A BONDING ACTIVITY, BUT ONLY IF YOU CAN DEFEAT ME IN A PASTA-OFF!"

Gaster blinked. "A... Pasta-Off?"

"A COMPETITION OF CULINARY EXCELLENCE! MAY THE BETTER SKELETON WIN!"

It ended with flour on the ceiling, marinara in Gaster's eye socket, and Papyrus dramatically flopping on the couch, declaring the match a tie. Gaster didn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Avallon, meanwhile, was more cautious, not distant, exactly, but watchful. He often stuck close to Sans or Papyrus when Gaster was around, as if taking their cues before deciding how to act.

One afternoon, Gaster found him in the small library nook that had been added between their rooms. Avallon was curled up on a beanbag chair, flipping through a book on star charts, his dark purple fluffy slippers dangling off his feet.

"...You Like Astronomy?" Gaster asked, voice gentle.

Avallon nodded but didn't look up. "K-kinda. It's quiet."

"Stars Are Constant," Gaster said, stepping inside and kneeling down beside the shelf. "No Matter The World, The Dimension, The Timeline... They Burn."

That got a glance. "You believe in multiverses?"

Gaster chuckled softly, reaching for a book on magical particle theory. "Kiddo, We Live In One."

And just like that, the air shifted. Not quite relaxed, but less stiff.

Later that week, the four of them, Sans, Papyrus, Avallon, and Gaster, shared a breakfast where no one burned the eggs, no one spilled ketchup on the table (except Sans, who insisted it was "decorative"), and no one got up and left halfway through.

Gaster told a joke. A bad one.

"What Did The Proton Say To The Electron?"

Papyrus squinted. "I DON'T KNOW, WHAT?"

"You're So Negative."

There was silence. Then Sans let out a snort. "heh... nerd."

Avallon rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. "Y-you've been spending too m-much time around S-Sans."

Sans launched into a pun war. Gaster lost immediately and had to wear a paper crown Papyrus made out of napkins that read "PUN PEASANT."

By the time night fell again, and Avallon curled into his oversized bed, he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this patchwork family of his was starting to feel real. Not perfect, but real.

And when Gaster passed by his doorway to say goodnight, softly adjusting the blanket that had fallen off his son's shoulder, Avallon didn't flinch.

He just smiled, half-asleep. "Night, D-dad."

Gaster froze for a fraction of a second.

"...Goodnight, My Starlight."

Life in the old wizarding town wasn't exactly normal yet, but it was getting there.

The manor at the center of the village was big enough to host all the core residents, though some monsters opted to settle in the nearby houses instead. It was easier that way. Less chance of Sans waking people up with microwave burrito explosions or Papyrus drilling "THE PERFECT GARLIC BREAD RECIPE" at 2 a.m.

Toriel, ever the motherly guide, took on the role of the unofficial town organizer. She was often seen sweeping the dust from old shops, making lists of potential renovations, and chasing after small monster children who were getting too curious about the basement of the library.

She didn't say much about Gaster's return at first, but she did start baking more. A lot more.

One day, she left a tray of cinnamon-butterscotch scones outside Gaster's study without a word. No note. No explanation. The tray was empty within the hour.

The next day, she left two trays.

"progress," Sans muttered, watching through squinted sockets as Gaster awkwardly added a new recipe book to the shared kitchen shelf, one hand lingering on the spine as if unsure he had permission to be there.

Undyne, on the other hand, treated this new life as a training camp.

"WE'RE ABOVEGROUND NOW!" she bellowed one morning from atop the town square fountain. "AND THAT MEANS WE HAVE NEW OBSTACLES TO SMASH!"

Her first obstacle: getting electricity running without blowing anything up.

She lasted five minutes with the old wiring before Alphys, frazzled, grease-smeared, and holding five spell-imbued screwdrivers, dragged her out of the breaker box by the ear.

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, babe," Alphys muttered, "but if you destroy one more rune conduit, I'm going to tape you to the roof as a lightning rod."

"Joke's on you, that sounds AWESOME."

They settled into a rhythm, though. Alphys took to the old wizard tech like a fish to water, or, as Sans put it, like a nerd to nostalgia. She repurposed the abandoned town's arcane infrastructure into a combination of science and sorcery that had the entire household running on magically-enhanced solar panels within the week.

"Who needs coal when you've got sunlight and SOUL-power, huh?" she said proudly, patting the humming converter core.

Mettaton, of course, made himself the unofficial town influencer.

"I'VE DECIDED TO HOST A WEEKLY VARIETY SHOW!" he announced. "TO CELEBRATE THE REBIRTH OF OUR SOCIETY AND THE UNDISPUTED FABULOUSNESS OF MYSELF."

His first broadcast was a chaotic masterpiece: cooking with Papyrus (who insisted on using ketchup as a garnish for everything), a dance-off with Napstablook (who floated through the floor halfway through), and an emotional piano solo from Burgerpants that ended in tears, applause, and spontaneous confetti from Muffet's spiders.

Avallon sat curled on the couch next to Sans through it all, laughing so hard his eye sockets ached.

"I give it three stars," Sans declared. "would've been four if the spaghetti hadn't tried to eat my shoe."

