Once Killer heard his footsteps get farther away, he moved onto his back again.

Yet another dream of them, huh? Yet another damn dream. Why were dreams like this? Why did they make it so hard to move on? 

He took a deep breath again, because he wanted to scream.

Honestly, a part of him missed seeing Nightmare too. It was horrible. Attacking him in his dream didn't even help. He thought he’d feel satisfaction, catharsis, anything else, but no, he just felt like shit the whole time.

It didn't help that Nightmare just accepted it, like that's what he wanted.

It seemed like some part of his subconscious was still convinced that apology was genuine.

What if it was?

He willed himself up and walked to the kitchen, not wanting to dwell on a stupid dream anymore.

Killer was really lucky Blue was a competent cook. It's been so long since…well actually these are the first good home-cooked meals he's had ever. He doesn't think he's had french toast before actually. It's not exactly something you could buy premade at the grocery store like waffles. He preferred this definitely, especially with the chopped strawberries and banana slices Blue added on top. The only drawback was that he had to eat it quick enough before the bread got too soggy and became gross clumps.

Overall, it was a satisfying meal. They cleaned up their mess and moved back to the living room.

Alas, Blue decided to bring up those surveys he’s filled out. Straight to business now, huh? At least it took his mind off of the dream he had.

“So those surveys have given me some pretty helpful insight on you for your first therapy session. I was wondering when you wanted to do that.”

“i thought we’ve already had at least one session.”

Blue kept his mouth shut until he trusted himself to not chortle. This wasn't funny, but wow did Killer have a very loose grasp on what a therapy session is like. “Nnnno. Not really.”

“what have we been doing, then?” He hasn't had a single session? Really? He could've sworn at least one of their conversations counted. He's opened up to Blue a few times, which was hard enough. He was concerned about how difficult getting through an actual session would be.

“Don't worry, you’ve still been making progress. I’ve just been trying to help you get acquainted with your new home. Can't just jump straight into sessions when you're unfamiliar with everything,” Blue explained.

Killer sighed. Whether out of relief or because of the revelation of how slow he's been making progress, he wasn't sure. “could we have a session now, then?”

Blue looked surprised. “Oh, really?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “yeah why not? not like i have anything better to do.”

“Huh,” Blue looked to the direction of Hearts’ room, “we should probably go to your place then. Feels more private, y’know?”

“the hotel room.”

“yeah?”

“the hotel room feels more private?”

“Right. Uhh, would my room be fine?”

Killer shrugged once more. Was he supposed to have a preference? He just wanted to make sure no one would be able to listen in. “as long as that robot doesn't hear.”

They moved to his room. Blue assured him that Hearts was out of the house. Something about Ink taking him somewhere, he didn't really care for the specifics.

His room in this house was relatively similar to the other one, except it felt like things were shifted a bit to the left. It was a tad odd, but Killer didn't question it. Yet somehow it felt like this room felt more fitting for Blue than the other one.

Unlike the other room, there was a little setup in the corner of the room—two bean bags with a small coffee table between them. Which was nice, he didn't think he could take the therapy session seriously while Blue sat on his rocket ship bed.

He took a seat, trying to get comfortable as Blue did too, clipboard in hand.

“So, any topics you wanna bring up or should I start from your test results?”

“oh, uh,” he scratched the back of his skull, “you should start with the results. i don't really know what to bring up.”

Blue shifted through the papers on his clipboard. “Right, a lot of these surveys were general mental health assessments and I think it's fair to say you're not doing too hot.”

Killer snorted.

“But has it always been like this?”

Oh right. He has to talk about things. Darn.

He considered his question. He felt like shit and has been having trouble doing basically anything recently. But compared to his time under Nightmare, things have been consistently comfortable. There's no stressful situations to go through, he didn't have to worry about running out of resources before the next time Nightmare decided to take them on a supply run, and he didn't have to worry about danger in general.

That wasn't even touching on his time before Nightmare.

“well, i’m doing better in comparison to the past, i think? it's weird. this place is safer than anywhere else i’ve lived, yet i’m still doing bad.”

