WARNING! This chapter contains VIOLENCE and EXTREME LANGUAGE. This chapter is primarily a FIGHT SCENE and thus will contain stronger content than normal.

To those of you who want to avoid this kind of content, I've posted a chapter summary at the very bottom, under the authors note. Jump down there if you don't want the full chapter.  

And please, I implore you, keep the comment section RELATIVELY clean. I know this chapter is going to induce rage, and it's meant to be intense, but I'm asking you to keep the comments civil and keep the "yelling" to a minimum. Just... I don't know... start a discussion rather than a war? There's only so much character hate I can take before I start to get annoyed while reading through the comments.

ANYWAY on with the chapter! Remember, there will be violence, there will be strong language and please, keep the comment section uh... civil-ish.

Once the firework show finished just after midnight, the main part of the event was over. No longer needed, you and the others on the stage began filing off, Sans' hand still tangled in yours. Despite the crowd, he didn't seem to want to let go, and neither did you. A small smile was pinned to your face, a light blush covering your cheeks. Even though you were tired you were giddy and full of energy, and not because of the festivities.

You'd done it, you'd finally crossed the line with Sans. And, to make things even sweeter, he seemed to feel similar if not the same about you. You risked a glance at him, and saw him looking at with a dazed kind of smile. Almost like he couldn't believe this was real. You almost couldn't either, but you knew it was because of the way you felt like melting. No way that strong a feeling could be faked.

Somehow when exiting the stage the two of you ended up closer to the back of the pack, and thus when you got backstage the rest of the gang was already gathered together. They all looked excited and happy, Papyrus talking animatedly with Frisk, but paused to wave when he spotted the two of you. Though Papyrus didn't notice your obvious closeness, an unwanted thought entered your mind. What if Sans didn't want to be seen with you by others? Didn't want to go public? Even though nothing about Sans even came close to Bitchell, you couldn't help the old worries that nagged at the back of your mind where you shoved them. Chewing your bottom lip, you gently tried to extract your hand from his grip. Sans immediately took notice, and tightened his grip on your hand, refusing to let go.

"something wrong?" He asked quietly, only loud enough for you to hear over the excited din of the post-performance crowd. His brow was furrowed in that weird way of theirs, eyes a little concerned.

"You sure you want people to see us together?" You whispered back, nervously fidgeting with your scarf. Old habits died hard, and you were just too used to having to hide your romantic relationships. "So soon?"

Sans looked taken aback for a moment, but his worry was quickly replaced by an easy and lazy smile. "let them see. this has been a long time coming and i don't care who knows it."

And back to a puddle of putty you went. Feeling ridiculously warm and content, you couldn't keep the smile off your face as you finally made it to your friends. Quickly assimilating you into the group, you were surrounded by your friends who were quick to congratulate on a job well done.

"A GREAT PERFORMANCE (y/n)! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE LITTLE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT!" Papyrus happily declared, giving you a hearty smack on the back and nearly sending you toppling into Undyne. Luckily Sans was able to keep you steady and quickly reeled you back to his side. Mettaton, in true Mettaton fashion, noticed the action almost immediately. His eyes brightened and for a second you thought he might short circuit as lights danced in his eyes.

Ever the over dramatic cheerleader, he let out this high pitched metallic noise before throwing his arms around you in a crushing hug. You let out a shaky laugh, watching as the others monsters watched his outburst curiously while giving Mettaton a one handed hug. When he pulled back with a grin you gave him a suddenly nervous smile. "Darling finally! It's about time one of you made a move. We've had to simply suffer through you dancing around each other for weeks!"

Several eyebrows in the grow raised as realization started to dawn. You blushed under their gazes, their congrats turning from the show to your relationship status.

As Frisk clapped happily and ran to give Sans a hug, Undyne put a hand on your head and rubbed hard enough to border on vicious. "It's about TIME!" Alphys then let out a happy squee, stuttering something about her ship finally sailing while you struggled under Undyne fist.

"I'm so happy for you, my child." Toriel said, sounding like a proud mother as she saved you from Undyne's hand and pulled you into a warm hug. She then gave Sans a brief hug before moving to stand beside Frisk. You spared a glance towards Sans, and saw that though he looked embarrassed, he also looked extremely happy.

