Sans ends up agreeing to go to the funeral. Mostly to see the casket and make sure it was Frisk's body there, set to rot and decay in still death. Make sure it was true, that Toriel and the others didn't mistake someone else for Frisk. Sans knows there's next to no chance multiple people made a mistake that massive, but... still.

Fucking hell, Flowey had a crack at Frisk with the power of seven human souls and is still lost. Repeatedly.

(Though, after the first few hundred resets, Sans was pretty sure Flowey just started giving up and going easier. He hates that bastard flower and wants him the fuck away from his new family, but they always were a bit too similar in the reset regard when it came to Frisk.)

In the wait for the funeral to come around, Sans' life is mostly filled with diapers, babies, and serial killers who weren't quite ready for a human baby. They hadn't realized how comfortable everyone was with a skeleton child.

And Sans couldn't blame them. Neither had he realized. He knew, by all accounts, Bean was easy. She didn't cry. And sure, sometimes it was weird and concerning to turn over and see her staring blankly at Sans with such intense eye lights that he had to check that something hadn't crawled onto his face. And yes, she had razor-sharp teeth and bit down until people bled, and teleports around a lot since she doesn't have control over her magic Jeff once tripped down a bone attack of hers and fell down the stairs and that was fucking hilarious -

But, frankly, skeletons were easy when it came to not accidentally killing them. For the (most) part, skeletons couldn't get sick too much. Sans has only gotten sick a handful of times, and as far as he could remember Papyrus never got sick. Might be genetics or something.

Bathing was easy. Sans could just fill a tub, set down Bean inside until she was fully submerged, and play around on his phone while she crawled and floated about. One time she teleported into the chemical cabinet and they found her eating tide pods. Which is fine, since she doesn't have organs. Skeletons are one of the few races in the entire monster species that are immune to chemicals.

Sans has actually tried a Tide pod before when that whole rave went up and the memes floated about. They're fucking disgusting. And humans ate them to die? Not worth it, in his opinion. Shitty last meal.

Even with Bean's weird traits, she's easy, long story short.

Cole is not.

He's small, chubby, and fragile. Everything is locked up. All sharp edges are covered. Baby gates infiltrate their home. He swears Ben just will crawl from one T.V. and out the other to avoid them. He'd laugh, but Sans suffers from short symptoms as well. Laughing Jack is always way too eager and way too gleeful to offer and lift Sans over them.

Cole cries, oh god he cries so fucking much. Every minor inconvenience, new face, and new change leads to tears. Is the television on too loud? He cries. Sans makes a silly face? He cries. Jane flirts with him one time? Sobs for hours on end. Ben showing up home covered in blood and a smoothie in hand? Well, Cole actually just rolled over and tried to crawl away. No crying there.

That's another thing. Cole keeps trying to escape whatever room he's in as if there's an escape car waiting outside. He's a soul birth, and with Jane's unnatural strength inherited, Cole is able to move his limbs in more coherent ways. It's not long before he's starting to roll, and tug himself places. Not quite to crawl, but Sans feels like it won't be long until he does start making frantic escapes towards whatever door happens to be open.

So the baby gates stay, much to his annoyance.

And the first diaper - Sans still has nightmares about it. He knows the first one is always the worst, but fuck. It's going to haunt him.

Cole's brave, as well. According to his soul. They keep a watch out for bravery traits that may pop up. He stops crying at new faces within a week, and he has a habit of challenging people touching him. For some reason, he really likes Smile Dog. Whenever the mammal turns the corner into the room, and Cole notices, he'll perk up and giggle and reach out.

Jane's great throughout the whole process. Just in case, she even wipes off her lipstick before kissing Cole's pinched-up cheeks. Cole hates it when people kiss him. Sans has a picture of Jane kissing his scrunched-up nose as Cole whines in frustration, kicking his legs in an attempt to get her off. His hair is rugged and puffy, sticking out at odd angles, and he looks positively annoyed. It's okay, though, since he takes out his anger on them that night by crying and kicking his blankets around for an hour straight.

