Sans is having a problem. Seeing Frisk brought up issues he hadn't even realized he had until they were thrust into his face. Unavoidable. Spongy messes of morals and internal debate. And he hates how, despite not having thought about her in months, Oliva somehow keeps coming back full force.

She's a representation of his fucked up life. Of hypocrisy. Of feeling guilty over one and not over hundreds of others. He needs to confront their bodies if he wants to live this life. He needs to confront Oliva, in a way. Oliva and Frisk. He has to let these feelings exist, and sit down and deal with them.

So, Sans tries something new. He sits down. And he writes. He answers. He explains.

Why does Frisk dying make him upset? Happy? Scared?

- It means that the person who hurt him so much died so easily. It reminded Sans of their mortality. That his entire life was ruined by someone who just... was a child. And that hurt to admit.

-They're gone. He's free.

-It means there's someone else out there, and they could be worse. And... it's making him confront how fucked up it is that he's so darn happy a kid is gone. And it's making him confront how he enabled people to do this, and would do so again in a heartbeat.

Sans still doesn't feel like he's getting anywhere. So, with a huff, he erases until his wrist aches and he starts over again.

What's the difference between Oliva and the other victims that makes her important?

He sits on that one, for a while.

There's the obvious. She was under his supervision. He watched it happen. She died brutally. She was a kid. Yet she was different than...

Maybe it's because it happened when Sans was still connected to the idea of lives were important?

He doesn't know. Fucking hell.

Sans has known all along this is fucked up, that this is wrong, and that he is an enabler who is just as guilty. So why the fuck did Frisk's funeral bring about all of this? He hates it.

Do you want to become a CreepyPasta?

He does. And he doesn't. It's... complicated. Then again, that's this whole situation. It's all complicated, and that's why he's struggling. He can't quite find the words to perfectly explain his situation.

"You might not get your feelings," Jane explains one day, setting a cup of coffee down next to Sans with a gentle click that breaks him from his thoughts. Her expression is stern and soft. Gooey, almost. "That's okay as well."

"It... it's still weird, ya know?" Sans coughs out.

Jane stares. "Sans, you're a parent of two newborns, neither of which is a year old yet. You're the sole caretaker of about a dozen serial killers you have to constantly be worried about. You're in a neighborhood you don't want to be in, and you're juggling three relationships. And you dealt with resets and experiments on your own, along with being a Judge in your past and also wanting certain people who hurt you dead. You just went to the funeral of one of your main tormentors and saw old friends you're estranged with. Sans, if there's anyone in this fucking world who can have conflicting standards you have to face, it's you. It's okay." She kisses his skull lightly. "Now drink your dumb coffee, write in your notebook, and go play with Cole and Bean."

He does. He listens to her advice and writes until things can maybe one day make sense.

It doesn't. But it helps him get a somewhat decent handle on his emotions, he supposed.

In the end, he crumples up the pages and throws them all away. It doesn't really help to stare at a blank page once he's written too much word vomit.

He talks to the others. To those who juggled the decision themselves. Toby is a good choice, along with Zero and Helen. They all have different options, different ways of expressing themselves, and different conclusions. So, Sans listens. Some of their help is good. Toby expresses his lack of a choice, his lack of really belonging. Being a puppet for Slenderman, and knowing that he's still out there. What it meant to be a CreepyPasta, and how he couldn't do it. Then he talks to Zero, and how being a Creepypasta was an escape for her. How she would keep this life, no matter what.

And then, he speaks to Helen.

Helen is doing pretty great. His therapy sessions have gone down in number every week since he's been becoming more stable. His flower is flourishing, bright and red, and pretty. He's talking to others, hanging out with Toby and Clockwork. He's not open about it, the same way Eyeless Jack isn't open about his socialization and friendships. But Helen shows his care in other ways. One day, before a date between Sans and Toby, Sans caught sight of Helen running a comb through Toby's hair with a light hum.

He's doing good. And Sans is glad. Super glad, honestly. Especially since Helen adored Sans' kids, and sometimes happened to find himself in the same room as them, making faces at them and playing with them. He's painting more, too.

So it makes sense, to talk to him. The most similar person in that building, to Sans, was Helen. It wasn't much of a surprise for them both to end up on Sans' back porch, staring at the small enclosure he called his yard as Smile Dog played with Bean and Cole out in the grass. Cole is having a blast, wiggling and rolling about with cheerful giggles. Bean, on the other hand, is whining, and making her way towards Sans in a half walk, half crawl sort of deal. Soon, it's not long until she reaches his feet, and paws at his legs to try and crawl up.

"It's difficult to explain, I guess," Helen offers gently. His blue eyes, sharp and focused, softened as he watched Bean babble and coo. He fiddles with the edge of a paintbrush he carried, unable to keep his hands still. "You don't really know what it's like until you do it. But I do understand where you're coming from."

"You do?"

Helen shrugs. "I guess so. It's how we all started off, really."

The air is thick with smoldering heat as Sans, bundled in a thick, comfy blanket, sweeps Bean into his arms and tucks her below his chin. Finally does his kid babble excitedly, grubby hands digging into the fabric of the blanket and tugging noncommittally on it.

"When I was in school, I uh... got framed, for some stuff. Real bad stuff." Helen doesn't look at Sans when he speaks. "Stealing, plagiarism, once even arson... and then I got framed for murder when I was trying to stop someone from killing themselves."

