Chapter Text
Sans was walking along a familiar and well used path in Snowdin; snowflakes falling softly around him. He took a deep breath and felt the chill through his bones, shuddering in a calm manner. This particular post was at the edge of town surrounded by a deep and dark forest; tall thin trees without any sign of bloom. It was always quiet and Sans had grown accustomed to the silence although he never trusted it. Sans was on the way back to his sentry booth when he heard a very odd noise. It was a loud metallic groaning like metal giving way to a weight it could no longer hold. He spun around to look behind him and to his utter surprise he saw the door to the Ruins creaking open. His eye burned red as he ducked into the nearest set of trees carefully watching for what appeared from the doorway. He could barely make out a silhouette but he immediately knew what it was.
“A human” Sans breathed.
Sans waited and watched as the figure slowly walked up the path still unable to make any physical sense of the entity, Sans edged closer to the path waiting for the courage to confront the human. Suddenly he heard his brother’s voice
‘What are you waiting for you coward! Capture the filthy human!’ Sans’ hand trembled as he grabbed his bare skull trying to block out the intrusive voice.
“I can do this, I- I won’t let you down…”
An impulsive boldness overtook Sans as he jumped into the path of the human making the intruder stop immediately.
“Do you know where the fuck you are, kid?”
No answer. Sans’ delayed fear washed over him as he realized although only a few feet away from this human, he could still not make out any distinct features.
“SANS don’t disappoint me, SANS capture the human; SANS what are you waiting for!”
Sans felt Papyrus behind him like an all-encompassing shadow slowly smothering Sans in his judgement. Sans felt his body seize as sweat began to form, he felt cold and afraid begging for his body to move.
“SANS you fool, SANS you will pay for this weakness!”
Suddenly Sans felt a sharp pain on the side of his face and he jerked back and fell into a soft pile of snow. He opened his eyes and realized he had fallen off a chair, with Papyrus standing over him scowling.
“W-where am I?” Sans asked
“At your sentry point, you’re sleeping on the job; AGAIN!” Papyrus glowered.
“I- there was a human! At the door-”
“A human?!” Papyrus stormed off in the direction of the door to the Ruins before stopping abruptly. Sans got up, the left side of his face hurt and he grabbed the edge of the counter at the sentry booth.
“Sans, what exactly did the human look like?”
“I-I couldn’t make out anything… I think maybe it was a dream.” Sans rubbed his face wearily.
“Of course it was a dream you idiot!” Papyrus walked back towards Sans, who was still standing dumbfounded on the inside of the counter at the sentry post.
“I swear Jerry could do a better job than you.” Papyrus exasperated as he grabbed the furry collar of San’s black jacket and pulled him over the counter. Sans struggled to find his footing to avoiding falling face first into the snow again continuing to fight to walk right while Papyrus held him by the collar silently.
“Boss-”
“Don’t.”
Sans hurried his steps as he tried to stop his shaky breaths. Eventually they reached the edge of town only passing a few houses before Papyrus’ body tensed and his grip on Sans’ collar tightened. They both stopped walking with Sans only being a step or two behind Papyrus; He spun around his eyes dark with a festering rage. Sans barely glanced up at his brother’s eyes before looking away clenching his teeth and using every ounce of his being to not look as scared as his soul screamed he was.
“Look at me you pestilent cretin.”
Sans flinched at the harsh words as he reluctantly met eyes with his beloved brother.
“Boss please you gotta believe me I didn’t mean-”
“I said don’t! I don’t have time for your worthless excuses. Stop looking so pathetic, you’ll get killed for that.” Papyrus glanced to his left and saw a group of younger recruits eyeing the situation closely. Sans looked as well seeing the carnivorous hunger in their eyes, like a pack of wild animals waiting to strike. Sans tried his best to hold back as his whole body trembled, he would not be seen as weak; he couldn’t.
‘I’m okay’ Sans thought to himself finding comfort in the way his skull burned from the intensity of keeping his eye red; ready to summon gaster blasters at the snap of his fingers. Papyrus turned back to his brother, a tasteless grin creeping on his face, Sans knew it was his face he used when addressing people with his title; Papyrus, Captain of The Royal Guard.
“I’m tired of your insolence, Sans. You need to be toughened up and I know just the thing.”
“What do you mean Boss?”