At one point Sally tries to have a sleepover with the two of them. Somehow she manages to rope poor Toby into the mix. It ends in disaster, as Bean teleported herself up onto Cole's high chair while Toby was trying to feed him his bottle and started bonking his head all over again.

Jane, the lovely parent she was, recorded it as Toby panicked for a solid few seconds before she finally went to go get Bean.

Sans wanted to argue with her, but she only rose an eyebrow and pointed out that Sans would have recorded longer.

Touche, Jane. Toche indeed.

Toby and Sans start having some really good dates. Now that things finally settled down, and now that they weren't pretending to be dates, they were having a blast. Toby was a sweet guy, who really just got fucked over into being a CreepyPasta. And he's great with Sans' kids, for the most part, but Sans suspects no one outside of him, and Laughing Jack will ever be amazing with Bean. It's not difficult for him to transition into the Dad role.

When Sans walks into the kitchen one morning, and sees Toby gently rocking Cole back and forth with a milk bottle, burping him afterward, while making a mock impersonation of a cartoon character singing the song he was quietly humming out, Sans had a feeling he chose the right guy. That Toby was probably going to stick around.

Laughing Jack is a mixture of hot, cute, and terrifying. He's a cute danger. Jane is a sexy dangerous, who's keen and sharp at any given moment. And Toby? Toby is just cute. Like a little puppy. He's got the fluffy hair and everything.

They start cuddling together on the couch, around three weeks after Cole was born. Sans is holding Bean (keeping her head far, far away from Cole) as some kid's show runs on the T.V. for Sally. She wandered off ages ago to go get a juice box and play with Charlie, yet for some reason the adults who all swore they didn't like this show were enamored by the plot. Toby was leaning against him, holding Cole.

Sans was running a hand through Toby's hair, easily the softest he's ever touched. Cole is sitting idly, staring wide-eyed at everyone in the room like they were all strangers he hasn't met a million times. Eventually, Sans is leaning against Toby, and one of Toby's arms snakes around Sans' shoulder as his fingers twitch in a tic.

"You forgot to yawn obnoxiously," Sans points out.

Toby makes a face. "Well, oops."

Sans laughs at the face, and they return to watching a princess show that was surprisingly interesting. Sans stays for six more episodes before he goes to give Bean a bath.

For the time being, his sex life is nonexistent. Which makes sense, considering the newborn thrown into their lives. But that means both Jane and Laughing Jack, two very needy people, are not getting off in a while.

It spells danger for Sans on the horizon. He chooses to not think about that right now. Even though he knows Laughing Jack is eyeing him up from behind.

The most surprising out of everyone with the kids is Helen. Sans thought he'd focus on himself more, but Helen has made a lot more improvement than Sans had thought. He's started picking up conversations more with everyone. The other day, Sans, Helen, and Clockwork all got into an in-depth discussion about pickles. Sans got kicked out of the conversation when he mentioned ketchup-flavored pickles were the best and then reinvited when the others realized those actually existed and debated the merit of their existence.

And hey, monsters were just creative with flavoring. That's all Sans had to say in that regard.

Helen attaches himself to the two kids in no time. Sans knew Helen was always open to caring for Bean, and that when he had kidnapped Sans all that time ago, he had formed a bond with her immediately. And Sans knew he, too, had a bit of a weird bond with Helen. A bit codependent, in a way. Whenever Sans looked at Helen, he just saw his old self, staring back to a pitiful degree. It was painful, and he had to help him, even if just a bit.

Now, though, Helen just looks like Helen. He's not fixed yet, and Sans could very much attest to how there was no "fixed", but Helen is looking like his own person with each passing day. It's nice to see.

So yeah, life is going well for the most part. Busy. Interesting. But it's just life. A simple family life. Of course, a simple family life consisting of serial killers and the old Royal Judge who was technically a murderer himself. That puts a spin on things, but frankly, Sans likes the spin. He's never been one for normality anyways. Heavens knew resets provided way too much of repeat, dull days for him. He needed a slight spice of action, of change and difference and uniqueness that clung like a bad smell. And they gave that to him.

He adores it. All of it.