“Hey, you're not doing bad,” Blue said softly. “You can't just expect to get immediately better after all you've went through. You still gotta heal from it.” He jotted something down on the clipboard.

Killer groaned, “how?”

“Figuring out what you're healing from in the first place is a good start. Is there anything in particular that's happened in the past that's stuck with you? Something that bothers you?”

He crossed his arms, shifting around on the beanbag. He tried thinking about anything besides Dusk. He knew he had other problems besides their break, they wouldn't be on one in the first place if he didn't. After a bit of silence, his hands tightened on his sleeves. “there was this time the—this thing chased me when nightmare made us go in the forest in the dark. for some reason when it got close i couldn't control my body anymore. and i thought i was gonna die. but that happened awhile back, i haven't seen that thing ever since.”

Blue gave him a quizzical look, “And ‘that thing’ isn't Nightmare?”

“nah, no. he looked thrown off when he saw me after that.”

“Was this the only time you encountered this thing?”

Killer slumped back more into the chair. “no. i think that was…” his face scrunched up, “i don't think you're gonna understand. it's not a normal tangible thing. i’m just gonna sound crazy.”

“Killer, it's alright. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to help.”

A beat of quiet.

“Can you try explaining it so I can understand?”

He sighed and straightened up. “in my universe, there was this thing—it had control over the world. it could change things so easily.” He kept track of Blue’s expression as he talked. “it changed me. took control of me too for god knows how long. i was like it's damn puppet. i couldn't do anything but sit there and watch it do whatever it wanted for years. then nightmare came, that's when it went away.”

Blue was staring at him in shock, like he expected. He was covering his mouth and all. He jotted something down again.

Killer threw his head back to rest against the beanbag, closing his sockets. “yeah, unbelievable. i know.”

Blue nearly jumped out of his seat as he shouted, “No! I believe you! I just didn't expect—you aren't like the other Sanses from universes like yours.”

Killer's head jerked back up. “there's other universes like mine?”

Blue nodded, “Ink calls them ‘Something New’ universes. There's a few of them in the multiverse.”

Killer looked dumbfounded, until he remembered something Nightmare said.

I wonder. Do you think you three were the first ones?

…Right.

“So, this thing. It's the anomaly of your universe, right?”

He hesitated to nod, not expecting Blue to know about that. He probably should've. He was a Sans too, it was likely he had an anomaly of his own in his universe—except his universe seemed to be entirely blank besides this house.

…Ah geez, what's the chance that's a result of something his anomaly did?

“It's unusual. The player usually doesn't take control of the Sans, I didn't know they were even able to do that,” Blue murmured, mostly to himself. “If you don't mind me asking, how did they take control of you? or…” he wiggled the pen in his hand, “how did it feel?”

Killer grimaced as he recalled his body being puppeted without his say. “i don't know how they took control. it's been too long to remember, but i remember exactly how it felt. it's like when someone picks up your arm and moves it around, except you can't stop them.” He demonstrated by grabbing his arm with the other one and moving it around.

Blue kept his eyelights trained on his clipboard. “so you were entirely lucid while it was happening?”

He put his arms back down, resting them against the bean bag. “yep.”

Blue cleared his throat. “That's horrible.”

“yep.”

“So you saw it outside of your universe?”

“i think i did? i don't know what else it could've been, but i feel like i should've seen it more often if it was.”

Blue hummed thoughtfully. “Ink told me there's never been a time where an anomaly has left their universe…and if you only saw it that one time, it's likely it was something else. You wouldn't happen to experience hallucinations, would you?”

Hallucinations? He didn't hallucinate, he thought. Dusk did. He and Sans were quick to learn that with how often he reacted to nothing. If he hallucinated surely it would've been more obvious. “no?” he said, uncertain. The moment it slipped out of his mouth he realized he didn't exactly know how to tell when something's a hallucination. It would make sense if that’s what the encounter with the anomaly was. After all, the moment Nightmare entered his universe, the presence of the anomaly was gone in an instant. “i’m not sure.”

