Sans' P.o.v

Flipping my fur-lined hood up to conceal my stony expression, I slouch down in the passenger seat of Mettaton's shiny pink convertible. The rubber soles of my slippers sink an inch deep into black velvet flooring.

Thrusting slightly trembling hands within the cushioned prisons of my pockets, I stare blankly ahead of me at a darkened electric dashboard.

All I can think of is how I don't want to be here. I don't want to see the kid right now. I can't muster the courage needed to face her.

What could I say? How should I act? Without confessing the whole truth, no cutting corners, she won't understand.

I don't plan on explaining the concept of timelines to her, either. I can't. Combing through more than 300 timelines worth of memories? That'll take too long. Plus, what if the timeline resets? She'll forget all of what I tell her.

Aside from that, I have a bigger problem... One impossible to ignore.

Everytime I happened to glance at her, stealing glimpses of friendly concern shimmering like twin pools of melted caramel, I was painfully reminded. Of how, for just a brief moment, those eyes lost their shine. And, I'm the skeleton to blame.

Again...

Yeah, sure, Chara was partially responsible. If it wasn't for her possessing Frisk while she was vulnerable, I wouldn't have been driven to such drastic lengths to begin with.

Then again, Frisk never would have become the demon's target had I have kept an eyesocket open for her. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings.

I was careless and she was the one to suffer the consequences.

My own words repeat in my head. Searing themselves unto my consciousness. Reflecting current regret.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I failed you again."

Directly behind me, my bro has found something to pass the time until the obnoxious walking tincan's return.

He's a bundle of child-like curiosity. Happily humming in consideration, Pap rifles through this miniature mountain of shopping bags. They're piled wherever there's available space. Spread along the right side of the backseat and littering the floor beneath the driver's seat. Noisy crinkling paper accompanies his tireless quest of discovery.

We haven't spoken a word to each other ever since leaving our house. Mostly due to my insistence on staying quiet.

But also because Papyrus jumped to conclusions. Assuming I was tired from lack of sleep, he let me be. Gave me my preferred personal space. I didn't even have to ask for permission. I figure he probably thought I'd talk once I was properly rested.

Truth is? I've never been more awake than I am now.

Parked right beside a wide set of porch steps a mere three feet away, I can pick up on snatches of conversation. My soul writhes and twists in anxious knots at hearing Frisk's sweet voice. Listening to her admit tearfully to missing Mettaton.

Realizing she's on the verge of crying, whatever little amount of control I exercised over my emotions shatters.

Everything I've been holding at bay rushes to the surface. Enormous guilt threatens to crush my soul to dust. Drowning in remorse, I scramble to an upright sitting position.

My left hand bursts out from wrinkled folds of cotton, flying up to palm my downturned mouth. Barely muffling the sound of my choked sob.

That's about all I can stand. I'm not going to sit here a second longer. I made a mistake in coming all the way out here to her neighborhood.

Words won't mend what's been broken. Nothing will change what I've done.

I killed her. My best and closest friend. Without hesitation.

I should have fought for my right to remain in bed. Instead, I went along for the ride. Faintly trusting my emotions would sort themselves out in Pap's presence.

Nope.

Rather than getting better, I started feeling worse. Spiralling further and further into black despair.

I don't deserve to share her company. I'm sorry, Pap. Forgive your cowardly older brother.

Expelling a shuddering sigh, I mentally judge the distance from Frisk's house to mine. I draw a rough estimate on how much magic I'll have to expend to make the trip.

The resulting answer isn't good news, of course. Crossing over a thousand feet of land, I'll be unable to walk a single step. My pain will be triple that of last night's. Crippling exhaustion will leave me inactive for a whole week.

Yet, as daunting as the information is, I can't afford to care. This will be my punishment for murdering an innocent child. Besides, despite the promise of terrifying nightmares, the idea of sleep greatly appeals to me.

Means I won't have to deal with Frisk after all.

With my destination set, I ruthlessly yank out a sizable piece of magic. Definitely more than is deemed safe for my waning health. Carving straight from my weeping soul. Immediately following this action, I feel boiling heat greedily lick my bones. Devouring body and soul alike in a swirling vortex of molten fire.