Bean's walking consistently now. Even if it's more of a waddle. She's very set to get to places (places that seem to always be where Sans is), so she makes great progress in that regard. The baby gates come in handy a lot, apparently. Even if he hates them.

Eventually, the funeral comes.

Sans chooses not to bring either of his kids. Sure, it was Frisk, and Sans had absolutely no respect for the brat, but he's not gonna be the guy that brings either a creepy biter or a crying month-old baby. Especially since he was not going to be staying too long, and especially since his old friends and family were going to be there. Just to see Frisk.

It's weird, admitting Frisk is dead. That someone who had such an impact in his life - in everyone's, really, is gone and buried. An unstoppable force who was stopped. You didn't hear that every day.

He keeps Laughing Jack at home as well, to watch the kids with Jane. Frankly, he doesn't trust either of them at the funeral. Laughing Jack had the restraint of a nuclear bomb and Jane was seen by Papyrus before. When she did that test to prove to him he was a lying piece of shit.

Frankly, she could've done something more thorough than a dumb test, but hey, it got the job done.

So, Sans brings Toby.

It feels wrong, to be all dressed up in a suit. To make sure his skull is clean, and that his tie isn't crooked. Knowing that he's going to the funeral, for Frisk. A funeral for Frisk. With all of his old friends and estranged brother there.

Even in death, Frisk is fucking him over.

Honestly, he's not sure if he can do it. This will be facing so many people from his past all at once. Confronting issues head-on, issues he struggled with even identifying for years. Issues he helped cultivate into what they were today. Papyrus may have walked all over Sans, but it was Sans that lay on the floor.

Sans wishes he could bring Laughing Jack, but he doesn't think the clown could hold back if he saw the man that left Sans for dead in a building. So behind Jack stays.

Either way, when Sans pulls into the gravel parking lot, his pinkie finger is linked with Toby's. It's not raining, not like in the movies. The sky is dull and plain, and the air is wretched and stale in the summer heat. It's warm, almost blisteringly so. Toby's skin feels warm against Sans' cool bones.

"Are you going... going to be okay?" Toby asks him.

"I dunno."

Toby gives him a look. Sans only shrugs in response and tilts his key to turn off his car.

It was a three-hour drive to get to the funeral home. He hates suits, so he already feels the tie beginning to itch around his neck, and he recognizes Papyrus' red and obnoxious car parked across the way. Sans made sure to park on the other side.

"If you need to... to leave, I can make myself throw up at all. I - feck - used to all the time to go home from school. I'll be an excuse."

"Sweet. Thanks, Tob."

Sans has been jumping back and forth over wanting to do this, and not wanting to. He honestly never wanted to confront any of them again, and certainly not in this situation. The rest of them adored Frisk, all had little moments with the kid that formed deep bonds. And seeing Sans again during the kid's funeral? Toriel may just straight-up attack Sans. She's never been one to handle grief greatly before. He'd be jumping into a lion's den and may very well face off with sharks and dinosaurs. He knew it was dangerous, but he didn't know what kind of danger.

But this might be good. He needed to see Frisk off one final time, knowing for sure the kid was dead. Make sure it's their corpse, laying in that casket.

"Do you think there'll be any problem with me? With my con... condition?" Toby asks Sans as they start walking up toward the small, one-floor building. His hand is sweaty against Sans', but Sans holds it anyways. "I might accidentally yell out feck or whoop or something during the ceremony. Should I sit outside?"

"What? No, that's not your fault. And when you do the vocal tics you actually aren't terribly loud," Sans explains, squeezing his hand. "It's more of maybe a yelp, or raising your voice a bit above normal."

"I know, but still..."

"It'll be fine. And hey, if it gets too bad I'll make a whole scene where I'm worried sick about ya and we can escape to go get burgers or something."

"It's a plan."

There's a dreary sense to the world when Sans steps into the building. Neat, organized, with a lingering taste of death around it. Already, Sans' tie is itching more, and he wants to claw it off. He hates, hates fancy clothing. Because he's a short skeleton, long pants, and tight suits bother him to no end. They always feel weird, and stiff, and whenever Sans looks in a mirror he hates the way his round skull goes with the outfits. At this point, he may just switch to skirts and dresses if he has to look nice. Sans has always hated nice suits, and he did make a bet with Zero...