"NYEH HEH HEH! DOES THIS MEAN YOU TWO ARE... *GASP!* DATING?!" Papyrus said, barely giving either of you a chance to answer before coming to his own decision. "THAT'S WONDERFUL! YOU FINALLY FOUND SOMEONE WHO CAN PUT UP WITH YOUR TERRIBLE PUNS SANS!"

"i guess i should stick to her then." Sans grinned, taking a step towards you and letting go of your hand only to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you close. Stick to you indeed. You giggled, much to Papyrus' dismay, and slid your own arm around Sans' back. Instead of just putting your hand on his waist though, you reached around him until you could comfortably put your hand in his jacket pocket. He seemed satisfied with this, pushing his free hand into the same pocket to wrap his fingers through yours, and you couldn't help but feel giddy as to how affectionate he was already being. It just felt... right, to be this close to him. To rest your cheek against his skull and just... be. It felt so good to be completely sure of where you stood with him, not hiding anything or questioning every action.

"DAMNIT! You two are just SO sickeningly SWEET!" Undyne all but groaned. You grinned at her, and watched as she grabbed Alphys around her shoulders to rest her own head on the scientists. Even though you knew she was just competing with you in her own way, they were pretty darn cute too.

"U-Undyne!" Alphys blushed, even though she seemed really pleased.

"Ug, you're all gross in my opinion." Flowey suddenly sneered, glaring at you from Frisk's hold. "Can we go now?"

"Flowey..." Toriel warned, giving him a look. He crinkled his "nose" but didn't say anything more. Frisk suddenly let out a yawn, but the shook her head like she was determined to stay awake. "I suppose it is getting rather late." Toriel sighed, reaching down to ruffle Frisk's hair.

"Shall we head home then?" Asgore suggested, sweeping Frisk into his arms so she could rest against his shoulder. And by home, they meant Tori's house, as you all planned to spend the night there and have a lazy morning tomorrow.

"I think we can leave now." You answered, lifting your head and looking towards Mettaton.

"Most assuredly! Our job is done for the evening." Mettaton smiled before turning to lead the way out of the stage area. As you started to move, Sans slid his hand around you back, taking your hand back in his so it was easier to move around.

"Oh wait!" You said suddenly. "I have to go change and grab my stuff."

"Oh of course! I forgot you're not allowed to take your outfit with you." Mettaton gasped, then waved a shooing hand towards you. "Go, go!"

"Why don't we wait near the exit?" Toriel suggested. "No need to crowd around her dressing room while she changes." She then directed a pointed look towards Sans, who simply gave her a sheepish smile.

"It'll just take me a second Sans," you assured him, using your hand to urge him after the rest of the group.

"you sure?" He asked, and when you nodded he slowly released your hand and watched as you took a step away from him.

You felt the absence of the contact immediately, but instead of stepping back towards him you smiled and said, "Besides, I don't think they'd let non-performers to the dressing room area anyway."

When he nodded you turned your back and headed away, ignoring the urge to just turn back towards him and apologize later for taking your outfit with you. Leaving him now felt weird, and wrong. Like without him you were alone and that alone something bad would happen. Shaking off the odd feeling crawling up your back, you pushed your way into the dressing room and headed straight for the mirror. Sitting atop the vanities table was your neatly folded clothes, the ones you wore to the rehearsal the day before. Your phone vibrated from where you left it before the concert, but as you turned to grab it something shifted in the mirror, stealing your attention.

Violence and swearing ahead. Don't say I didn't warn you.

With a sharp gasp, you whirled around, recognizing the face behind you with a splash of chilling fear down your spine.

"Don't scream," Mitchell snarled, coming out from the shadows he lurked in. "You'll only make this worse for yourself."

You considered defying him, to let out a screech in hopes someone would come. But you found your mouth sealed shut, panic worming into your heart as a black gun gleamed in his hand. How did he get his hand on a gun? Was he going to shoot you? Damnit why couldn't he just stay out of your life! And why now? Things had finally been looking up for you! Determination and defiance flared to life in your heart, replacing the fear. You weren't going to let him get the better of you. Not this time. Not ever again!

"What do you want?" You asked, injecting a good dose of venom into your voice.

Mitchell let out a chilling laugh. "Well look who finally grew a f*cking backbone. Little late for that sweetheart."

"Don't call me that." You snapped, finally giving him a quick once over. He looked disheveled, his clothes rumpled and dingy, a look in his eyes you could only describe as mad.

"To bad sweetheart, you don't have much of a say. Now grab your stuff, and come with me quietly."

