"Remember, talk to no one." The instructions were given to you by the temporary elected chief of the village. He snorted and gave you his familiar smile. "Of course, not that there is anyone left for you to run into."

You replied with a weak smile and strung a leather sack onto your shoulder. You winced at the contact point from where you had been shot only five months ago. So much had changed since then.

So far, you had seen the skeleton twice. Every encounter replayed in your mind over and over again, refusing to stop. Something about him mystified you.

But of course, no one here would ever approve of a relationship between a monster and a human. Not after all the destruction they had caused during the war.

"Be careful!" your younger brother called from across the clearing. You have him a weak wave before hopping onto your motorcycle. Before the war, you and never dreamed of riding one, but they seemed to be the fastest method of transportation.

The goal of this mission was to ransack a CVS for any medicine to treat strep. An outbreak had occurred and the nagging fear it would hit your brother drove you forward. The nearest one far form any monster activity was at a beach a few miles away.

"Human."

A voice seemed to speak from all around you. The bushes rustled with anticipation as a small volcano made its way in front of you. Your heart pounded wildly as its eyes glowed a strange shade of red.

This is a Vulkin, your father's words echoed in your mind. He had been one of the few humans to study the monsters, to learn their weaknesses. If you touched one, your defenses were immediately weakened and you made vulnerable to attacks. He had been in New York City when the first bombs fell.

If you hadn't saved the skeleton, you would have joined him in the massive line of corpses.

Something about this Vulkin was off. It seemed to twitch, fueled by some unknown energy source. "I was running low on determination, but I guess this was my lucky day!" it cackled. Monsters had long since hunted humans for determination, some sort of drug that human souls produced they had become addicted to.

The Vulkin enlarged in size to almost a full-sized volcano. Lava began to stream down its sides and onto the ground, making the forest ablaze with fire. Ash began to stream from its top as it began walking towards you.

It began apparent that you couldn't flee back to the village in fear that the Vulkin would discover the last remnants of the human race in America. You gave the motorcycle a heart kick and you drove down the highway, the Vulkin trailing after you. It seemed to weaken as its larger form required much of the determination required.

A river moved lazily ahead in front of you. You took the risk and drove straight over it. You stopped a safe distance away as the Vulkin lost its footing and tumbled into the water. There's no going back now, you thought to yourself and turned in the direction of the ocean.

Sans had lost the image in his mind of what a human looked like. In his mind, he pictured a pink monster with tufts of hair that stuck out in awkward angles. "What do you think Papyrus?" he asked to the floating head next to him. He had long since lost the jar that carried the dusted remains of his brother. He now found himself spending most of his days along the beach accompanied by a head of Papyrus.

Papyrus' head had multiple cracks along the skull. It gave a sadistic smile to Sans and seemed to nod to a figure walking close by. It entered a building labeled CVS.

Curious, Sans thought to himself and teleported to the two glass doors. Electricity had long since died out, so the doors hung awkwardly by their hinges. The human had proceeded to the back of the store to the pharmacy section, stuffing random bottles of medicine into their pockets.

They stopped at the counter and pocketed several packages of candy into their leather bag before heading out the door, unaware of Sans' presence. They seemed shaken by a recent event today.

"H-Hey," Sans forced his voice out. It was scratched and barely registered as human dialogue. Have I been talking to Papyrus through my head rather than speech, he wondered, looking at the smiling head of his brother feeling slightly chilled.

The human paused and the shrugged, slinging their leather sack over their shoulder. A loud noise filled the vast silence and Sans immediately recognized it as their motorcycle. The sudden glint of their [H/C] caused him to freeze. After all this time?

"STOP!" he yelled, his voice much more audible this time. The human stiffened and slowly turned their head to face him.

"I-I know you..." they stammered.

The skeleton stared at you with a vast curiosity. "I don't think we've had the proper introduction," he winked at you and extended his right hand in greeting. You were about to take it when you noticed the silver band wrapped around it.

"That's a whoopee cushion..." you said accusingly, your eyes narrowed.

"You got me," the skeleton winked and then rubbed his skull anxiously. "I'm Sans, Sans the skeleton."

"That's pretty obvious," you smirked. "I'm [Y/N], [Y/N] the human."

Sans cast an anxious look above him at some unknown figurine. "What are you looking at?" you asked, feeling an odd rush of anxiety pulse off you. How could you think that he was a decent monster? They slaughtered humans, what made him any different?

He saved you during the refugee camp raid, a voice reminded you.

He also helped slaughter everyone else, you countered.

"It's a long story..." Sans have a long sigh.

"I have all day."

After much persistence, Sans finally told you about his brother Papyrus. They used to live in a town underground named Snowdin. Occasionally you would ask him what Frisk was like, but he was always quick on changing the topic. Apparently Papyrus had been gunned down during a human air raid and Sans had kept the ashes.

Since then he had hallucinated the demented head of his brother.

"So he's here right now?" you asked, unsure whether the fact the skeleton was hallucinating was a bad thing.

Sans looked at the same fixed point and then nodded. His eye sockets had lost their friendly light and were pitch black. You decided to lighten the mood.

You grabbed Sans' hand and shook it firmly, wincing as the whoopee cushion released its sound.

"Heh, the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It works every time." The light returned to Sans' eyes. "You've got a lot of work to do," he noticed, staring at the list that was crumpled in your hands.

"I guess you could say it's a SKELE-TON," you snorted. Sans returned with a genuine laugh.

And somewhere, a hallucinated skeleton head screamed.