I'm not dead!! :^)
I'm still kickin and I will see this story through. So yeah! I hope you enjoy chapter 3. If you see typos, please comment on them!

Before he could really process it, he was being pulled towards and onto the ferry by his chain, and the ferry was moving towards Hotland. Papyrus's eyes widened as he realized that Sans was taking him to Toriel. As they stepped off the boat, his master kicked his feet out from under him. He collapsed and quickly forced himself up onto his hands and knees. Sans started to walk again, and Papyrus started to push himself to his feet in order to follow, but Sans pulled on his chain, yanking him back to his knees.

"You will crawl. You are not good enough to walk like a free monster," he growled at him, continuing to walk.

Papyrus bit back a whimper, and, shame filling him, crawled as fast as he could after his master. It was humiliating, even though he knew it was a common practice for slaves like him. He knew no one would stare at him or take notice, but he still didn't want anyone to see. He wanted to turn invisible, or be anywhere else. After what felt like an eternity of moving after Sans on his hands and knees, they were in the throne room. Papyrus's knees hurt from crawling, but he stayed silent.

"Mutt. Tell the Queen what you've done."

Papyrus flinched. He hadn't expected to have to tell her himself. Apparently, his hesitation lasted too long, because he felt a blow come into contact with the top of his skull.

"NOW."

Papyrus made no noise at the hit. He lowered his head more than it already had been and closed his eyes tightly. His voice trembled and cracked as he spoke.

"I-i k.... I k-killed Alphys..."

There were a few moments of deafening silence. Then the temperature in the room rose a few degrees, and he heard the Queen stand up. He heard footsteps, and then suddenly he felt something hard hit his ribs, knocking him over and leaving him splayed out on the floor.

She stepped hard on his rib cage and glared down at him. "I knew your master should have gotten rid of you. Tell me what happened. In detail." She was shaking with rage.

Papyrus avoided her fiery eyes. "M-my master and I-i were at A-alphys' house to t-talk to her... sh-she attacked h-him...
I-i took a sword from the wall a-and killed her with it...
I-i just wanted to p-protect-"

"It was my fight. I did not tell him to intervene. He did this of his own accord." Sans was watching, arms crossed. Papyrus glanced at him and knew he wasn't going to get any help.

"You will be punished for this, Slave. Sans. When we are done here you will chain him up. You will torture him. Make him wish he was dead, and do not feed him. Do not give him a moment of peace between now and when he dusts from starvation."

Sans nodded, shooting a hateful glare at Papyrus. "Of course, my queen."

Papyrus closed his eyes so as to not meet his master's gaze, but they fluttered open when he was grabbed by the neck and pulled roughly up. He looked down to see Toriel holding him up, squeezing his neck tightly. He choked, his magic flow to his skull cut off. He struggled half-heartedly, but knew he wouldn't be getting out of his. A blazing, fiery pain began in his neck, scorching him. It began to sear through the rest of his body. He screamed, but it was more of a pained gargle with the hand still clamped around his cervical vertebrae.

He felt like he was burning from the inside out, and as if fire was licking at his bones. He felt the wetness of tears in his eyes, but they didn't stay long due to the heat. He didn't think it could be any worse, but he was wrong. His whole body was alight with pain, but that burning was completely dwarfed by the feeling that was now encompassing his very soul. He screamed - this time a real, blood-curdling scream - and began to writhe in her grip, seeing with shaky, blurry vision that his soul was clenched tightly in Toriel's free hand. The horrible pain continued for what felt like an eternity, until he was dropped unceremoniously onto the hard floor. He curled up tight, his bones literally smoking.

Toriel stood there silently, staring down at the blackened skeleton below her. He was writhing in pain on the ground, bits of charred bone being rubbed off as he moved around. The parts of his body that were not blackened were raw, bleeding out some sort of watery magic. They looked sticky. The only thing that remained of his clothing was his leather collar.

"Get out of my sight. Both of you. Sans, a punishment will be worked out for you as well. You do own him, so you must take some fault."

Sans growled out a "Yes, my Queen."

He grabbed Papyrus's chain and yanked it. Papyrus did not have the strength to follow, and was dragged after him. Sans allowed this, since Papyrus wasn't heavy. As he was dragged across the floor, bits of blackened bone rubbed off him. When they reached hotland, the stones felt like hot coals against Papyrus's body. He was overheated and in pain, and just wanted to lose consciousness. After a ferry ride that managed to spash some water onto Papyrus's body, they were in Snowdin. As soon as he felt the cool of the snow, he sank into it gratefully. Sans stopped at this point.

"You will crawl. I will not drag you any further."

Papyrus didn't respond at first, but then he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, trembling from the exertion. All the way to their house he crawled, the cool air giving him such relief from the continuous burning. They stopped outside the back room of the house and Sans unlocked it. Papyrus was kicked inside, and remained motionless on the floor where he'd landed.