"You're kidnapping me?" You said, trying to keep your voice even in your disbelief. "You're already wanted for robbery and assault."

"Call it what you will, but you are coming with me."

You bit the inside of your lip, not dignifying him with an answer. You refused to show fear, even though you knew your life was probably on the line. You glanced between the gun clenched in his right hand, the door, and your phone, debating the best course of action. If you ran for the door, would he shoot you? Should you try to rush him and try to disarm him, even though you had no idea how? Should you dive for your phone, hoping he wasn't desperate enough to shoot? If you could hit anyone of your speed dial numbers, you could call for help. They all led to someone who knew where you were, who could call the police. Who could help. Mitchell must have read the calculating gleam in your eyes as you watched the door, and shifted towards it, blocking your only exit. Narrowing your eyes, you shifted too. Away from him. Away from the gun.

"This isn't a game, sweetheart." Mitchell growled, pulling the hammer of the pistol into place with a click. Dread traveled down your spine, but you weren't about to surrender.

"I'm not changing in front of you." You snapped, trying to gauge the distance between you and your phone again from you periferal.

"You don't have a choice." He sneered, and when you didn't move, added a commanding "Now."

You still refused to move at first, not willing to give him the satisfaction, but slowly you turned around, reaching for the ends of your scarf. You didn't want to give the bastard an inch, but you didn't want to be shot either. You knew he was capable of violence, but how far he was willing to go you didn't quite understand yet. Once your scarf was off you tore the ear muffs from your head, throwing them to the floor. Your gloves were the next to join them, followed by the stars tracing across your cheek bones. When you reached for the hem of your shirt, you paused.

"Why?" You bit out through clenched teeth, looking down at the counter just to your left, searching for something you could use. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why?" Mitchell snickered evilly, his eyes drilling into the back of your head. "You want to know why? Because you wouldn't stay f*cking complacent. Because you had to go and make new 'friends' and decide you'd rather be with freaks like them. Because you decided you didn't want to do your job and be happy about it while I did mine. You screwed everything, and now I'm going to make it right."

"By kidnapping me? By killing me simply because I got tired of your BS?"

"My BS? What about yours? You're the one who decided to get all cozy with those disgusting creatures." Your back stiffened at his words, tongue aching at the verbal lashing you wanted to deal him. But it seemed he wasn't done yet. "If anything, this is your fault. You're the one who started making goo-goo eyes at that scum. What do you see in that piece of sh!t anyway?"

"He isn't scum!" You screeched, whirling around to face Mitchell again. You'd had it. All the anger and rage that had been simmering towards him burst to the surface, exploding in a powerful wave that snapped something within you. "None of them are! They are the most kind, welcoming people I have ever met, and nothing you've ever done comes close to comparing to them! There's only one disgusting creature I see right now, and if you're too stupid to pick you on my meaning, it's you!"

At your words his face contorted into an ugly mask of rage, sparking fear in your angry interior. It was quickly squashed by that same anger, and you stood your ground as he stalked forwards. Diving to the side you attempted to skirt around him, to get to the door, but Mitchell was just a smidgen faster. He grabbed a lock of your hair, pulling you hard towards him and causing you to cry out in pain. Groping at the table behind you, you closed your fist around the first thing you could and swung. The perfume bottle smashed against Mitchell's temple, causing him to holler in pain as the cap pops off and sprays the sickeningly sweet perfume into his eyes. He let go of your hair, and you latch onto his wrist, wrestling the gun free from his hand.

His other hand came out of nowhere, backhanding you across the face and sending you sprawling. The gun flies from your hand, skittering across the floor only to stop in the corner across from you. Pain explodes across your already injured cheek, blood bursting in your mouth as your teeth cut your cheek. You hit the ground hard, but immediately begin scrambling for your phone. If you could just reach it where it sat on the beanbag chair...

Mitchell was on you in a second, grabbing at your legs and pulling you back towards him. You struggled and kicked, wiggling like a snake in your desperation to get away. But Mitchell's grip was too tight, your aim falling short. He wormed his way over you, straddling your hips and pinning you to the floor by your throat. You attempted to scream, the cry cutting off when he pressed his hand over your mouth. You coughed as he tightened his one handed grip on your throat, desperation adding into the rage. You bit down on his hand hard, as hard as you could. Hard enough to draw blood. Mitchell cried out, releasing your mouth before snarling at you.