“You’re weak because I’m too protective of you. From this very hour until 8 a.m. tomorrow you’re on your own.
“W-what?”
Papyrus stuck his chest out and loudly proclaimed
“Yes that’s right, for the next 12 hours I will not be around to protect you!”
“And if you even try coming home for anything; you’ll be killed before you reach our front step.” This Papyrus whispered, leaning in to Sans’ face. Sans gulped audibly, He was all too well aware of how the entirety of Underfell wanted him dead.
“Paps don’t! I’m sorry it won’t happen again, I’m so sorry please don’t-”
Sans grabbed the frayed edges of his brother’s scarf unable to hold back his desperation. Immediately his hands were torn away and a forceful push sent him to the ground, Sans’ head hitting a brick wall of an old building.
“Let’s see how you make it” were the last words Sans heard before everything went black.
The first thing Sans noticed was sound, a slight breeze whooshing along the sides of his skull and in the distance footsteps crunching in the snow. He noticed how heavy his body felt and a throbbing in his skull. He struggled to bring a hand to his face as he slowly opened his eyes. He began to remember the events that brought him here; Papyrus scolding him, getting back to Snowdin, their fight.
‘For the next 12 hours I will not be around to protect you’
‘You’ll be killed before you reach our front step’
Sans clenched his teeth and breathed in deep. He got up bracing himself against the wall and waited for the tightness in his chest to subside.
‘I will not panic.’
Sans looked around seeing the ‘night’ crowd had barely begun, no one was staring at him maliciously; obviously word hadn’t gotten around yet. Sans quickly decided to go to the next safest place besides home; Grillby’s. He forced himself to walk straight, never looking a soul in the eye; his own was burning with the intent to strike down anyone who got too close. Sans was angry, pissed at his brother, pissed at himself, pissed at the entirety of existence as he knew it. The thing he hated most was how the rage in his chest was always stifled by the darkness behind his eyes
‘Maybe I don’t wanna survive the night’ the thought flashed through his mind without his permission. Sans visibly sneered and shoved the thought back into the depths of his skull
“Fuck that, I need a fucking drink.”
He pushed the door open haphazardly, feigning confidence as he fought through the knots in his ribcage. The crowd’s hum barely lowered as most patrons ignored his presence and he made his way to his usual bar stool; Grillby approached with his usual air of calm and collected waiting patiently for the order.
“Get me a drink on the rocks, something dark and hard.” With a quick nod he was off and Sans quietly sighed and looked at the clock on the wall to his far left
‘…until 8 a.m. tomorrow you’re on your own’
It was only six minutes past ten. Sans turned his attention back to the bar counter just as his drink was set down, one shot of dark amber liquid dancing around the ice cubes that kept it chilled. Sans wasn’t a hard liquor drinker but he knew what a shot was and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna do tonight. Grillby was walking away when he heard the familiar sound of an empty glass knocking against his wooden counter; he turned around to see his most devoted customer staring at him with half lidded eyes.
“This is gonna be a long night for you if I keep getting shots buddy.”
Grillby stared an extra beat before grabbing the bottle and pouring in the liquor until the glass was two thirds full, the ice now swimming in a sea of the harsh liquid.
“Better” Sans pulled the drink back towards him staring briefly into his reflection, seeing his sunken sleep deprived eyes. He immediately wanted to smash the glass; instead he took another small sip and breathed deeply as he felt the burn be absorbed into his soul. Grillby was still watching him making Sans shift in his seat nervously
“W-what the fuck are you-” suddenly Grillby swiped the yellow condiment container off the bar top.
“What- aw come on Grillz! I’m gonna get snack-ish y’know” Sans leaned heavily on the counter as if this somehow bettered his odds at getting the bottle back; Grillby answered by throwing a to-go packet of mustard hitting Sans square in the forehead.
“Asshole” sans muttered as he stuffed the packet into his sweater pocket.
Sans looked around the bar, to his left in the upper corner was Alphy’s crew. The worst thing you could do was underestimate these seemingly passive scientists. Although quiet and usually keeping to themselves these freaks were nothing less than sadistic masterminds. They were like shadows, either hiring other gangs for their dirty work or setting up malicious traps which if you found yourself in one, it was already too late. Their ‘subjects’ went through torture and the lucky ones were those who had no trace of themselves left when they finished. It wasn’t uncommon for Snowdin’s crew to perform a ‘mercy killing’ on their members who managed to survive whatever hell they were put through; their minds so shattered from the experience there’s almost nothing left but their hoarse screams. San’s learned from them that you never have to be directly threatening to be the scariest being in the room.