The Dog Family took over a cottage near the west edge of town and immediately began digging up the garden to make a "secret tactical tunnel network." No one told them it wasn't actually secret. They were having too much fun.

Asgore, quiet and steady as always, found a new calling in gardening again. The moment he discovered the soil outside their manor was magically enriched, he practically beamed.

"This reminds me of the old surface... before the war," he said softly, placing tiny magical bulbs into the soil. "Maybe we can grow new roots here."

Avallon liked spending time in the garden with him. It was peaceful. Safe. Sometimes, Gaster would join them silently, kneeling beside the flowerbeds, sketching magical growth patterns and murmuring theories.

No one interrupted those moments. Not even Sans.

And as the days stretched longer, and the sun became a familiar friend overhead, their odd little family began to settle.

One evening, Gaster entered the living room to find all three of his sons slumped on the couch. Papyrus was dozing with a cookbook in his lap, Avallon was half-asleep wrapped in a fuzzy orange blanket with a half-eaten cookie in one hand, and Sans was snoring with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, a forgotten pun book on his chest.

Gaster smiled.

He didn't say a word, just fetched a spare blanket, covered them all gently, and turned off the light.

For the first time in a long, long while, everything felt right.

"G'mornin..." Avallon mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep as he shuffled into the large communal kitchen.

The space was warm with the scent of cinnamon and something baking, the early morning light streaming through the wide, newly-installed glass windows that made the stone kitchen feel far more alive than it had days ago. Toriel was already busy at the counter, humming softly as she flipped through a well-worn recipe book, flour dusting the front of her apron. On the long wooden table, Frisk, Chara, and Asriel were sprawled out like discarded dolls, their faces planted into their arms or half-covered by their hair/fur or ears, an untouched platter of sliced fruit sitting between them.

Toriel looked up at the quiet greeting and offered Avallon a warm smile. "Oh, good morning, dear. Come, sit. Are your brothers up yet?"

Avallon yawned as he clambered onto his usual chair between the Dreemurr. Frisk murmured something unintelligible in their sleep but didn't lift their head, while Asriel made a soft snoring sound, drooling slightly onto the table.

He shook his head. "Papyrus w-will be up soon for his t-training with Undyne, but Sans p-probably won't wake up for a few m-more hours."

Toriel frowned gently. "Oh dear, that won't do... We have a meeting with Headmaster Fontaine and the school faculty this morning. It's about enrolling monster children and introducing some monster-centered classes into the curriculum," she said, glancing back at the book in her hands. "Still, I suppose we can give Sans a little longer to sleep. He has been working hard."

"W-working hard at pretending to nap under the porch swing, m-maybe," Avallon muttered with a cheeky grin, reaching over to pluck several blackberries from the fruit plate. Frisk shifted just enough to swat at his hand with sleepy indignation, missing by several inches.

Toriel chuckled, shaking her head fondly. "He may not show it, but Sans has been helping with the security wards around town. His magic has a very unique signature, it blends well with the ambient magic of the old settlement."

"What k-kind of classes are you thinking a-about?" Avallon asked between bites, munching through a strawberry before stabbing a grape with a fingertip.

"Monster History, SOUL Magic, and something Asgore and Gaster have proposed, a course on Crysalith Affinity," Toriel replied as she began kneading dough at the side counter. "We've realized that our young ones will need help learning how to use their gemstones properly, especially those that will born on the surface. Humans are fascinated by them too, so it might serve as a cultural exchange."

"Do we get g-graded on how s-shiny they are?" Avallon joked, tilting his head as if trying to see his own catalyst.

Toriel laughed. "Only if you polish them daily, my child."

The two shared a warm smile before Avallon leaned lazily over to poke Asriel's fuzzy cheek. "Rise and s-shine, P-prince Fluffbutt."

Asriel groaned and flailed a hand toward him, missing entirely before slumping even further into the table.

Unbothered, Avallon leaned back and picked up a strawberry. "Has A-Asgore decided on what to call the town yet?"

"He's been thinking about it," Toriel said, brushing flour from her paws. "But I believe he wishes to ask Frisk for their input. After all, he is... well, let's say he has a gift for naming things terribly."

"Like c-calling the capital 'New Home,'" Avallon snickered.

Toriel sighed dramatically. "Yes. A name that screamed creativity."

Both laughed softly, the kind of shared humor that only comes from living through far too much together.

The quiet of early morning didn't last much longer.

A thump echoed from upstairs, followed by a crash, a muffled "I'M OKAY!" and the unmistakable sound of Papyrus's armored boots clanking against wood as he thundered down the hall.

Seconds later, the tall skeleton burst into the kitchen with the dramatic energy of someone who treated breakfast like a battlefield. "GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE!" he declared proudly, striking a pose that rattled a nearby spice rack. "THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS READY FOR TRAINING, AND FOR PANCAKES!"

"Good morning, Papyrus," Toriel said with a gentle smile, gesturing toward the table. "Come sit. Breakfast is almost ready."

"EXCELLENT! FUEL IS ESSENTIAL FOR A STRONG BODY AND STRONGER BONES!" he proclaimed as he slid into a seat next to Chara, who groaned and buried their face further into the table.

Papyrus blinked. "ARE THEY... DEAD?"