"You little b!tch!" He growled, picking your head up by your throat and slamming it back onto the ground. You yelp as stars danced behind your eyes, gasping a little as he began to cut off your air supply. Reacting on instinct you pulled your hands up and pushed at his face, trying to push him away from you. When that didn't work you turned your hands on his temples, digging your thumbs into his eyes. He bellowed, releasing your throat enough for you to drag in a deep breath of air. When your vision stopped swimming you began pulling and kicking away, reaching desperately for your phone. He was strong. Too strong. You weren't going to be able to get through this on your own. He was going to kill you if he couldn't take you, you knew he was capable of it.

Mitchell recovered faster than you would have liked, and once again he had your hair seized between his fingers. You screeched and dug your fingers into his, trying to pry them free. "You going to pay for that," he snarled into your ear, pulling you back with him as he stood, dragging you into a sitting position forcefully. He repositioned you, wrapping an arm under your shoulder and grabbing your chin in a vice like, painful grip. You redoubled your efforts to get free, sliding your feet against the floor in an effort to get away despite the biting pain in your jaw. Something glinted in the corner of your eye, and you watched in horror as he pulled a slender syringe from one of his pockets, the glass filled with some sort of clear liquid. He uncapped it using his teeth, preparing to plunge somewhere in skin. You stopped fighting, instead choosing to go completely limp. Mitchell swore and stumbled under your deadweight, struggling to keep you upright. You used the moments struggle to your advantage, grabbing the wrist that held the needle to twist it down. The pointed tip stabs into his thigh, but before you could push the plunger and give him a literal dose of his own medicine, he pushes you away with another sharp curse.

Hand still around the syringe, it came free from his thigh, following you to the ground. You landed hard on your tail bone, pain shooting through your back and hands flying out to stop you. The syringe went flying, shattering against the floor somewhere off to the side, useless. Why couldn't you seem to keep a hold on things when you fell?

For a second all you could do was sit in stunned disbelief, realizing with sudden clarity that you weren't going to be able to fight your way out of this. He brought a gun, he had tried to drug you! He wasn't going to just stop because you were fighting back, and that scared the sh!t out of you. Suddenly it all became too much. You couldn't do this on your own. You needed help, you wanted someone to save you! You wanted your friends, and most of all you wanted Sans! But you realized none of them would even know something was wrong unless you got some sort of message out. You needed to do at least that much, and until then you weren't going to give up, or give in.

Pushing past your pain and discomfort, you spun and scurried towards the beanbag chair; to your phone. Adrenaline was roaring through your blood, pushing you to continue, pushing you to be victorious in any way. Even if it meant calling for help. But Mitchell seemed just as determined to succeed in his twisted quest as you were to escape. He grabbed at your ankle, but with your free foot you managed to land a solid kick to his face. His nose crunched and blood spurted from nostrils, and you had a brief moment to escape as he hollered. This time you managed to snag your phone. With shaking fingers and eyes blinded by frustrated tears, you hastily try to punch in any of the speed dial numbers, swiping away the text messages that blinked on the screen. Before you get the change, the phone starts to buzz and ring in your hands. With a cry of startled hope, you hit the call button, recognizing the name displayed brightly even through your watery vision.

"Hello, my child? This is Toriel. Not to rush you but..."

"Please! Toriel help me please!" You half sob, half scream, cutting her off. Mitchell wasn't going to stop. You knew that. Without help you probably weren't going to get out of this room conscious... maybe even alive.

"(y/n)? Child what's wrong?" Toriel asked, startled concern bleeding into her gentle voice.

"Mitch–" Your sobbing plea cuts off in a cry of pain as Mitchell grabs you hair again, wrenching your head back as his other hand grabbed your phone. You can hear Toriel's muffled voice through his fingers, but you were concentrating on desperately clinging to the metal and glass like a lifeline. You couldn't let him cut you off. With another strangled sob ripping free from your throat, Mitchell tears the phone from your hand, throwing it against the wall where the screen cracks before it clatters to the floor. Delivering a swift punch to your jaw, your lip splits and you crash to the floor. But Mitchell isn't done yet. With a swift movement, he kicks you in the ribs, knocking the wind from your lungs and sending pain flooding through your system. For a moment, all you can do is sputter and gasp, stars bursting at the corners of your vision. Mitchell sneers down at you, eyes filled with hate and disgust.