Sans blinked. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

Helen shrugs. It's heavy 'what can you do' shrug, a show to have much he's already struggled with and accepted those memories. "So then I got onto the road, and then I met... I met Judge Angels."

Sans doesn't say anything, only watching in silence as emotions flick across Helen's face. There's hesitation and fear, but honesty and settled dust all at once. He knows it's a hard topic, and shit, it might always be a hard topic.

Sans wonders if he'll ever have to face emotions like that again. He wonders if he'll be able to handle it if it was his dates.

He's not sure if he could.

"I struggled with killing at first, but then you eventually get used to it," Helen offers quietly. "At first I was like you. But experience, and a 'us vs them' mindset sort of... helped me through it. I guess."

There's an air of silence that sweeps over them. Down the slight hill that the backyard is stationed upon, Smile Dog is licking Cole's hair into two pointy spikes as his baby is having a blast, flailing his limbs out with energy.

"That makes sense," Sans adds gently. He runs a hand over Bean's head, gentle in his movements as he does so. "I think I've been walking a middle ground I can't really walk anymore. I liked it, but I think it's time for me to actually get off my ass and confront this stuff I guess or fully draw back, ya know?"

He doesn't necessarily like those options, though. He doesn't want to fully remove the CreepyPasta from their lives, to what they considered important. He doesn't understand it, but he might not ever. Not unless he dives fully in, which also isn't a good option, because then Sans won't be able to go back. He wants both, but both aren't - and maybe never were - healthy for him. Or for his kids.

He takes a glance down at Bean, wide-eyed and grinning as she looks at him. And then he looks at Cole, who's digging his fists into Smile Dog's fur and tugging with everything he has to keep the dog close.

Staying away would keep them safe.

Trying to keep killers from killing, though? That might not go well. Jeff and Helen have been going fine without it, and Clockwork as well. But what about Eyeless Jack, who needs it for food? Or Ben, who Sans couldn't control for shit. That'd be throwing water onto a grease fire. Not a good idea.

And there's a small part of him that can't fully get rid of that thrill that comes with it. The sense of being alive, of knowing just how dangerous they are.

That's the problem. Sans loves and hates it, all at once. He's selfish in that regard. He's figured that out before, thought about it. They've killed, just like him.

So he knows, deep down, what he's going to choose.

And that scares him and makes him tingle with anticipation all at once.

"Why don't you go on a... uh, test drive?"

Helen knows Sans. Gone was the man who stuttered out nervously and avoided dealing with his friend, out of fear of losing the only one left. He's looking at Sans with eyes that know, and holy shit Sans has never been so glad he's been right about someone before. Given a chance, just like Sans, Helen is crawling his way up from the pit of despair he was thrown into.

"Test drive?" Sans asks.

"Yeah. When I started, Judge Angels had me train, tag along... those things. It helped. You don't have to do it yourself, just... watch. See what it's like on the field. And then go from there."

They sit, in a mutual silence. Thoughtful. Heat presses in around Sans, almost suffocating with how thick it is in the air. Next to him, Helen starts lightly fanning himself, face scrunching from the heat.

"Alright, it's getting too hot," Sans calls out to Smile Dog, moving to stand up. "I'll take Cole and Bean inside now. I don't want Cole to explode from the heat."

They spend the afternoon eating popsicles and playing with water guns in the backyard after they consistently check that most of their neighbors have gone to the pool party on the other side of the block. Sans wasn't invited, but he's glad he wasn't. The neighbors are more judgemental than the last ones, always staring at him if he dared to go outside in the open.

Sans thinks about it over the rest of the day. The thought is a cockroach that can't just die, not yet.

He needs to get some more input on this.

___

on an unrelated note I am dying from this fanfic. it's been a year, I want to publish other things oh gawd -

So I plotted out the rest of this fic chapter by chapter because this is becoming more of a chore than a hobby. I love publishing it, but I did some counting today and realized I have an astounding 48 rough drafts on my google doc of unfinished story ideas. So I'm going to throw myself off of a cliff.

But really it means that this story is draining me dry and honestly still has way too many characters and I don't think I'll ever be able to fully write it to the level I want it to be if I want to get to the other millions of story ideas I have. Like, I have a fnafxundertale crossover I'm working on rn and it's amazing and I desperately want to post it, but I can't because this fic has me in a choke hold. I checked my old outline, and realized I very well may be in for another years worth of work if I kept it.

So, uh, I'm cutting things. Sorry not sorry. I have one life and while I adore this series, I don't think stuffing it full like a turkey about to explode is doing it or me any favors, especially since life is only getting busier. So this story has been cut from like 60 chapters to 20, I'm removing a lot of character and filler stuff and making chapters a LOT longer (probably). I just - guys, I love you and this, but I need to be free, I shouldn't have a crises on stream lmao. And one arc I was debating with for months anyways since I was struggling with how I wanted to write it, and so, with a heavy (and lighter all the same) heart I am completely cutting the demon hell arc from this story most likely. 

That was 80 chapters the first time, no way I'm taking a crack at that with the amount of work on my shoulders, especially since it was the arc I've been like "hey yo wtf do I do with this" for the rewrite the most. So buh by to that. One day, if I knock down a decent number of fics, I'll maybe add another book in the series, and if I get any ideas I wanna cover I'll do a oneshot. And I do plan on writing more separate smaller stories of Sans and the pasta dating fics, doubt that'll ever stop.