Avallon snorted into his cup of juice. "Just s-sleepy. Maybe u-undead."

The next to arrive, floating in almost literally, was Gaster.

He stepped through the threshold quietly, his black coat trailing behind him like smoke, and gave a nod of greeting to Toriel. "Smells Wonderful, Toriel," he said in his usual low, staticky voice. His eye sockets briefly flicked toward the slumped trio at the table, then to Avallon, who was currently balancing a grape on Frisk's nose. "Breakfast Warfare Again, I See."

"Training their r-reflexes," Avallon replied innocently.

"They're Failing Spectacularly," Gaster observed, amused as he took a seat and summoned a mug of coffee into his hand with a flick of magic.

Next came Asgore, ducking slightly to pass through the doorframe, still in his sleepwear robe, a few flower petals clinging to his beard from his usual early-morning gardening.

"Ah, good morning, everyone!" he rumbled cheerfully. "I brought fresh goldenflowers for the table!"

"Please don't put them in the pancakes again," Chara mumbled without lifting their head.

Asgore chuckled sheepishly. "Noted."

The door opened once more, without a sound this time, and swept in as Sans shuffled through in fuzzy slippers, jacket drooping over one shoulder, eyelights barely lit.

"mornin'," he mumbled, half-collapsing into the seat next to Gaster and planting his face into the table beside Asriel's.

Gaster raised a brow ridge. "You Know We Have A Meeting In An Hour."

Sans gave a tiny thumbs-up without lifting his head.

Toriel placed a fresh stack of pancakes on the center of the table and clapped her hands lightly. "Alright, everyone. Breakfast is served!"

The scent of syrup and cinnamon seemed to magically revive most of the table. Frisk finally sat up, rubbing their eyes blearily, and reached for a fork. Asriel followed, ears twitching as he smelled butter. Even Chara managed to upright themselves with a growl of "Fine, I'm awake," and a half-hearted glare at Avallon, who just grinned smugly in response.

"Ah, yes," Papyrus said, dramatically taking the syrup bottle like it was Excalibur. "THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY, TO BE SHARED WITH FAMILY!"

"You're really dramatic before 9 AM," Chara muttered, but their smile betrayed any real annoyance.

Avallon leaned back in his chair, quietly watching his family around the table, Toriel cutting pancakes for Asriel and Frisk, Gaster sipping coffee while gently brushing crumbs from Sans's jacket, Papyrus giving an impromptu monologue about breakfast variety, Asgore beaming at everyone like a proud grandfather.

It was loud, a little chaotic, and not one moment was quiet... but it was home.

After breakfast, the family scattered like startled birds, each with their own post-meal routine, ranging from mildly productive to completely unhinged.

Toriel remained in the kitchen, humming softly as she rinsed dishes by hand, despite Gaster's insistence that he could enchant a proper dishwashing charm. "No magic in my kitchen," she declared firmly when he offered again. "It builds character."

Chara, meanwhile, was halfway up the stairs dragging Frisk and Asriel behind them. "C'mon, we gotta see the attic! I bet it's full of old wizard junk. Maybe even a haunted trunk or two."

*You asked why do Chara want it to be haunted?
Frisk asked, already regretting every decision that led them to this moment.

"Because haunted trunks are fun. Duh."

Asriel muttered something about ghosts not being fun, especially when they scream at 2 a.m., but he followed anyway, curiosity winning over fear.

In another part of the manor, Papyrus had taken it upon himself to begin what he proudly called "OPERATION: GLORIOUS INTERIOR REVITALIZATION." He was dragging an enormous, dusty sofa across the main hallway with the kind of determination only the Great Papyrus could muster.

"WE SHALL BEGIN BY REPOSITIONING THIS SITTING DEVICE TO A MORE STRATEGIC LOCATION! THE VIEW FROM THIS ANGLE IS- oh stars, IT'S STUCK-"

There was a loud grunt, followed by a magical POP! and the couch suddenly hovered a foot above the ground.

"need a hand, bro?" Sans offered lazily from a nearby armchair, where he had been "testing" the furniture for nap compatibility.

"NO NEED! I HAD IT COMPLETELY UNDER CONTROL!" Papyrus declared, now comically floating above the floor as well thanks to a misfired levitation rune.

Gaster, sipping his tea while flipping through several floating scrolls in the living room, didn't even look up. "Try Adjusting The Runic Anchor Below The Floorboards. It's Overcharged. Likely Reactive To Monster Magic."

Papyrus blinked. "AH. YES. OF COURSE. I KNEW THAT."

He did not know that.

Meanwhile, Avallon had claimed the manor's library as his personal kingdom, complete with a dusty armchair, a blanket throne, and a stack of spellbooks so high it could topple at any moment.

"Why are you reading hexes for werewolves?" Asgore asked as he peeked in, holding a tray of goldenflower tea.

Avallon grinned without looking up. "Research."

"For...?"

"...Research."

He wisely didn't ask again.

Elsewhere in the manor, Chara, Frisk, and Asriel had discovered the attic was indeed full of junk, and possibly alive.

"Okay," Chara said, opening a trunk only to be greeted with a magical puff of smoke and a squeaky voice yelling, "HOW DARE YOU OPEN ME WITHOUT KNOCKING?!"