Vaguely you can hear Toriel's panicked cries through the broken phone, followed by the voices of your friends loudly asking what was wrong, where you were. You want to call out to them, beg them for help, but all you can see is Mitchell, and all you can do is try to breath through the pain in your stomach. He pulls something else out of his pocket, another syringe, this one filled with a sick purple colour, and your eyes widened in fear.

"I was going to save this for that... monster of yours... but it should work well enough on you. You should have just come quietly (y/n). I was hoping to keep you alive... but it was never a priority. You simply provided a nice little bank for me to use in order to fund my little projects. I suppose I should be thankful I got the amount I did from you. This does make it more difficult though, since I'll have to find a new source of income." He says, jabbing the needle into the flesh of your arm. You shudder, unable to do anything but watch as you try pointlessly to move. You feebly try to push him back, but it's no use. Without air, your arms had turned to tingling putty. A sharp pain pricks your skin, followed by a foreign warmth that spreads from the point of entry to the tips of your fingers then up to your shoulder and into your chest. The heat seems to pool there, suddenly making it even harder to breath as something seemed to grip the very center of your being.

"What did you do?" You gasp as you finally catch your breath a little, vision blurring and a ringing flooding your ears as the warmth spread to your head. Your fingers go numb, and the warmth is spreading down your stomach, over your hips, into your legs. Something was so terribly wrong.

"Like that, do you? Just a little something special I cooked up in the lab."

"What?" You coughed in disbelief, trying to take deep breaths even though it feels like a weight is pushing down on your ribs. The center of your chest begins to hurt, like whatever's in you is now squeezing your center painfully.

"You know it's funny really, how willing you were to believe I was doing good in London. Trying to find a cure for incurable illnesses and cancer." Mitchell answered, leading into what you could only call a monologue. "You were just so desperate to only see the good in me. Sometimes it was hard to keep from laughing." He turned away from you, heading towards the gun. "You want to know what I was working on before those things came to the surface? Biological warfare. But when those freaks were set free, the goals of my little organization radically changed. Fighting humans could wait. We needed to get rid of them. Why should we have to share this planet with anything? Especially something as disgusting as them." Gun now palmed in one hand, he turns back to you as you desperately try to concentrate. It was starting to feel like you were submerged in water, the pain in your chest growing more acute and unbearable.

Through the pain and discomfort, hate shredded through you. He was disgusting. Biological warfare? How could he! He was the true scum of the earth, and suddenly you were struck by how terrible humans could be. To each other, and to those perceived as different. Something shuddered deep inside you, causing you to gasp. Something started to shrivel inside you, and you heart began to skip in kind as it tried to keep the toxic blood pumping through your system, struggling to keep you alive. You wanted to say something, to curse and yell profanities at him, but all your could do was gasp in short breaths. But Mitchell wasn't done yet, and all you could do was listen.

"So I was told to start working on something. A poison. A special poison for those monsters. Something that could kill them all." Mitchell smiled, looking at the gun in his hands, seeming distracted but completely lucid. He looked back at you, a look in his eyes you could only describe as evil. He crossed the distance between you, kneeling down right in front of your face. "You can feel it now, can't you? Something shriveling and dying inside you." He leaned closer, drilling his chilling gaze into your fuzzy one. "Well sweetheart, that's your soul. Cracking under the pressure as the poison attacks it from all fronts. See, normal poison doesn't affect them the same way. Takes longer, if it works at all. But through our experiments, we learned that their souls are their everything. Kill that, kill them. And just so you know... the only reason I'm telling you all this is because you won't be around to reveal my dirty little agenda."

You try to turn your head away, try to close your eyes. You couldn't listen anymore, not to this, not to him. You couldn't believe this whole time he'd been plotting the death of your friends. You knew he hated monsters, but you didn't know how deep that hatred went. How far he was willing to go.

"(y/n)?" Mettaton's panicked voice suddenly cuts through the speaker of your phone, interrupting Mitchell's rant and your struggle. "Can you hear me? Papyrus shush I'm trying to... yes the call is still connected! (y/n) hold tight, alright darling? We're on our way so just hold on! Don't give that b@astard an inch!"