And it's not like Sans really cares about looking masculine too much. He wants to be a stay-at-home parent who can fuck around with his kids with pranks and make enough dad jokes to rot a household in an afternoon. Maybe a dress next time would be a better choice because the tie is bothersome and the belt he has to wear with the nice pants digs into his pelvis. He's just got there, and already he hates everything.

Toby, at least, looks nice. He's combed his hair, wearing a suit they just got made for him, and a mask to cover the gash in the side of his mouth. The suit fits well, and it brings out how his shoulders are a bit muscular despite his mostly slender and frail frame. Toby fiddles with the edge of his suit as they pass a mirror, his brown eyes almost staring in wonder at it.

He looks cute, with the bowtie and his fluffy hair. Toby always has puppy-like eyes, round and almost owlish. Honestly, Sans is glad he came. Because he's going to brag.

He can imagine it now. 'Oh, hello people who talked behind my back and didn't appreciate me and didn't help with my depression spiraling. Why yes, this is my boyfriend, who's cute and tall and strong.' That's a cool revenge story if he's ever heard it. Anyone's dream, really, to show up to a gathering of people they didn't like with a new, better life in tow.

If only he could've brought Jane. Oh man, that would've been the nail in the coffin.

Maybe he shouldn't say something like that at someone's funeral.

He sees Grillby first. Grillby has a very distinct, bright look that immediately draws one's eyes to his location. Grillby is talking to Asgore, wearing a fireproof suit that's colored a dark blue. Next to him is his date he's mentioned a couple of times. They seem nice, dressed up with a reassuring but firm smiles. He's glad Grillby settled down after his wife died in the war. His kid was in college, it was about time he got out and about again.

Then he sees him.

Sans wishes he didn't, but he always noticed Papyrus quickly. Papyrus is standing next to Undyne, whose face is snarled into a glare pointed at the floor as he mutters to her. She seems to be half paying attention. To her left, Alphys is nervously gaming on her phone. She's always done that if she's stressed. She'd watch anime or games until her mind went blank.

Toriel isn't in sight right now. Sans has a feeling she ran to the bathroom or something.

It's weird, to see them all again after so long. He feels like it's the house, all over again, when he's yelling at them. Or it's Underground, right when they escaped, the whole group looking out at the sunset. Especially seeing them in this context.

It's weird. It's just so weird. Sans feels more wrong here than he ever has before. He wants to turn tail and flee.

He doesn't, though. Instead, he gently tugs Toby closer to him.

"That's your brother?" Toby asks quietly.

"Mhm. His name is Papyrus. And that's Undyne, she's head of the Royal Guard."

Toby grimaced. Sans knows what that means. None of the CreepyPasta were particularly fond of police. And the Royal Guard was just the monster police.

"And that's Alphys," Sans explains. "And that is Grillby. That's his date, I don't know their name, but he said they go by their pronouns. So keep that in mind. And that's Asgore."

Toby's face turns sour. "The King?"

"Yep."

Of course, CreepyPasta don't like Asgore. He's the King for heaven's sake. One wrong move near him and that's a trident to the face before you're thrown behind bars. No matter how much of a softie Asgore is, he's ruthless when he needs to be. That's why he's a good King. He does what needs to be done.

Which, Sans knows, means that Asgore will turn on Sans if he finds out.

It's the sad truth. Sans is housing serial killers, covering their crimes. He knows that he's technically an enemy of the government now. That he can and would be arrested if he was found out. That no matter how deep his and Asgore's relationship was, Asgore would put the safety of his population before Sans'. And Sans can't blame him.

"We'll be quick," Sans offers.

Mettaton notices Sans next, as Sans approaches the casket. Sans didn't even see the robot at first, not until he slightly nodded his head to address Sans. Sans waves back. He's... not too familiar with Mettaton on a personal level. His shows were enjoyable, especially since he got some major backers once he got onto the surface. And Sans saw him a few times around Frisk and Alphys, so he knew Frisk and Mettaton were acquaintances much like how Sans and Frisk were. It's a bit weird to see him, honestly.