They slammed the lid shut. "New rule. We knock on everything now."

"Even the rugs?" Asriel asked.

"Yes. Especially the rugs."

Back downstairs, Gaster had begun testing the old magical wards embedded into the house's stonework. A quiet rumble passed through the walls as he activated an enchantment.

"what was that?" Sans asked, blinking awake from his nap.

"Temporal Stasis Bubble. It Froze The Entire East Wing For Half A Second. Impressive Craftsmanship. Could Use Updating."

"Please don't accidentally time-loop the pantry again," Toriel called from the kitchen.

"I Said Once," Gaster muttered.

Just then, Frisk came running down the stairs, arms full of what looked like a very angry, sentient dust broom.
*You asked Mom is this broom supposed to attack people?

"No, dear. That one's clearly upset."

*You asked why is it biting you?!

Toriel calmly plucked the broom out of Frisk's arms, soothed it like a misbehaving puppy, and set it in the corner. "It's territorial. Give it space and it'll stop gnawing."

Chara appeared in the hallway doorway with glowing eyes. "Can I tame it?"

"No."

"Can I name it?"

"No."

"...Too late."

"CHARA."

The broom, now dubbed "MurderTwig," followed Chara loyally for the rest of the morning.

By the time the sun reached its highest point, most of the family had settled into their preferred chaos:

Sans had claimed a sunny spot on the windowsill to nap with his slipper over his face.

Papyrus had somehow painted one of the halls in bright red and was now taping "INSPIRATIONAL POSTERS" everywhere.

Gaster had charmed the fireplace to emit gentle classical music every time someone walked by, which annoyed Chara and soothed Asriel.

Chara had started sketching a map of the house, marking rooms with things like "MAYBE HAUNTED," "DEFINITELY TRAPDOOR," and "SECRET NOODLE LAB?"

Frisk had bandaged their fingers from another broom-related incident and was now organizing old books by smell.

Toriel prepared lunch while shooing floating plates back into cupboards.

Eventually, Toriel clapped her hands together and announced with a warm smile, "Now that we've all had our fun, let's wash up. We've a meeting at Ilvermorny in an hour. I expect everyone dressed, brushed, and not followed by haunted cleaning tools."

A chorus of groans and grumbles followed, but beneath it all was something bright, something whole.

Chapter Text

Since the first part storyline of this book is officially over, some of the continuation for this book will just be an "update it after I finished this one-shot" kinda story until the Hogwarts Arc is ready. Of course I'll added the rest of the storyline for the Surface Arc too, but in between that it'll be random one-shot (maybe with continuation if I like the one-shot idea).

Now, you can make requests for one-shot prompt, which I will attempt if I think it will go well with this AU storyline. And since I will have this request page on 2 different platforms (Wattpad & AO3), I will post two one-shot per update maximum because of it, one request from each platforms, plus the main storyline sometimes.

I will accept the request from the first to fifth of each month. If you put up your request after that? Well if I decided to use your prompt it'll be used for the next time I update this.

The requests can be specific, but please don't make them too detailed. I want some creative freedom. If I really like the idea, I will probably do continuation stories. Also note if you want or don't want to be credited for the idea. (Tbh not sure why you wouldn't though)

I will NOT do lemons/smut, since thinking about people reading them makes me uncomfortable.

I am happy to do multiverse and/or fandom crossovers, especially if I know the fandom. If you guys request a fandom I'm unfamiliar though? Welp depends if I like the fandom enough to do a crossover with my limited knowledge. I also will accept any request to make a short version of other AUs of my ArcalithTale, for example if someone request a Dusttale version with Avallon as the last skeleton or something like that.

On that note, just a reminder that this already a Harry Potter crossover with Undertale. And please only put your request in this chapter's comment section.

Chapter Text

“I n-never knew b-blackberry and chocolate c-can taste this good!” Avallon exclaimed, his whole face lighting up as he clutched the still-warm cookie between his bony fingers. The soft dough practically melted in his mouth, rich with bittersweet chocolate chunks and speckled with tart bursts of blackberry. His smile stretched wide enough to show almost every tooth.

He took another eager bite, muffled sounds of delight slipping out as though he couldn’t contain himself.

Across the table, his unofficial cousins stared at him with a mixture of surprise and delight.

“See?” Chara said, leaning forward with a triumphant grin. “I told you! It’s awesome, right? But this is just one combo. There’s dark chocolate, milk chocolate, flavored chocolate, so many different kinds to try!” Their voice carried an enthusiasm that bordered on lecturing, as though they had been preparing for this moment their whole life.

Asriel, sitting beside them, chuckled into his paw as he nibbled his own square of chocolate. “You’re gonna make yourself sound like a salesmonster, Chara.”

*You asked what about white chocolate?
Frisk tilted their head curiously, voice soft but clear. Their innocent question made Chara freeze mid-breath.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chara’s grin turned into a look of disgust. They slammed their hand against the table, startling Avallon so much that he nearly dropped his cookie.

“White chocolate isn’t even real chocolate!” Chara declared, their tone bordering on dramatic outrage. “It’s a scam! It’s just cocoa butter mixed with sugar and milk solids! A sweet, greasy lie wearing chocolate’s clothes!”

