Chapter Text
You'd wanted to get away from everything, but fuck, this wasn't how you'd thought it would go.
You huffed as you hiked up the mountain trail, unused to the terrain, or, let's be honest, the amount of exercise involved. Still, it was better than back there. Job, coworkers, family, even close friends all felt like too much right now. The last month - year, really - had just been too much, and you needed a break, god damn it. Breakups, apartment issues, job changes - how can you fire someone for not doing their "entire job" if you never actually told them there was more to do? - and subsequent struggles to find a new job (you've gotten so very tired of hearing "I'm sorry, but we just don't think you're a good fit", or worse, hearing nothing at all), and did you mention heartbreak yet?
You felt so battered and beaten by the entire world around you, and you were tired. Tired of feeling like you didn't belong, and that any time you tried to belong, you got hurt. Tired of trying to be kind, and having it used against you. Honestly, the whole "aren't you tired of being nice? don't you just wanna go apeshit?" meme was starting to sound more and more appealing by the day, but you didn't exactly want to catch a felony by indulging in the urge.
So here you were instead. Climbing a mountain, looking for a campsite, with a fuck-ton of supplies in a fuck-off huge pack on your back that threatened to flip you backwards if you didn't strain the abs you barely possessed to keep you leaned forward. At least at some point, you'd found a nice stick to brace yourself on as you hiked. That made things slightly easier.
...
The sun was nice, though. You couldn't actually remember the last time you'd been able to enjoy it like this. Or flowers blooming, or the birds singing, or... Well. You just hadn't been out much, is the point. You look around as you pause to catch your breath, feeling a little bit of weight lift off of your battered soul as you take in the scenery. It was... well, beautiful. The sea of treetops below you at the base of the mountain seemed to go on forever, the sun slowly sinking it's way towards them. You probably had 3 or 4 hours left to find and set up a camp, so you didn't feel too rushed yet, but after a few minutes to appreciate the scenery and let your lungs no longer feel like they're burning with cold fire, you turn back to the trail again, looking around as you walk.
~***~
As luck would have it, you chanced across a gap in the trees right as dusk began to settle, and you rush towards it eagerly, anxious to get your tent set up and rest your feet at long last. You bat away a few stray branches and brambles in your way as you head in - you'll have to check those brambles in the morning to see if they might be raspberry canes, wild raspberries are amazing - and heave your overburdened pack off of your back and onto a fallen log, clawing around inside of it until you find the tent roll and tug it out. You set to work, struggling a bit with getting the tent rods put together and lined up correctly, but taking great joy in venting some frustrations on the tent spikes as you hammer them into the ground - this bad boy ain't succumbing to high winds, not on you or your repressed anger's watch. Once you got that handled, you went digging in your pack again, tossing your rolled up sleeping bag through the door of the tent as you search for the food you'd packed. Eventually, you find it, immediately shoving some dried fruits and nuts in your mouth as you sit on the log next to your pack, fishing out your water bottle as well to help wash it all down. There's a mess of scattered supplies on the ground in front of your pack from your hurried rummaging, but you couldn't care less right now. Trail rations have never tasted so good, and you're not sure if it's the work it took to get here making you so hungry, the location itself, or something else, but the mixture of sweet chewy fruit and crunchy nuts seems almost magical on your tongue. The water feels more refreshing than usual, too, and you have to remind yourself to not chug it all down at once - you only have so much, and you'd yet to find a stream you can refill from and toss some purifying tablets in.
After you take your minute to recuperate, you look around, finally noticing the darkness that's begun encroaching all around you, and you hurriedly scoop together your things to toss them in the tent, zipping the tent flap shut behind you and squinting in the dim lighting as you set up your sleeping bag, eventually curling up inside of it. You turn your head slightly, staring through the ceiling of your tent - you were glad you got one of the ones with a clear plastic roof - to stare at the slightly plastic-distorted stars. It wasn't as good as a totally unobstructed view, but... It was still good.
Yeah... This was good.
... You were starting to realize you didn't know how to handle good anymore. Your shoulders were tense, and some random back corner of your mind was still waiting on hearing the next bad thing to come calling, someone to tell you you were actually a horrible no good person for a miscommunication they started, for another job to call you back saying you weren't a good fit, for something to go wrong again. You couldn't relax, even though your body was exhausted and craving rest, your mind was merrily tangoing with your anxiety and doing fancy little twirls and dips towards a spiral you'd been trying to avoid for who knows how long now, and you were not happy about it.