Toby squeezes his hand, there and present, and Sans moves forward.

He's quiet, for a moment. All it still. Despite the muffled voices around him, all is gone from his mind.

He's daydreamed about this day, of course. But he's still not quite ready for it. Then again, would Sans ever be ready for this sight?

Frisk looks almost peaceful. Serene. Unreal. Like an oil painting spread out before him, cracked lips and a calm, empty expression. Strands of hair spray out underneath the child, their skin pale and lifeless. He knows, if he were to break the unspoken rule and reach forward to touch them, they would be cold.

It's at that moment that the image of immortal, never-ending Frisk finally shatters. And Sans doesn't feel much of anything, at that moment. It just is.

Frisk is dead. For good. For real.

And, even despite the heavy amount of makeup and clothes, he can see the faint claw and knife marks peeking out from the sleeves of their clothing. And he knows that's why Frisk is wearing such thick clothes, and why they're plastered in makeup and their coffin is only open for their face. He's almost tempted to reach out and toss it open, to see what wounds Frisk suffered. What excruciating pain the child went through.

And Sans feels sick with both guilt and relief. And takes an almost sick sense of pleasure from it.

Frisk was never a good person.

And, looking down, Sans can see his own reflection in that casket.

He feels sick now.

His hand tugs on Toby's, the pressure light and firm all at once. He glances over, his bones raw and his nonexistent gut queasy.

"Let's go," Sans says.

He doesn't know why this is affecting him, but at the same time, he does. He understands why this is difficult to grapple with. There's so much churning in his skull that he can't focus on one thought through the thousands of them roaming about.

On the way out, he knows he's being watched.

And he makes eye contact with his brother.

Papyrus looks a bit older. He's not any taller, but his clothes are worn a bit. He's still wearing his usual red scarf and boots to go with, despite being at a funeral. The edges are singed, though, and Sans can see the slight stains of spaghetti sauce at the edges. His fingers twist into that very fabric as he watches Sans.

Hesitant. Nervous.

And all Sans can see, looking at Papyrus, is the same man from the building.

"Come on, let's... let's go," Toby says, wrapping an arm around Sans' shoulders and walking forward with him.

Papyrus doesn't stop him. His eye sockets plead for him to stop, but he never calls out, never makes a move.

Sans huffs, and turns around to look away.

Papyrus has always been a coward.

___

When Sans dreams that night, he dreams of Oliva.

It's fitting, in a cruel and twisted way. There was never a 'start' to the weird misfortunes of Comic Sans. From birth Sans had jumped around, never quite finding the place in life to settle into, to truly fit. There was never a start, per se.

Until Oliva.

That was the start of the CreepyPasta. Of everything, Sans knew getting turned onto its head. Of things going both horribly wrong and quite right all at once. Oliva, the poor girl who trusted the tall man in the suit. Who was placed under the wrong supervision that day?

Sans has gone through hell with his split-second decision to nap on that day. On what he had done. Sans didn't give a shit about people's lives most of the time, but Oliva was different. That was on his hands. An innocent kid who should've been watched. Who was slaughtered. Torn to shreds.

And she, of course, is a prime example of his moral dilemma.

Sans is not a good person. He knows this. At best, he's morally grey. And he's accepted this, for years. He didn't fight to save the world against Frisk because he wanted to, but because he had to. There were countless resets he could count where he let them walk past, knowing they killed people he cared about because he knew it was pointless. A hero, a true hero, would jump into a fight to stop them no matter what.

But Sans isn't a hero.

So dealing with the loss of Olivia is difficult. And he knows he's dreaming of her for a reason.

She died because he took a nap. She died because of Sans' actions. And he knows he's overlooking the other countless deaths that are going on because he's allowing CreepyPasta into his home. Dating them. Having their kids.

So it's hypocritical, really. Right? He doesn't quite get why this is so difficult for him, yet he does at the same time. He's being selfish, he wants it both ways. And Sans just wishes his mind could figure out one path and stick to it. Why was it okay for Oliva to affect him so much, for Frisk to affect him, and for other deaths to be acceptable? For him to nod along and not care what Jeff or Jack did?