Frisk blinked, then started laughing so hard they nearly fell off their chair.

Avallon stared, wide-eyed, his cookie paused halfway to his mouth. “Y-you’re really getting w-worked up… over ch-chocolate?” he stammered.

Chara whipped their head toward him, their eyes burning with conviction. “IT’S NOT JUST CHOCOLATE, IT’S A PRINCIPLE!”

Asriel sighed heavily, dragging a paw down his face. “Just let them go. Trust me, there’s no stopping it once Chara gets into one of their rants.” He leaned conspiratorially toward Avallon, lowering his voice. “One time Mom bought unfrosted donuts and they stayed grumpy for three whole days.”

“IT WAS AN OUTRAGE!” Chara cut in, overhearing. “Who even SELLS unfrosted donuts?! That’s just… bread! Bread with aspirations!”

Avallon blinked again, unsure whether to laugh or hide under the table. His smile twitched, trying not to burst into giggles.

*You pointed out that Avallon is similar about blackberries and blackcurrant,
Frisk said with a mischievous grin, turning the tide of battle without hesitation.

The table fell silent for a beat. Chara slowly turned, their lips curling into a sly smirk.

“Ohhh, is that so?” they drawled, their earlier fury already redirected like a predator scenting new prey.

Avallon’s sockets widened in alarm. “w-wait, what? that’s not—” he tried to squeak out a protest.

“Let me guess…” Chara tapped their chin theatrically. “If someone says blackberries taste bitter, you start mumbling about antioxidants and natural sweetness? If someone forgets to buy them, you sulk for an entire week, don’t you?”

Avallon’s bones practically rattled as he sputtered in protest. “I-it’s not sulking, it’s… it’s appreciation! blackberries are… they’re important!” His voice cracked halfway, turning defensive and flustered.

Asriel burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Oh stars, you do sound like Chara! You’re both hopeless!”

Chara gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me! This is about justice! If the world mislabels white chocolate as real chocolate, it’s my duty to educate! And if Avallon wants to defend his precious berries, he’s just following his heart!”

Frisk leaned onto the table with their chin in their hands, watching the chaos with a serene smile. Both of you are dramatic about food, they signed, they signed, calm as cucumber.

“WE ARE NOT DRAMATIC!” Chara and Avallon snapped at the same time, before glancing at each other in shock.

Silence.

Then, as if a dam broke, Asriel collapsed against the table, howling with laughter. Frisk tried to cover their mouth but giggles slipped through anyway.

Avallon hunched in his chair, cheek bones glowing faintly green with embarrassment. Chara crossed their arms, huffing with indignation. But after a moment, they caught each other’s gaze… and both cracked reluctant smiles.

“…fine,” Chara muttered. “Maybe you’re not so bad.”

Avallon gave a small, sheepish grin in return. “…you t-too, I guess.”

Asriel wiped his eyes, still laughing. “You two are ridiculous. Mom’s gonna love this.”

The warmth of the kitchen wrapped around them like a blanket: the smell of fresh cookies, the faint crackle of the oven cooling, and the sound of laughter bouncing between family.

.... "B-but really though, I-I kinda like white chocolate s-sometimes..."

"WHAT?!"

The kitchen was still a battlefield.

Cups clinked against plates, spoons clattered, and the air smelled of sugar and cinnamon. Avallon, Chara, Frisk, and Asriel were halfway into what could only be described as a “Chocolate War of Ideals.”

“Dark chocolate is the best,” Chara declared for the hundredth time, stubbornly chewing on another square. “It’s pure. It doesn’t need extra sweetness, just intensity.”

*You said that bitter doesn’t equal better, Milk chocolate is perfect. Sweet, smooth, friendly. It’s like a hug in candy form!
Frisk countered, nose scrunched up.

Avallon, hunched on his chair and holding up a half-eaten cookie, waved dramatically. “N-no, you’re both wrong! White chocolate i-is the best, l-like sweet snow t-that melts in your mouth! It’s not bitter o-or heavy, it’s fun!”

Asriel rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out. “White chocolate isn’t even real chocolate, Val! It doesn’t even have cocoa solids in it, it’s just sugar and milk with fancy branding! It’s like calling ketchup a vegetable!”

“HEY!” Avallon puffed up. “K-ketchup is, uh, a-actually Sans says it counts!”

That set the other three off into a chorus of groans, protests, and laughter, the table practically rattling under their animated gestures.

It was at this exact point that Toriel stepped into the kitchen, drawn by the unmistakable noise of four children waging culinary war. She had a folded basket of laundry in her arms and one eyebrow arched in that elegant-yet-dangerous way only mothers could manage.

“…What, pray tell, is going on here?” she asked, voice calm but laced with unmistakable amusement.

All four froze mid-argument. Avallon had a crumb caught on his teeth. Chara still held a dramatic fistful of dark chocolate squares. Frisk’s spoon hovered in midair like they’d been about to point it accusingly. Asriel had his arms crossed with all the sass of a goat prince about to deliver a counterattack.

*You said they're having a chocolate debate?
Frisk admitted sheepishly.