“I see,” more writing, “either way they bring you a lot of stress, huh?”

“probably. i haven't actually thought about it that much recently, but yeah having my free will stripped away from me for so long kinda fucked me up i guess.” He tilted his head, “you think this is why i’m like this?”

“Like what, exactly?”

Oh, of course he’ll make him spell it out for him. He should've known. “messed up, fucked in the head, annoying, a piece of shit, clingy,” he stressed that last word. “there, happy? you already know how much i hate myself, what’s more evidence gonna do?”

Blue gave him a soft look, one of pity. “did the anomaly…talk to you, when they controlled you?”

Like a wave crashing, his mind helpfully reminded him of all of that. All of what he's ignored for quite some time. All of what's been at the corner of his vision at every moment, haunting him. A laugh slipped out of him as he hugged himself like he was trying to shrink. “boy, did they.”

Blue frowned. He hesitated as he asked, “anything they said or did that stuck with you?”

A tremble wracked through his body. Rotten determination started flowing. Oh ok, he wasn't liking this apparently. Was this seriously too much for him? The mere thought of them?

He was gonna throw up.

Luckily, Blue took precaution for something like this. He got up and handed him a bucket.

He hovered a hand by his back, as if he was going to pat him, but retracted it a moment later and sat back down. He opted to comfort him through words instead, a gesture Killer was grateful for. “They're not here anymore. They can't get to you.”

Killer put the bucket aside, making a mental note to remember it's there so he doesn't kick it later when standing up. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “god, hah, i didn't know they were such a sore topic for me.”

“You may be, and I’m just assuming here, repressing a memory, which is why it doesn't feel as sensitive as it is.”

Killer gritted his teeth. “repressing?”

“It's when the mind locks up a traumatic memory in an attempt to protect itself.”

“oh, great. so you're telling me there's more and i’m just forgetting it? they made me kill my brother—all those monsters—and called me useless for being unable to stop them, if i remember that, what could they possibly have done that was too 'traumatic’?”

Blue paused to think, tapping his foot on the ground as he did. “Well…I can think of some things but I don't wanna get it wrong. There is a way to see for sure, though.”

Killer cocked his head, “how?”

The two of them ended up going to the lab in The Hub. Blue opened the door with a keycard and guided Killer over to the chair while turning on the machine.

“you’ve been pretty vague about what that machine does. i don't understand how a hunk of machinery can uncover memories,” he said as he sat down.

“Well, I don't really wanna drop a bomb on you right now but, if you really want to know…” he trailed off, reluctant to elaborate.

Killer narrowed his sockets. “woah, what kind of bomb we talking about here?”

“Uhh, like an existential crisis bomb.”

Killer scoffed, “oh, dude, whatever then.” He waved his hand, “lay it on me.”

“Are you sure?”

“buddy, i probably already know what you're gonna talk about, actually. what? this thing read code?”

Blue’s sockets widened in shock, eyelights briefly going out. “Um, yeah. How much do you know exactly about that stuff?”

He rolled his ringed eyelights. “the player of the game i was in was controlling me. you think they spared me from any knowledge about that?”

Blue winced. He probably should've anticipated that.

“i didn't know code shows a person's memory though.”

“Well, we call it ‘code’ but it doesn't exactly line up with actual coding, funnily enough. It's more flexible than that, especially when we're not in our original universes. It's more like a…script or log of someone's personality, memories, and appearance.”

“a script? why is it even possible to read something like that?”

Blue typed away at the keyboard as he explained, “Technically we're not supposed to be able to, only higher beings should be aware of it in the first place but, well. A monster got the ability to change code, we're not sure how he got this power in the first place, but we were able to make a machine of our own to undo most of the damage after Ink dealt with him. However, with the knowledge about code existing, scientific communities throughout the multiverse started going rampant trying to learn more about it. It's mostly theoretical for those guys though, you gotta have real specific skills to be able to make a machine like this.”

Killer hummed in acknowledgement. “So wouldn't that make you a monster that can change code too?”