So you sigh, roll over towards your pack one more time, and dig out the melatonin gummies you'd stowed away - "Just in case," you'd said to yourself - and shook out an amount that was probably just a little bit over the recommended dose, popping the strawberry flavored gummies in your mouth and drawing out your phone, glad to see it still had a decent charge, and opening it to play a mindless game while you waited for the gummies to kick in so you didn't have to worry about thinking too much.
Eventually, sleep takes you, and for once, you don't dream of falling.
~***~
When you wake up, you realize that you've slept in for the first time since who knows when. With nothing demanding your attention, no reason to set an alarm at buttfuck'o'clock in the morning, you've finally got some rest for once, and you feel... Maybe not perfect, but ok. And ok is very refreshing in the face of all the Not Ok you've been lately, so you'll take it. There's a rock you hadn't noticed before digging into your back, though, so you should probably get up.
As you step out of the tent, you get to view the clearing you've set up in in all it's daylight glory, and you stand stock-still as you stare around, taking in the way the tree leaves glow green-gold from underneath as the sunlight filters through them, the brilliantly blue sky, the way the air up here is so clean the breeze feels like it glides over you like cool silk, the bell-like birdsong ringing through the air, the grass under your toes since you hadn't put on your shoes yet...
Jesus Christ, this place is fucking gorgeous.
Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, though. A cave. Just opposite of where you'd entered the clearing, in fact. A familiar knot of anxiety settles itself somewhere that's not quite your chest, but not quite your stomach either, as you realize that the cave could have held a bear or something, and you were lucky to have gone the night undisturbed. You... You should probably check it out, make sure there's no signs of wildlife in there and that you'll be safe camping here.
So, you dip back into the tent, slip on your socks and shoes, and retrieve your pack and walking stick (Should you name it? You kinda feel like naming it) to avoid losing either to anything while you're gone, and begin to make your way into the cave.
...
It's dark. You've barely gone 10 feet in and it's dark as hell in here. But at least you haven't seen any animal tracks or anything yet, so that's good - it settles the anxiety, somewhat. Only a little though - the dark is slowly encroaching on what little relief you'd gained. Still, you press forward - you'd really rather be sure that your chosen campsite is safe, and that you don't have to pack up and move. Finding another site would be a hassle, but so would be getting harassed by hungry animals. You forge your way forward, slowly becoming more and more blind, despite your attempts to squint through the darkness. The faint drip of water encourages you to keep going, however - a source of water would be an excellent thing to have so close by, even if the way to get there was a little sketchy.
You never get to find the water, though.
One moment, your feet and walking stick are tapping and crunching steadily against stone and gravel, and the next, you're falling down in the darkness, and for a split second you wonder if you ever really woke up because of how much it feels like your usual dreams about falling. You're quickly snapped out of that thought, though, as a stray root - branch? - whips across your cheek as you plummet, and you wince, before the realization hits you in full force causing you to scream. You flail about blindly as the darkness rushes past you, trying to find something, anything, to break your fall, but nothing is there. The wind rushing past you stings your eyes and makes them water, and you pray to whatever god is listening that the bottom of this pit is either hard enough to kill you instantly, or soft enough that you'll survive with minimal injuries.
None must have been listening, though, because when you hit the bottom, you're knocked unconscious immediately.
~***~
Sans was used to his brother shouting at him. What he wasn't used to, was that particular sentence being shouted at him.
"READY THE DUNGEON, YOU LAZY OAF. I HAVE FINALLY CAPTURED A HUMAN!"
"... what."
"DO NOT PRETEND TO BE DEAF WITH ME, SANS, I KNOW YOU HEARD ME VERY WELL. GO GET IT READY, NOW."
The "dungeon", of course, was really just a shitty spare bedroom with bars on the window, extra locks on the door, and an enchanted leash and collar hooked into the ceiling that could only be reached by Papyrus's height, and unlocked by the signature of his or Sans' magic. A special item that Papyrus had invested in, for his goal of capturing a human, one that Sans had originally thought a waste - though it was a thought he kept to himself - but was apparently now proving worth it.
"uh... sure thing, boss. anything in particular i should be keepin' in mind?"