Toriel set the laundry basket down on the counter, dusted her hands together, and considered them. “Ah. The great chocolate discourse.” She smiled, the kind that carried both fondness and a touch of mischief. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“SEE?!” Avallon jumped on the opportunity. “Even Aunty says it’s a thing!”

Toriel folded her arms neatly and hummed, deliberately dragging out the silence as the children leaned forward in suspense. Finally, she said, “Well… if I am to give my personal opinion… I would say dark chocolate is superior.”

Chara immediately shot up from their chair, triumphant. “HA! VICTORY!”

“WHAT?!” Frisk yelped, using their voice for once, betrayal written all over their face.

“NOOO!” Avallon groaned, dropping his cookie to the plate like it had personally failed him.

“Yesss,” Asriel hissed, fangs peeking in his grin. “Mother has taste.”

Toriel chuckled softly, clearly enjoying herself. “It has depth, it has richness… and, unlike milk or white, one can truly appreciate the flavor of the cocoa bean. It pairs delightfully with tea.”

Chara smirked at the others, smug as royalty. “Told you.”

“BUT!” Toriel continued, raising a single finger with the kind of authority that could silence even the noisiest of monsters. “Dark chocolate may be my preference, but that does not mean the others are without merit. White chocolate, for instance, is splendid for baking, particularly in cookies. Its sweetness can balance other flavors.”

Avallon perked up immediately, clutching his half-eaten cookie again like it was now his holy weapon. “HAH! SEE?! Auntie a-agrees with m-me too!”

Toriel smiled warmly at him, then turned to Frisk. “And milk chocolate is, of course, a classic comfort. The children I once taught in the school above adored it. It is familiar, safe, and carries a kind of joy unique to its sweetness.”

Frisk’s face lit up.
*You asked if she mean it’s like… chocolate for the SOUL?

Toriel chuckled, a soft rumble. “One could say that.”

Chara threw their arms into the air. “Wait, she just supported all of us!”

“That’s cheating!” Asriel accused, pointing at her with mock outrage.

Toriel lifted her chin with mock regal dignity. “I am not cheating. I am simply acknowledging that all three types have their place. Chocolate, after all, is like children, each unique, each with their own strengths.”

There was a pause. The kids looked at each other. Then at her.

“…You just compared us to chocolate,” Chara said flatly.

“Yes,” Toriel said without hesitation, pouring herself a cup of tea as if the matter were settled.

Frisk snorted. Asriel burst into laughter. Even Avallon, after a stunned beat, giggled until he nearly dropped his cookie again.

And just like that, the Chocolate War erupted all over again, but this time, Toriel was in it. She calmly sipped her tea while tossing casual, devastating remarks into the fray, siding one moment with Avallon’s “snow-sweet white,” then backing Chara’s “refined darkness,” before praising Frisk’s “comforting milk.”

By the end of it, the kitchen was filled with laughter that spilled into the hallways, the plates were dusted with crumbs, and Toriel shook her head fondly at the lot of them.

Chapter Text

The grass crunched softly beneath Avallon’s shoes as he hummed a gentle tune under his breath. His steps were unhurried, but his mind wasn’t. A twinge of guilt sat in his chest, he hadn’t told Frisk, Asriel, or Chara he was leaving. Instead, he’d slipped away while their backs were turned, vanishing into the quiet hills.

He loved them. He truly did. They were his family just as much as Sans, Papyrus, and Dad were. But ever since the knowledge details of he-kinda-give-away-the-remains-of-his-mum-SOUL-to-kinda-revive-Asriel-and-Chara known, they had been unbearably clingy (it's also probably because he caught a pretty bad cold a week earlier but shush). Hovering, fretting, fussing. He understood why, but it was overwhelming on top of the noise already crowding his skull. Even his own family wasn’t this clingy.

So he walked.

A soft sigh left him. Then—

—a noise.

Avallon froze, tilting his head. It sounded faint at first, carried on the breeze. A muffled scuffle, voices raised. Was that… arguing?

His curiosity prickled despite himself. Squinting, he wandered closer, feet crunching softly through the grass. If it was dangerous, he could bolt, he had practice in that, after all.

“WHaT dOn’t yOU unDeRsTaNd aboUt nOt ToucHiNg—ARgH! StOP MoVIng, sQuId!”

Avallon blinked.

Laughter followed, tangled with the sounds of struggling.

A heavy sigh cut through it. “Ink!”

Ink?

Weird name choice.

Still, Avallon thought, he could accept weird after everything he’d seen. Other universes existed, Dad literally just confirmed it in his notes. But the chances of stumbling into one this soon? The odds were ridiculous.

“If you hadn’t attempted to pull that prank on us there and then, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” a deeper voice drawled, silky smooth and dry.

“Sorry, brother,” came the sheepish, clearly feminine voice, reply of the one who’d yelled ‘Ink’ earlier.

“To be fair, I kinda thought that's the perfect time to pull that prank,” a fourth, androgynous voice huffed sheepishly. That had to be Ink. Avallon could almost picture them, arms crossed, indignant pout, though he had no clue what this Ink actually looked like.

“Well we’re kinda tied up because you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” the passive-aggressive one shot back.

A pause. Then, a sly remark:
“I didn’t think you had it in you, Artemis.”

Artemis?