Towards the bottom sitting at the tables closest to the door was Undyne’s crew, from Waterfall. Boisterous and aggressive these guys were known to fight first and ask questions later, while laughing the whole time. The Waterfallen have thick accents from having their own native language which was a huge advantage on the battlefield, also making their membership exclusive to those from the area. Papyrus had actually gone out of his way to learn the language after he made captain, earning him respect from those in the Royal Guard who resided in Waterfall. These monsters may have been old-fashioned in how they ran their group but that never made them any less formidable. Their sheer berserk rage was something of a legend; everyone knows the story of the Waterfall crew from the Old Days who took on both Snowdin and Hotland. With half the monster power and managed to break enemy lines only stopping when Hotland came up with a territorial truce that still holds to this day.
Lastly, taking up the two booths to Sans’ right was Snowdin’s crew, his crew. Known for using any environment to their advantage; didn’t matter if the enemy had their home turf- this crew used it better. It never seemed to matter what kind of shit storm they were caught in, they always got out with an inexplicable ability to endure. Snowdin’s reputation was on the rise with the knighting of Papyrus; the other two major gangs coming to them more frequently for ‘services’ because of Papyrus’ high political status within the monarchy. Although one of the oldest gangs in all of Underfell, Snowdin’s name had been tarnished over the last decade by poor leaders who were short sighted and greedy. Papyrus’ rise was more than stroke to his ego; it was going to change the course of how Snowdin was viewed by every last monster in Underfell. A pressure Sans was all too aware that Papyrus felt, he often thought that was why he was so hard on Sans.
His second glass was a little over half empty when he glanced at his crew again. They knew what was up, they had their orders. Their backs were turned to Sans not one making eye contact or even acknowledging his existence. Good little soldiers; He couldn’t blame them because he would’ve done the same. Disobeying an order from Papyrus was as good as a death sentence, in most cases it was a death sentence. Still just because he couldn’t blame them doesn’t mean he wasn’t feeling a seething hatred. Just then, as if on cue both booths got up and started leaving for the door Sans bore his hatred into their backs as they filed out.
“Yea fuck you too” Sans whispered
A young recruit struggled to grab whatever was left behind in one of the booths. Sans watched slightly bemused by their grand fight.
‘To think, you’re gonna be a stone cold killer one day’ Sans chuckled to himself.
The recruit managed to recover the item and as they stood up stretching they made eye contact with Sans. He put on a bitter grin nodding a silent hello with a side of ‘I dare you to speak to me grunt.’ Fear flashed over their pale features and they hurriedly turned their back and left the bar, Sans shook his head. He knew that it wasn’t a coincidence that they all left, it was a deliberate message. Not to Sans but to the other two gangs at the bar. ‘We received word and as far we are concerned he is a stranger; we see nothing.’ This likely meant that the other two groups had also received word of this exile and with eight hours left to his punishment his life was now in significant danger.
Sans knew the liquor was hitting hard because upon this realization he decided to call for one more drink. His skull was starting to perspire, beads of sweat gathering in the crook of his brow but he was numbed. He felt tingly in the depth of his chest, instead of the usual spiking pain that accompanied his overwhelming sense of doom. Sans’ drink was delivered, significantly less full than his previous two glasses; he decided not to argue. Sans reached for his glass noticing the way his hand shook, he frowned disapprovingly and laid his arm on the table to attempt to control it.
He choked down his drink as his brother forced himself to the front of his thoughts. He loved his brother dearly despite all violence that occurred between them. For a long time Sans believed that somewhere deep down Papyrus loved him too, that no matter what they were brothers and not even this hell could break their bond. Now he wasn’t so sure, his devotion to his brother only brought pain, manipulation and ultimately this, being a set example for nameless faces that very well could end up dead in less than a year.
Sans sighed and fumbled to get off the stool, holding the bar for support as he found his footing. Grillby reached for his empty glass as he watched Sans’ every move; with one foot slowly in front of the other Sans made it to the door of the bar. He turned his skull to the right side of the room fabricating his infamous grin, gold tooth sparkling as it caught the light in the area. Without a word he walked out of the bar.