For him to be scared of Slenderman and not them.

Sans startles awake with a gasp, already acutely aware of Jane's arms wrapped around him along with Laughing Jack's. Jane is dead to the world, having spent all day with Bean and Cole, likely exhausted from their constant need for attention. Laughing Jack, on the other hand, is wide awake. He's rubbing tiny circles onto Sans' cheekbone with one of his thumbs, his eyes staring down at the skeleton like he's the world itself. And Sans is very much knowledgeable that he is the world to that clown.

Sans wonders what he can define his world as. It would be the CreepyPasta, theoretically. But he isn't fully devoted, not like Laughing Jack and his twisted, odd obsession. His world used to be Papyrus, but that was a clusterfuck of terrible emotions. Should he even let himself devote his entire body and soul to these killers, or should he hold onto his remaining bits of, in a way, humanity.

Or is helping them more humane?

His head hurts.

"You had a nightmare," Laughing Jack points out. He leans forward, pressing a small kiss against the corner of Sans' eye socket. Sans reaches up and cups the hand holding him, running his fingers across the claws that never dared to hurt him.

"I'm a mess," Sans mutters.

"I can listen. I've been practicing!" Laughing Jack beams, his clawed teeth twisting into a manic grin only a psychopath could ever love.

And dammit, Sans loves it.

"How?"

"Bean and I have very fun conversations. She says bah and beh and I nod along. See? Very good."

Sans chuckles. "Glad yer both getting along."

As if to confirm, Bean babbles from her crib. Sans represses the urge to snort.

That thumb doesn't stop on his cheekbone. And Sans doesn't want it to.

"I had a nightmare about Oliva... the little girl that Slenderman killed. That gave me the Slender sickness, that got me Smile Dog, and all of this..." Sans explains quietly. He sits up gently, tucking Jane's arm to the side. She mutters a bit but doesn't quite wake up. Holy shit, she's exhausted. "I guess seeing Frisk brought up some bad, complicated thoughts. Ya know?"

Laughing Jack grimaces. He fidgets a bit with his free hand. "Are you upset? That they're gone?"

"What? Nah. Glad." Sans blinks, running a hand down his face. "I guess... I dunno, it's hard to explain. Like, I know I'm a bad person. I know. But I still feel fucking shitty, for some reason."

Laughing Jack looks confused. His eyebrows twist upwards. "You're not a bad person."

Those words shouldn't make the weight in his gut churn more than it already was, yet here Sans was, trying to knock those words, those reassurances, out of his mind.

"I am. Jackie, I kinda... I mean, I killed my Dad. And sure, that was self-defense, but then I didn't always kill Frisk when they hurt people. And now? I'm homing and hiding active serial killers, not reporting them, and providing them means and comfort to kill." Sans pauses to suck in a breath, to tuck himself closer to his serial killer lover. Laughing Jack lets him, his body warm and lean. "And like, I fucking get it. I know I'm fucked. I just... I've never looked at the face of consequences, I guess. That's why seeing Frisk is getting me all wonky. It's a complicated situation. Frisk was some immortal god to me, but looking into that casket they're just a... a fucking kid. Some worthless brat who just got some powers through luck. Some brat I killed hundreds of times, and some brat who I let swing me around until I hated myself and everything. And it's just a kid!"

Sans exhales sharply, wanting to curl up and go back to sleep. He hates talking about emotions sometimes. It feels like an endless pit, one he scoops handful after handful of slick, black oil from that never quite runs dry.

But Laughing Jack is listening. And if there's one person in the world that'd take anything from Sans in abundance, it's him. He reaches over, leaning his head against Sans and keeping him close. His hands are never far. Drifting across Sans' face, his shoulder blades, across his knees.

"So there's that all, I guess," Sans mutters. "And then I guess facing Frisk's fucking corpse made me think about Oliva again. Because she started this all, in some weird twisted way, despite being the victim. When yer guys kill, I don't have to face it. But..."