Someone sighed heavily.

“CaN ANyoNe MoVe enOugh To gEt tO tHE DaMN KNot?” That voice was glitchy, duel-toned, but undoubtedly female one, tinged with genuine frustration.

“I’m too tightly pressed against Ink to summon any tentacles.”

“Sorry,” Artemis muttered.

“Nope!” Ink chirped unrepentantly.

…Maybe Avallon should approach.

The glitchy one cursed Ink’s existence under her breath.

Fiddling nervously with his Crysalith, Avallon crept closer, pressing himself against the side of a rock outcrop until he finally dared peek around—

Two pairs of eye lights were already staring directly at him.

“Eep!” Avallon yelped and ducked back behind the rock, cloak hood falling further over his skull.

“Wait!” Artemis called quickly. “Wait a second, could you lend us a hand?!”

“oh! who are you talking to?” Ink’s voice piped up with curious delight.

Avallon squeezed his eye sockets shut, took a breath, and exhaled. Okay. He could do this.

Slowly, he peeked out again. This time all four of them were watching him expectantly. “…H-hi?” he stammered.

“how cute!” The one splattered with black ink, possibly Ink, beamed, grinning wide. “oh wow! wasn’t expecting to see another skeleton type besides Gaster, Sans, or Papyrus! rare find!”

Skeleton type? Avallon decided not to question that. One problem at a time.

Burying his face deeper into his hood, he stepped from behind the rocks and shuffled forward, wary eye lights flicking between the strangers. All four were tied back-to-back by some strange rope that shimmered like black static, pulling them into an uncomfortable cluster.

“…Wh-where’s th-the p-problem?” Avallon asked carefully.

“BY mE aNd Ink,” the black skeleton with tear-like blue streaks under her eye sockets grunted. Her red inner eye sockets look like they glowed, her blue eye lights shaped like a six pointed stars that surrounded a fuschia dots.

Avallon edged closer, moving past Ink’s unblinking grin. He crouched, tugging gently at the strange rope where it bit between Ink and the glitchy one.

“…H-how?” Avallon whispered, bewildered by the rope’s strange weave.

“IT’s A LoNG stOry, Kid,” the glitchy one muttered.

Accepting that, Avallon reached in, careful not to brush against them too much. He fiddled with the knot, tongue poking from between his teeth in concentration. Finally, with a sharp tug, it loosened and fell slack.

The red-socketed skeleton sighed with relief, scrambling free and brushing at her ribcage.

Avallon barely had a moment to feel relieved before Ink swooped forward and scooped him right off the ground.

“Wha—?!” Avallon hissed in terror, flailing instinctively.

“Ink, be careful!” Artemis snapped, voice sharp with concern.

“how cute~” Ink sing-songed, spinning Avallon slightly like a doll.

Oh stars nonononoputmedownhelphelphelpwhatishappening—

“SQuId, PuT ‘em DoWn.”

Yes, Avallon thought frantically. YES PLEASE.

“aww~” Ink finally relented, dropping him back onto his feet. Avallon stumbled, nearly falling, only to be steadied by Artemis’s gentle hand. Mortified, he yanked his cloak hood lower and shuffled back several steps, cheeks burning bright despite his skeletal face.

He shot Ink a wary glare. What was wrong with this skeleton?!

A deep, smooth chuckle rolled from the goopy one, his voice like silk. “You really need to work on greeting people, Ink.”

“what was wrong with that?” Ink pouted, crossing his arms.

“Y-you can’t just p-pick people u-up!” Avallon sputtered, bristling. He only let Sans, Papyrus, or Dad pick him up! Maybe Aunt Toriel too, but only because her hugs were the best. Who wouldn’t want one of those?

Ink blinked in confusion. “I still don’t see what’s so wrong with hugging new people?”

“D-do you n-not kn-know what b-boundaries are?” Avallon asked, aghast.

Ink tilted his head. “…what do you mean?”

Avallon groaned, burying his face in his hood. “i-is he a-always like th-this?” he asked the others miserably.

“Yes,” Artemis replied without hesitation.

“YeP,” the glitchy one confirmed flatly.

“Unfortunately,” the goopy skeleton sighed.

“M-my condolences,” Avallon muttered.

Snickering came first from the glitchy one, her voice broken like a corrupted audio file, before she suddenly squinted at Avallon.

“wHat’S uP WiTh You, anYwAy? yOu fEeL lIkE an OuTLier.”

Outlier?

Avallon blinked, tilting his head, Crysalith fiddled nervously between his fingers. He supposed being dead and then technically resurrected as an entirely different species might count as… unusual. But how could this stranger feel that about him?

He made a small, confused noise, somewhere between a hum and a questioning chirp.

The goopy skeleton, the one Artemis had called as her brother, shifted his gaze toward him as well, though his tone was far more even. “Curious. They feel normal to me.”

“Same,” Artemis agreed, stepping a little closer, her presence calming rather than invasive. Still, Avallon instinctively shuffled back a fraction, not quite ready to let anyone outside his family within arm’s reach. Thankfully, Artemis seemed to notice and stopped.

“W-what d-do you m-mean by o-outlier?” Avallon asked, voice soft but trembling with curiosity.