Weakly, I cling onto my sanity, pain tearing through me with hellish fury. Showing no sign of easing up. Rapidly increasing to insurmountable levels.

Just as the scream finally rips from my ribcage, I'm already gone. Tumbling headlong through time and space. Various colors bleed into eachother, whizzing past me in a speedy blur. Much too fast for me to track. Any sound I could utter is swallowed up in a vacuum of oppressive, infinite silence.

At the last possible second, trapped in a daze, I adjust my course. Re-directing my planned route. The world grinds to an abrupt halt and I'm sent sprawling in a heap of bony limbs onto our kitchen floor.

The sudden hard landing causes
a fresh bolt of agony to arc up my front, curving the length of my spine. Quietly, I whimper, dragging burning fingertips along chilled tile.

The inferno's relentless, scorching my will to ash. Beating me into snivelling submission. Soon, I lose my ability to form any sort of sound. Pressing my forehead against the door of our fridge, I wait for the torment to be over.

Right when I think I might never find relief, the second stage of what Alphys calls 'magic sickness' hits. Exhaustion. 'Crippling', is a massive understatement.

Before I can try to recover from the pain I just experienced, I'm pulled under. My eyesockets drooping shut, I slip into fitful unconsciousness.

Even in my dreams, my conscience drags me unwillingly back to that room. Forcing me to relive unspeakable tragedy. A horrible scene I can never unsee so long as I exist.

I gaze in horror, recoiling from the sight.

"N-no...." I croak in disbelief. What have I done?

Staggering, I bump the ridges of my spine into the closed door. Reaching down, I fumble blindly with my right hand and test the doorknob. Locked.

There's so much blood.... I find myself caught in a macabre trance. Unable to look away.

A bright crimson lake drowns her limp lifeless body. The edges of her favorite sweater are sopping wet, soaked in the red sea. My single bone impales her chest, mocking me. Declaring once and for all this was my fault. I was the one whom decided things should end this way. In a show of brutal violence.

"I didn't want this!" I angrily scream, ferociously shaking my skull side to side.

Bristling with unbridled indignation, I stomp over to where Frisk lay. Pointedly avoiding stepping in the shallow puddle, I bend forward. My left hand outstretches, seeking to engulf the bone in my large palm.

It doesn't turn out that way. Soon as I attempt to make contact, my entire hand passes straight through. As if I'm a ghost. Or, maybe I'm just not meant to be able to pull the bone out. Whatever the reason, this doesn't deter me.

Growling, I swipe my fingers at the stupid bone again. And again. And again. Each effort having the same result.

No matter what angle, no matter how many times I try, I can't physically grasp the bone.

I don't bother using magic as an alternative, knowing perfectly well I have no real power here.

I'm out of options.

Sparing a single spiteful glare at the source of my anguish, I turn my back on Frisk's corpse, facing the south wall.

And immediately stiffen in paralyzing shock, noticing there's something else in the room besides Frisk. They stand a dozen feet away, steadily glowing white circles of light watching me calmly.

Their skull is fractured in two places. Jagged scar-like cracks. There's one above their left eyesocket, the second below their right, marking the corner of a perpetually smiling mouth. Both look to have been created in the wake of a traumatic event.

Although, without the facts, all I can really do is speculate what could have occurred.

Struck dumb by their sudden appearance, I can only stare. Wondering how they could have entered my nightmare.

"Hello, Sans." the stranger rumbles as way of greeting. I snap to attention, tossing him a look of surprise. How does he already know my name? "It's good we can finally meet like this. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am W.D. Gaster. The Underworld's ex Royal Scientist. I've been watching you."
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A/N: I actually cried writing this.... Capturing Sans' hurt was really challenging for me. But, I finished it. Yay...

Excuse me while I go get a heaping dose of happy, courtesy of funny Youtube videos. I need a good laugh...

Thank so much for reading. Remember to vote if you enjoyed. Comment if you'd like to leave feedback. Any vote or comment is greatly appreciated. Thank you again. Until next chapter.
-J