"Mettaton," you strain to say, voice coming out a bare whisper. Mitchell sneers in disgust, watching as you weakly try to pull yourself to the phone. It hurts, everything hurt, but still you try to push past the foreign feeling and just move. You need to warn them! Mitchell pushes himself back to his feet, walking over to the phone as Mettaton continues to try to assure and encourage you. With a face set in grim satisfaction, Mitchell crushes your phone under his boot, butting off the call forever. You shudder and whimper in pain and hopelessness, barely aware that tears are streaming from your eyes as you lay against the floor. You muscles spasm as they reject the poison, trying to relax as they simultaneously tense. As you struggled to breath, the air in the room shifted, turning from Mitchell's unsettling satisfaction to unbridled rage.

"get away from her," his voice cut through the silence, "or you're going to have a bad time."

Mitchell swore and spun around, lifting his gun to take aim at the monster now standing in the corner of the room. You tried to speak, tried to warn him of the poison and gun, but your lips wouldn't move, your mouth suddenly dry. You felt so far away, like you were watching everything from a great distance. Unable to move, you watched as Sans flung his hand out just as Mitchell pulled the trigger. The gunshot sounded far away, but through your fuzzy vision you watched Sans duck to the side faster than you thought he could move. Sans flicked his wrist, and suddenly there were bones all around Mitchell, slamming into him from multiple angles. Another flick and the bones were gone, and suddenly Mitchell was thrown off his feet, slamming into the wall behind him. The mirror shattered, but Sans wasn't done. He wasn't giving Mitchell an inch. He slammed Mitchell to the floor, and at that moment the door to the room was kicked off it's hinges. Undyne charged in with a battle cry that normally would have defended you, tackling a struggling Mitchell back to the floor where he belonged. Asgore, Papyrus and Mettaton were the next ones to push into the room, Asgore moving to Undyne's side to aid in apprehending Mitchell, while Papyrus went to Sans in order to try to calm him down. Sans shook in rage, hand still extended in front of him, but you knew if anyone could reach him is was Papyrus. Mattaton rushed to your side, gently rolling you to your back as he yelled for Toriel. Toriel rushed into the room, immediately kneeling beside you and pressing a gentle paw against your forehead.

At this point, you could hardly hear what she was murmuring to you, the pain in your chest growing unbearable. Yet despite the pain you felt completely still, like you arms and legs were no longer attached to your torso. Toriel gently tapped you cheeks, trying to keep you conscious. You tried, you really did, but your body just wasn't cooperating. It felt like you were locked in your mind, trapped behind a wall of pain as you tucked into yourself as if doing so could keep you safe. Mettaton desperately yelled something, and suddenly you felt your head tilting, someone lifting it from the floor and placing it into their lap. For a moment all you could focus on was the bright blue and yellow flashing in a dark socket and the sight tugged at your mind as the blue faded to two whites spots, dimmed by worry and fear. You latched onto the blurry sight, forcing yourself to focus through the pain. Sans was you anchor, and you desperately tried to cling to him. His face swam into a dull focus, your ears clearing just a little, enough so you could hear what he was saying.

"that's it baby, come on, come back to me. you can't leave me like this." He was whispering, smoothing a hand through your hair as the other rested on your cheek. No, he wasn't whispering... it just sounded like he was. "you have to hold on okay, Tori's doing everything she can." You tried to smile, tried to reassure him, but it your mouth just didn't seem to want to move. You felt yourself slipping again, and grasped at the strings holding you conscious. It was a losing battle. "what's taking so long?" Sans said desperately, tearing his eyes from yours.

"I'm trying my best Sans!" Toriel's snapped, sounding more stressed than you'd ever heard her. You could feel your hands on your chest, one at the bottom of your ribs and the other on your collar bones. But the feeling was slight, more like the pressure of a gentle breeze against your skin. "I've never come across anything like this! I don't... I don't know if I can do anything."

"What did you do you b@stard!" Mettaton yelled, once again sounding distant. It was like you were in an ocean, being dragged back and forth in the tide. The weight on your chest had steadily begun increasing, and now it was hard to breath. You closed your eyes, only realizing you'd done so because Sans started smacking your cheek slightly, refusing to stop, hard enough to get your attention but not enough to hurt. You forced your eyes to open, once again focusing on him as best you could. He seemed relieved, but there was something under that. Fear.

He turned away all too soon, saying something to Toriel that you couldn't quite catch. You could faintly hear something about a hospital... someone telling someone else to take you to a hospital perhaps. You felt a shift in the air, a dip in your stomach, and suddenly you were staring up at the bright florescent lights of a sterile hall, cradled in his lap.

