Snowflakes flittered through the crisp air and dappled the town of Snowdin in beautiful white, something the residents always cared for when living their lives in this part of the underground. The faintest of wind stirred a bright red scarf that laid on the ground, held down by the disembodied skull of its owner.

Papyrus would have trembled from the cold if he could still feel his body, confirming with a glance downwards that it had already faded to dust. He felt sorrow fill his mind as he saw the poorly treated remains of his battle body, the front torn open with a red gash.

Papyrus sighed heavily, letting his gaze drift back upwards to face the sky, or at least the far above roof of the cavern the monsters lived in. He narrowed his eyes sockets as he heard his body fade to dust and swirl away on the wind.

"So.. This is what you were scared of, Sans.." He said aloud, speaking to now one in particular. Because there was no one. They were all dust, scattered with the ashes of memories and life around the empty underground.

"You didn't want us to die.." Papyrus sighed softly, his breath short and rough, forced out of his mouth, running low until eventually there was nothing left.

"You knew, didn't you.." He recalled how friendly the human looked when he first saw them in the glade, so happy and excited. He had opened his arms, his soul, to them, he was ready to lay down everything he had for them, to show them right from wrong, to give them the life he had recieved from Sans.

But it was torn away. Like his skull from his neck.

"I'm sorry.." He whispered, this time to the wind, believing with what little hope he had left that his older brother would somehow hear his words, and at least understand.

"Sans, I really am.. I just wish... wish you would have... would have known..." He couldn't finish. The last breath he had in him escaped too quickly, and he let his eyes fall shut. He let the weight be lifted. The pain ebb away.

But, as his soul appeared, cracked and beaten, a tiny interscice in the strange vessel shed the smallest hint of compasion, and understanding. It was enough to press out the final words.

"Little brothers always know."