"You heard the queen's plan for you. Anything to say, Mutt?"

"...i-i'm sorry..."

"I don't give a shit if you're sorry. It won't save you from hell."

Papyrus already knew that. He was soon left on the floor of the room. He felt like crying, but he didn't have the energy. He laid there motionless for the first few minutes and then, slowly and shakily, he brought a charred hand to his chest and summoned his soul into it. The extent of the damage to it was no surprise. It looked exactly how he felt. Bits and pieces were chipped off, and there was a crack down the middle. It was smaller than it had been before, and the places where its light glowed through its burnt surface were dimmed substantially. It trembled in his hold. Sickened by it, by himself, he let it disappear back into his chest. He should be dead. With his measly single hit point, he shouldn't have survived this long.

The only reason he'd lived was because the people in his life wanted to see him in pain. Not to kill him. They'd avoided killing him so that he could suffer more.

The only purpose for his life was to suffer, and to be in pain. He'd known that for a while, but now, in the dark silence of the back room, it was all he could think about.

After a while, for some reason, the need to cry was gone. He didn't feel much. He'd never thought it'd be such a relief not to feel. He didn't really care anymore. All he had to do was let Sans do his thing for as long as it took, and then it would all be gone. All he had to do was take pain. He was almost done... almost-

His thoughts were cut off as Sans slammed the door open and stomped in, flicking the lights on and illuminating the room. Papyrus closed his eyes against the bright light and went as limp as he could. He was grabbed and roughly yanked up to a kneeling position. His wrists were cuffed and he was hung against the wall with them above his head. His naked, blackened body trembled in something akin to fear, but in his mind he couldn't bring himself to care. This was just a last bump in his life before he could finally rest. He didn't feel the terror his body was displaying.

There was a work bench nearby where he hung, with all sorts of metal instruments on it. Papyrus didn't know specifically what they were for but he'd heard screams from this room on the occasion that Sans had to make someone talk. He didn't dwell much on that, just stared blankly at each tool, since there wasn't much else to look at. He didn't really notice the movement in front of him, but was soon aware of pain. It kept up for a long time. He knew he was reacting to it, but the weak cries he was making were dull and fuzzy in this strange state he was in. Almost as if they were someone else's noises of pain, and not his.

This continued for a long time before Sans left, flicking off the light and leaving Papyrus wounded, hanging in the darkness. He slipped in and out of consciousness, not really aware of the passage of time. This continued for what he vaguely guessed was several days. Sans would come, there would be pain for a long time, and then he would leave. As each day passed he felt a more insistent pain in his stomach area. He knew he was hungry. He knew he'd get no food.
Days blurred past and the pain kept getting sharper, eventually feeling like a stabbing in his gut. He couldn't focus on anything else, but he didn't really care. He knew that death would not be long, now. His wait was almost over. He couldn't move anymore, and his cries were fewer and farther between. When he did cry out it was a dry, weak, and choppy sound that didn't last long. A few more days passed. He could feel it approaching, now. It wouldn't be long. He wished it would speed up. It couldn't be more than a day away. He couldn't move anymore. Not that he wanted to.

He was fine with it. His eyes were closed. They had been for a long time and it slowly occured to him that he couldn't open them. That was fine.

- - -

Sans was fed up with having to go to Papyrus every day. His workload hadn't changed, but now he had to think about setting time aside to torture that dumbass and also get his work done. He swore that everything Papyrus did was to hold him back. The sessions in the back room were no fun anymore. The idiot had stopped reacting. All that was really left to do was wait for him to die.

As he ate his breakfast one morning, he decided not to go in to him. It was just boring now. He headed out to a morning patrol instead.

Half-way through it, however, he felt a twinge in his soul. It was something frantic and pounding. He'd noticed it in the days before, before but had always been able to ignore it. Now, however, it was more intense. He gripped his chest as the feeling grew. It took a few minutes for him to realize what it was, but as soon as he did it jolted him into action. He went sprinting back towards town, gulping and feeling a tightness in his throat.

"O-oh, fuck, shit... what have I d-done, what have I done... P-please don't be dead..." What had he done?

He burst into the back room, the light from outside enough for him to see that it was empty. There was a small pile of dust on the ground below the shackles, and on top of that lay the collar. Sans stumbled closer to the pile, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He dropped to his knees next to it. It was so small... as tall as Papyrus had been, he hadn't had much to him.

He picked up the collar and stared at it, before thrusting it away from himself in disgust. It went skittering into the darkness. Sans fell against the wall, something like a sob ripping out from his throat. He gritted his teeth, but no more than five seconds later he was covering his face, trembling intensely. He felt his tears gathering and wetting his hands and cheeks. His whole body shook as he wept, not really caring that he was crying loudly with the door left open.

If someone would come and kill him, then let them. Papyrus was dead and he'd been the one to do it.

"I-i'm so sorry...."

-  -  -

:^(
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