"THE HUMAN IS INJURED FROM HER FALL. DO TRY TO MAKE THE BED AT LEAST HALFWAY DECENTLY SO HER BANDAGES ARE NOT DISTURBED, I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO DO THEM AGAIN. ALSO, SHE FELL IN WITH A BAG. PUT HER THINGS AWAY."
"oh, a lady huh...? c'mon, lemme see-"
"NOW, SANS."
"right, right. my bad, boss."
Sans scooped up the sizable pack that Papyrus kicked towards him, then shortcut his way to the "dungeon", dumping the contents of the bag onto the bed unceremoniously and looking them over with a critical eye. A camper, clearly - a few changes of clothes, some water bottles, opened bags of dried foods, a lighter - he'll be confiscating that, actually - a couple tin dishes, cups and pots and such, the melatonin gummies, a pocket knife - ah, can't let her keep that either - and... a walking stick, apparently. He wasn't sure what to do with that, so he elected to leave it be for now, pocketing his contraband that he totally wasn't going to keep for himself. He let out a grumbling sigh as he looked over the rest, begrudgingly beginning the process of stuffing away the clothes in the ratty dresser, putting the water bottles and snacks on top, the melatonin gummies on the nightstand, and... Well, he guesses the stick is fine to just lean up in the corner. The tinware, he'll haul off to the kitchen - it's meant for going directly in a campfire, so who knows, maybe it'll withstand Papyrus's flame-boyant cooking style. A quick glance confirms the bed is slightly rumpled from his somewhat passable organizing of the humans things, but nothing he thinks will land him a night in the shed instead of the couch.
Satisfied, he kicks the now-empty pack under the bed, and begins carrying the tinware out to the kitchen.
Halfway there, as he's cutting through the living room, he finally got his first look at the human, who'd been laid out across the couch by Papyrus who was currently nit-picking over the state of her bandages. He paused, eyelights sharpening to keen pinpricks of red as he looked her over.
... Shit, she looked like hell. Aside from the bandages his brother was covering her in, the skin under her eyes seemed sunken and bruised, like she'd never gotten very good sleep for a long while, and even unconscious there seemed to be a sort of tension in her shoulders that never faded, a furrow in her brow that had carved itself a home. Her skin seemed pallid, like she'd been away from the sun for a long time, too.
... It was uncomfortable, and Sans couldn't help but turn away, moving a little faster towards the kitchen than he had been before. He dumped the tinware in the sink with a clatter, staring at the new-ish dishes as he tried to pinpoint why seeing her condition bothered him the way it had. His thoughts were soon interrupted though, as his brothers voice shot through him with it's familiar barbed edge.
"IS THERE ANY PARTICULAR REASON WHY YOU'VE DECIDED TO THROW THINGS SO FUCKING LOUD?"
"eh. guess i was jus' tin the mood."
"I WILL PUT YOU IN THE SHED."
"sorry, boss. anyways, i got the room set up, just like ya asked. these were just in the mix."
He jutted his chin towards the dishes as he spoke, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and relaxing again, finding familiarity in the banter, easing his mind away from the troubling thoughts he'd been having about the human. Papyrus gave a begrudging grunt of acknowledgement, turning on his heel to exit the kitchen again.
"FINE. I WILL PLACE THE HUMAN IN THE DUNGEON, THEN."
Sans trails behind as Papyrus marches over to the couch, scooping up the unconscious human and continuing his brisk walk to the "dungeon", where he eventually semi-gently dumped the human on the bed, then retrieved the enchanted collar, a spark of vermillion magic triggering the collar to pop open, which was then closed around the humans neck. A brief sheen of red glistens across the engravings that hold the enchantment as the collar locks itself again around the humans neck, the leash hanging slack over the edge to the bed, nearly touching the floor before slowly curving back up to the ceiling again where it was clipped to the anchor hook.
It was just in time, too, because you were waking up, and the first thing you did upon opening your eyes to see two strange skeletons towering over you in a strange bed inside a strange room, was to immediately plaster yourself to the wall, the walking stick somehow finding it's way into your hands as you brandished it to keep these unfamiliar figures back.
"Who are you and what the fuck do you want with me??"
"SIMPLE. YOU, HUMAN, ARE NOW OUR PET."
"Your fucking WHAT?"
"... well. this'll be interesting..."