The glitchy one crossed her arms, static crackling faintly over her form.

“THey’Re jUsT… stRAngE obJeCtS oR PeOple iN a uNiVErsE. diFfeREnt fROm eVerYThIng eLSe, bUt stILL pARt of iTs nAtUrAl fLOw. PrettY rAre, CoMparEd tO AnOmALiEs, WhiCh arE My jOb to tAke CaRe oF.”

The words were casual, but the way she spat “take care of” made Avallon’s SOUL flutter uneasily. He had the sinking suspicion “take care of” meant… erasure.

“…D-does th-the fact I-I’m a Sh-Shifter mean a-anything?”

Daemon’s head snapped toward him. “WHat?”

“…What?” Avallon blinked right back.

Ink snorted with laughter.

Artemis tilted her head, curiosity bright in her smile. “What do you mean?”

Avallon fidgeted before puffing his chest a little, forcing out the words in one rushed explanation:

“O-oh! I-I d-died o-once as a h-human and k-kind of c-came b-back as a s-skeleton monster,” he chirped, hands on his hips like Papyrus always did when declaring something dramatic. “A-apparently it’s p-possible because I h-had a h-huge magic reserve wh-when I d-died the f-first t-time! S-Sans said it’s a l-longer story but th-that’s the s-simple version.”

There was a pause.

Then, with a jolt, his stomach sank.

Oh stars. His family!

He winced, clutching at his Crysalith. He’d been gone a while now, hadn’t he? Frisk, Chara, and Asriel were probably panicking already. And if they told Sans or Papyrus or, oh no, Dadster, then he’d never be allowed to step foot out alone again. They were already overprotective enough…

“What’s wrong?” Artemis asked gently, snapping him out of his spiral. All four of them were looking at him now.

“…I-I k-kinda j-just healed f-from a p-pretty bad c-cold a w-week a-ago,” Avallon admitted sheepishly, tugging his hood up until it shadowed most of his face. “a-and th-that made m-my family a-and friends… r-really o-overprotective.”

A hand settled lightly on his skull. Avallon froze, panic pricking his chest, until the anxiety ebbed away, seeping out of him like steam dissolving into air.

“…H-huh?” He peeked up from the edge of his cloak hood to see Artemis resting one of her hand gently against his head.

His eyes widened. He wasn’t imagining it.

She was feeding off his emotions.

He jolted in realization. “Y-you’re—!”

Artemis’s laughter, soft and bell-like, broke the moment. “You figured that out quickly.”

Avallon flushed under the praise. If Artemis fed off negative emotions… and her brother fed off the positive… that made sense. They really were siblings.

“i’m more curious about the soul thing,” Ink piped up, leaning against his paintbrush like it was a staff.

“No ONe cARes WHat YoU thINk, SQuid,” Daemon shot back immediately, her voice glitching sharper.

Avallon couldn’t help it, a small rattling giggle slipped out of him at the insult. Ink pouted, crossing his arms, and muttered something about Daemon being a “meanie.” Honestly, Avallon had come up with better comebacks when he was seven.

Still, the warmth of humor didn’t change the fact that he really needed to go.

“…S-so, s-since y-you d-don’t n-need any m-more h-help, I-I’mma g-go,” he stammered, backing toward the trees. “I k-kind of d-ditched my f-friends a-and th-they’ll b-be w-worried.”

Daemon raised a brow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Artemis just smiled a little bit wider. “It was lovely meeting you.”

Avallon gave an awkward little wave and smile in return, before bolting into the forest, cloak fluttering behind him like a pair of wings of purple.

In the near distance, the four children laughed together, their voices carrying faintly across the forest park. None of them noticed the two figures lurking just beyond the glow of the crystals.

“So… we’re further forward in the timeline,” Apollo murmured, arms folded, his tone low and calculating. “It’s rare to encounter a new skeleton other than the usual Sanses, Papyruses, and Gasters.”

“HE’S CReaTed ThO,” Daemon corrected absently, strings twitching at her fingertips. The statement earned him a sharp glance from Apollo.

“…What?”

Apollo narrowed his gaze but let it pass for now. His voice dropped further, silken with suspicion. “Do you know what caused him to be an outlier?”

Daemon’s expression tightened. She frowned, crossing her arms, eye flickering as if sifting through lines of code only she could see.

“…No. BuT It’S DeFiNiTely ReLaTeD tO tHaT SoUL oF HiS,” Daemon admitted at last, her words glitching with static. “It’s NoThiNg ThAt SeEmS TroUbLeSoMe, So I’m nOt WorRiEd iT wiLL EvOLve iNto anyThing DaNgEroUs. If AnyThing, iT’s ProBaBly JusT a QuIrK ThiS AU hAs.” She paused, head tilting as her strings stilled. “…StiLL, iT WouLdN’t Be a BaD idEa tO KeEp aN eYe oN HiM iN tHe fuTurE. JuSt iN CaSe. ThErE’s No HaRm in thAt.”

Apollo hummed softly in thought, shadows curling at the edges of his form. “Hn. How peculiar…”

His gaze lingered on the child in the cloak, the little skeleton clutching his emerald close to his chest, laughing with a brightness that made the surroundings seem warmer.

How curious indeed...