But he did. Oliva. Frisk. He had to face those. He had to see the results of his actions. Oliva was a mistake. And Frisk deserved it. But still. It's the reminder.

Sans has always been doing a balancing act. He's always been walking the line between life and death, good and evil, because the world is never a line, to begin with. There's no plain good, and there's no plain bad. He's known that ever since his childhood fucked him up. Ever since Asgore trained him as a Judge.

And that's another thing. He's been trained in this moral field, and he's still fucking it up.

"It's a combination of a lot of fucked up things, I guess," Sans admits. "I thought I was aware, I was close enough to this death stuff. But uh... I guess I wasn't."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not yer fault."

It's him, for daring to think he could have his cake and eat it too. That's the problem with this. He wants to have the CreepyPasta, be the saviors of their stories and haven't really confronted their world yet. He's had bits and pieces. He's seen a fight or two, he's heard some gossip.

But Sans isn't fully intertwined. He never has been. There's a reason they call him just an honorary CreepyPasta.

Add that onto the Frisk stuff, onto his involvement with Oliva's death, to what her death started?

Yeah, Sans is fucked up. Today was just a collage of bad memories all bundled into one. Confrontations he thought he was ready for, and he wasn't. And now he has to grapple with the thoughts, of what this all led to. On where to go next.

Because, for some damn fucked up reason, he keeps seeing himself in that damn casket, knowing that he was just as fucked up as Frisk was. And knowing, at some point, that this can't continue. Sans doesn't think he can quite walk this line anymore. He feels nauseous, even thinking about it. And he hates how jumbled he is that night, and he hates that he has to deal with this at all. He sees Frisk's dead body, and instead of jumping with joy, he's having a fucking moral crisis.

Of course.

Because Sans cannot go through some emotional damage only once a year. Has to be every other month, apparently.

"I don't wanna become a CreepyPasta," Sans mutters.

Laughing Jack shrugs. "Then don't."

"What if I don't have a choice? What if..."

He sucks in a breath and lowers his hands to his lap. He knows, one day, he'll probably have to make a choice. And he knows he'll have to talk about these thoughts more. It's not something he can just ignore and continue on with, considering the people he has chosen to surround himself with. He can't just be a hypocrite, can't just let these thoughts linger and build.

But what can he do that'll get him his desired outcome? Sans wants to stick near these people. Yet he doesn't understand their world and doesn't look at death in the face. Not too often, anyways. He hasn't really done that. Sure, he's seen most people who deserved it hurt. But most of their victims were like Oliva. Innocent. And he never cared about them before, and he still doesn't because they're faceless.

Oliva wasn't faceless.

"This is gonna need some thinking," Sans croaks out and leans against Laughing Jack.

Sans has a feeling that this is only the beginning. Of the two worlds he's tried to keep himself a part of starting to crumble together into a distorted mess. The actions he has done will force him to confront the consequences. And that, one day, he will likely have to choose a side.

And he knows, as he leans against the clown, which side he'll end up choosing.

And that, admittedly, scares him.

___

And so begins Sans' arc into Creepypasta. The thing about this series, so far, is that Sans hasn't really embraced the Creepypasta lifestyle yet. This is Sans finally confronting how he's been just standing in the middle, not fully taking either side yet, and how that just hasn't fully been working the way he thought it has. He's performing a balancing act for a failing circus, pretty much. And he never fully confronted that day with Slenderman and Oliva yet, and he won't fully until Slenderman actually comes into the picture.

Now that Frisk is gone, Sans is finally facing something he's been putting off because Frisk was still a threat. To be a Creepypasta or not is the question, and only Sans can answer that. 

And I apologize, but updates may be iffy and a bit inconsistent. I did actually change a good number of plot points so hopefully Sans jumping back into moral debate again isn't out of character or 'tired' at this point considering how much he does it, lol. But then again, Sans hasn't once *fully* entered the world of CreepyPasta. Seeing Frisk dead is a wake up call, in a way, and Sans is having to deal with the fallout of his emotions from all of that funeral stuff. 

Also, Cole looks like this:

https://youtu.be/MbieAbhM-bM