"please, you have to help her! please!" You heard Sans begged, voice ragged and breaking. A commotion sounded around you, but all you focused on was Sans. As he brushed the hair from your forehead, a realization struck you. You were dying, you could feel it. Right in your very soul like Mitchell said. You doubted there was anything the doctors could do. Souls weren't medicine... they were magic. And whatever power your soul held was sputtering out. Tears sprung to your eyes, and you knew and Sans could feel it too based on the panic stricken look that crossed his face. He said something to you, tapped your cheeks again, and all you could do was stare, memorizing the lines and planes of his face. You traced his cheekbones with you weakened gaze, the curve of his jaw. You wished he was smiling, because you knew that was the last thing you wanted to see. But he looked so sad, so desperate. You didn't want him to look like that. You didn't want to be the cause of that pain in his eyes.

"come on baby, hold on. you're stronger than this, i know you are!" he all but whimpers, and as your eyes traced back up to his eyes you realized he's crying. You wanted to sooth his tears, but you couldn't move. So you held on, you latched onto your will to live and refused to let go. Just like he said you could. Suddenly, faintly, there were arms on your body. Lifting you up, placing you on soft surface. Sans stood up with them, hand clutching at yours. Then you were moving, rushing through the halls as lights passed overhead. You kept your eyes on Sans, wishing you could speak. Wishing you could say anything. Everything that mattered. Wishing he would smile. You didn't want him to be sad. You wanted...

You wanted to stay.

You desperately wanted to stay. You didn't want to die, you didn't want to leave him. Determination filled you, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to stay but it withered under the poison. You wanted to stay with him! You hadn't even... you hadn't even told him how you felt. He needed to know. You needed to tell him. Flicking your eyes down to him, you tried to force your lips to move. For you voice to produce sound other than pitiful whimpers. You breathed something out, your lips barely twitching. Even as he ran alongside you, he must have been able to tell you were trying to speak, because he pulled himself closer.

"Sir you need to wait here." One of the nurses said from far away.

"no! i'm staying with her." Sans snapped, turning his agonized gaze back to you.

"You need to let us do our job." The nurse insisted. After a hesitant moment that seemed to stretch on forever, Sans finally let go, slowing down as you hand slipped from his. Your anchor, the only thing tethering you to reality slipped away. You wanted to scream, you wanted to beg from him to stay with you. But you couldn't.

As regret for not being able to say every word that bubbled into your mind right then swept over you, a dark void crept up and swept you into the abyss.

Phew, what a chapter huh? 6100 words not including the author's notes! A new record I think.

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(Please don't hate me)

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I suppose I'll finish this off by saying I've hit my stride again. I'm pumping out chapters like a beast, so for now I'll be able to go back to my weekly updating like when I first started this little fanfic. Next update will be Saturday the 11th!

Author... out!

Here is the clean, quick, chapter summary with all the important plot points and none of the violence.

After the concert, the group heads backstage to regroup and head home. For the most part Sans sticks by (y/n)'s side, making it obvious to the other monsters in their immediate group the state of their relationship. (y/n) splits away from the group in order to change back into her every day clothes, returning to her changing room alone. 

There, in the room, Mitchell re-appears. He has a gun, and threatens (y/n). If she doesn't go with him, and call off the police, he'll kill her or her new friends. His motive seems to be the fact that (y/n) is now friends with monsters, a group he vehemently despises. (y/n) refuses to comply with his demands, defending her friends, and makes a run for the door. A fight ensues, and (y/n) gets injured in the process, but manages to knock away Mitchell's gun. Mitchell pulls out a syringe full of some sort of drug to knock her out, but (y/n) manages to get away and break the vial in the process. They fight more, and (y/n) realizes she can't win on her own, and goes for her phone. Before she can hit any of the speed dial buttons, Toriel calls her. In desperation (y/n) answers and calls for help, but Mitchell is on her again and knocks the phone away. He jabs her thigh with a syringe, and injects her with some unknown substance. 

Mitchell reveals the that the substance is a poison he developed in the lab meant to kill monsters by attacking the soul. While not as effective on humans, it still works, and slowly starts to kill (y/n). Its then that Sans appears, throwing Mitchell against the wall before slamming him into the floor. The other monsters burst into the room, Undyne and Asgore pinning Mitchell to the floor. Sans, Toriel and Alphys rush to (y/n)'s side, and Sans transports her to the hospital, seeking help.