Blue held his hands up in defense. “Oh, no, I don't know how to write code. I just know how to read it. Only Cross and XChara know how to write code with this.” He put a hand on his chin. “Actually, Epic knows how to read it too and he's been learning how to write code, but he can't completely wrap his head around it, despite making the machine.”

“epic? the monster cross tried to have us save but failed horribly and nearly got us killed?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, again. Also can you hold your arm out? I need to connect you to the machine.”

Hesitantly, Killer presented his arm to him.

Blue carefully attached the tube to his wrist, trying not to lift his sleeve higher than it had to be.

“it feels weird.”

“Are you good?”

“yeah, it doesn't hurt. it's just weird.” Somehow, he felt exposed. He didn't know if that's because he was aware he was attached to a machine that revealed everything about him or if it was how he'd feel anyway.

Blue looked back at the screen, scrolling through lines of text.

Killer couldn't get a good view of it from where he was seated so he didn't bother looking. He’ll just have to trust Blue.

“Oh.”

Oh??

Killer turned his head, looking concerned. “what do you mean ‘oh’? it's only been a minute.”

“It's, uh, a lot shorter than I thought it would be…” Blue’s eyelights flicked up and down as he scrolled, as if that’d make his code get any longer.

“uh. is that bad?”

“It's peculiar.” He brought up the file for an Undertale Sans’s code to compare—but something else caught his attention. Dusk’s code was recorded recently, and changed. He opened that up as well.

As expected, Dusk’s code was longer than Killer’s and was similar in length to a Sans from Undertale.

The machine helpfully highlighted the similar parts of all three of their codes. Notably, Killer’s code hardly had anything in common with Sans’, but a lot of it was in common with Dusk’s.

There were a few lines of code that were deleted from Dusk’s code recently, oh, it seems like Cross and Epic found the lines that gave him those “LV flares”. Interesting.

Killer had those exact lines too.

“you gonna explain anything you seeing or are you just gonna gawk at the screen?”

He over at Killer, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m just noticing that your code is pretty similar to Dusk’s.”

“huh.” He didn't know what to think about that. It made sense, probably? Considering both of them killed all those—

“But your kill count is a lot lower despite your LV’s being the same. You’ve only killed one person?”

Killer felt his soul pause. “what? what?! what do you mean i’ve only killed one person?”

“I-it says you’ve only killed one person and it was recently.”

Killer nearly stood up, only stopped because Blue opted to put a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated.

“You shouldn't stand up while you're attached to the machine,” he said.

“the machine is inaccurate. i’ve killed everyone in my underground. i’ve killed toriel, alphys, undyne, asgore. i’ve killed papyrus. everyone! one person my ass!” Killer hissed. He glared at Blue. “say it is accurate. what does that mean then?”

Blue froze, looking at Killer as he pieced it together. Code similar to Dusk’s—supposedly even copied and pasted onto Killer’s. Short code, missing a lot of code a Sans should have. Only one kill despite having the same LV as Dusk.

He looked back at the machine.

The screen showed it plain and simple.

There is no code that was deleted, despite how short it is.

His code wasn't altered, it was always that way. It was programmed that way from the beginning. Killer was never Sans—seemingly, Dusk's code was used as a base for his…They might've had the same player.

What the hell was he supposed to tell Killer?!

Blue couldn't hide his distraught expression as he looked back at Killer.

His underground was never filled with monsters. They, including his Papyrus, were only false memories.

He willed himself to speak. To explain. It felt like an unnecessary mercy killing. Did Killer need to know this?

Killer didn't interrupt him, not even once, listening with complete attention.

Then, the dam broke, tears muddied with rotten determination flowed out of his sockets. He didn't even bother trying to wipe them away.

This whole time. This whole time. Those memories of massacring the underground—of killing all his friends and family—were false?

All that guilt. All that time he spent hating himself for something that never even happened.

He didn't kill any of those monsters. He never killed his brother—he never even had a brother!

