He just felt it.

Sans didn't know what was wrong, or why he felt it, but he knew something was wrong. His soul suddenly started to ache, feeling as if he needed to be somewhere.

Something was wrong.

It had been a long time since he had touched blood, so he knew he wasn't having any reactions. Since then, he had some changes. His tail remained there, now a permanent part of his body. Horns, too, had grown, the short stubby material barely sticking out of his skull. The extra accessories to his body made him look more cute than threatening, but Sans had always contained the cuter look. It came with his small, huggable body.

Anxious feet tapped against the floor, his tail hitting the chair repeatedly. Why was something wrong? He felt it, he knew something or someone was hurt. Why did he feel like his soul was breaking?

"Are you going to keep doing that?"

Lazari. His supposed sister, half related to him through Zalgo. A human demon, sitting across from him. Her demon form looked more like a demon, with black skin and large horns that stuck out next to her red tinted brown hair. Magic danced across her hands in the same way it did Sans', the two practicing their magic.

"Somethings wrong..." Sans muttered.

They barely knew each other, the two not very keen on the ideas of a new family. Lazari's Mother hung herself from seeing her, and Sans' Father had tortured him. At least they were in the same boat, the two outcasted from their parents own choices. They weren't close, naturally, but the two talked. Lazari was rather happy to have someone else for Zalgo to hug and gush about, as he was a very Fathery man.

Oh, Sans knew that. He had fully experienced it.

"You getting more demon powers?" Lazari asked.

"Nah, it's something else. Did Bean do something?" Sans muttered the last part to himself.

He wanted to ignore it, but he couldn't. His bones felt chilled, and his soul felt as if it was aching. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

~~~~~~

Hewey noticed the change, too.

Not in his soul, but from Zalgo. His GrandFather insisted on spending time with the boy, always inviting him into his office to talk. Sans didn't necessarily like Hewey and Zalgo being alone at first, but the distraction had bought Sans time to train in secret to learn how to control his demon side. There was also a gun tucked into his pocket, ready to buy him a few moments if the demon lord tried anything.

It was odd, watching his GrandFather suddenly lose his composure. Each of his mouths downturned into a frown before his eyes were widening, tail slumping against the chair as he looked at the file.

"I... F*cking hell, I'm going to beat the everlasting sh*t out of those..." He trailed off his whisper, gazing down at the papers.

"Everything alright?" Hewey asked, leaning to the side to try and glance at the folder.

"Nope! Nothing is wrong, it's just a new dead person, nothing much," Zalgo said in a hurry, closing the folder and casting it to the side on his desk. "But we are going to have to talk about you and your Father roaming about all of the floors. I'm a bit worried about you guys dealing with the other demons."

Hewey's gaze lingered on the folder, the boy chewing slightly on his lip. He highly doubted that Zalgo was telling the truth about that. What was on that file? Information about him or his Dad? Did Zalgo find out about the extra training so Sans could go through the barrier?

For some reason, his hands felt cold. Did the room just drop in temperature. This was hell, why the f*ck was it cold? His mouth felt dry, too, the boy swallowing.

"The other demons may grow jealous of your Father..." Zalgo continued, drawing his Grandson's attention from the folder onto the conversation. "So we should make sure to limit the floors you guys are allowed on in case..."

And so, the conversation continued, Hewey pushing the thoughts into the back of his mind. He'll make sure to look at the folder later, in case that was anything important.

~~~~~~

White blanket.

That's what they gave her. A white blanket, fluttered over her form. Papyrus barely had known the girl; after all, they had met the day previous. Yet she was still his niece, and she had saved both his and BoBo's lives. He wanted to get to know her, to learn about Sans' child and how Sans loved her, and learn about her own little quirks and hobbies.

So why would they give her a white blanket? That was it? Was that all she was to them?

Papyrus could feel his eye sockets burning. He had known her for barely over a day, yet his eye sockets burned with the familiar taste of tears. Ever since reaching the surface, he felt like he has been crying nonstop. Was this his life now? To cash in the crying and grief he missed underground, resulting in double of the effects on the surface?

The seat was cold. It dug into his bones, jolting into his body. A hard weight was leaning against him, his arms wrapped around her as she sobbed.

At first, she had screamed. A deafening, loud pitched scream that barely phased the staff. Leonie might have even thrown a chair at a nurse, he wasn't really sure. It was just a blur of bright sights and desperate gags, the warmth of Tondra's body falling against him when they had entered before lingering.

"You had done everything you could have," The Doctor had said, his voice low.

This happened a lot, they were probably used to it. Papyrus should have been used to the pain, too, but it still felt new. His chest was on fire, each bone burning with a sense of self hatred.

He could see the room of which Tondra had been taken to, the edges of her feet sticking out of the bed. They would be moving her soon, the white blanket covering her entire body. He could remember holding her limp hand before they took him away, Leonie struggling to follow the Doctors into the room.

They were still in there, the one's writing down on clipboards. Maybe they were just writing down her miraculous recovery! Maybe she was sitting up, the front half of her was hidden by the wall. Papyrus didn't screw up again, he really didn't want to screw up again.

Leonie's wails continued next to him, Papyrus hugging her closer. Everything hurt. His soul ached, and his eye sockets felt tired. He could practically hear the flat line, and the cars of the others driving closer to inevitably find out the truth.

"The Anaphylaxis reaction was fast, she should have kept her epinephrine injector on her." The doctors voice sounded distant, his hand on Papyrus' shoulder feeling like a dead weight. "We tried to save her, I'm very sorry for your loss."

In the other room, the other Doctor's voices sounded. They sounded thick and bored, yet remorseful. As the Doctor next to Papyrus had said, it was always the worst when teenagers and children died.

"Time of death, 12:34..."