Oh god, he never had a brother. He never had friends. He never had a life until Nightmare kidnapped him and even then it hardly started until after he was discarded by him.

Blue brought him into a hug, like he always did when Killer needed it. He removed the wire connecting him to the machine at some point. Killer clung onto him like he was the only proof he was real.

In a multiverse made out of code, what did real mean anyway?

“Killer, I’m so sorry I didn't know it would turn out like this I didn't know it could. I thought this would help, I’m sorry.” He sounded so choked up.

He didn't need to apologize. He wasn't the one who made him like this. And it's better to learn this now than never, right?

“what the hell do i do now?” His voice was shaky and quiet.

“You don't need to do anything different.”

“it feels like i do.”

“What do you think you need to do?”

The question stumped him. “i don't—i don't know. reevaluate my entire life? forget everything that was fake?”

“You can still be ‘you’. You don't have to force anything.”

“what does being ‘me’ even mean? i haven't been a person for most of my goddamn life—if you can even call it that!” he yelled.

Blue patted him on the back. “You don't need to know the answer to that. It's okay not to know. It doesn't make you any less of a person.”

His hold on him remained. Blue could feel him trembling.

“was i just made to be someone's plaything? is that why—is that why i’m struggling so much to be a functioning monster?” he hiccuped.

It dawned on him.

“i wasn't made for this.”

Blue felt his soul drop. He brought his head back to look at Killer's face, keeping his arms wrapped around him. “Killer,” he said, “You're more than what you're made for, okay? It doesn't matter if we're made out of code, we aren't stagnant. We can change. We can grow.”

“you don't know that,” he replied quietly.

“I promise you, I do. My universe, you know how only my house was there?” he paused to take a breath, “The rest of it is gone, all of it, I’m the only thing left. I was supposed to leave with it, but Ink took me out of it before it tore apart. I know we can change. I wouldn't be here if we couldn't.”

He cupped Killer's cheeks with his hands and used his thumbs to wipe some of his tears. “You're here with me, okay?”

Killer paid attention to the feeling of Blue’s touch. He noticed that Blue’s gloves were off. He didn't catch when he took them off. He leaned against one of his hands, closing his sockets and soaking in the sensation.

He's here.

Killer laid down on his bed, limbs sprawled out on the mattress. That was. An exhausting first session. The silver-lining is that it'll probably be the most exhausting one, because what else could top learning that your past was all fake?

Geez. None of that was real, huh?

…It was funny, he immediately thought back to that game of Never Have I Ever that Nightmare forced them to play and that one question about killing their brothers. He never even needed to take that drink and get stabbed in the chest.

Well, at least he understood himself better, he supposed. Unfortunately, Blue suggested going back to that lab tomorrow with Cross to get some lines of his code tweaked. Something about getting rid of his urge to kill or whatever that's caused by his high LV. Apparently that's not a normal symptom of high LV, go figure.

Every day he questioned why he bothered. He had no reason to keep them alive. He initially picked these strays off the streets out of boredom, seeing if their emotions affected him or if it were only the emotions of humans and monsters that did. He was quick to learn that they did. So next he tested if his aura affected them. It did, but he had limited control on what it did. Usually it just made them aggressive.

And then he just kinda kept them around. Once Killer found them, he stopped taking care of them since he had that covered now.

Killer is gone now. He “killed” him.

He was supposed to “kill” these cats too.

But oh what a joy—he’d feel guilty if he did that!

It's obscene! All the things he’s done. All the things he does now and killing a few skeletons and cats is where he draws the line?

He's run cults, destroyed people's faith, caused famines, reignited wars!

He is the villain! Why can't he bring himself to do such a simple thing?

He is the Guardian of Negativity—what cruel being gave him the capacity for guilt in the first place? How is he supposed to act as a force when he isn't one?

He isn't supposed to have bias.

Yet he finds himself worrying about them uselessly. They will never know. They will never forgive him even if they knew. Nothing will come of this.

He often finds himself in Killer’s dreams.

He takes on a different form. He doesn't want Killer to recognize him. Unfortunately, his eye was an easy giveaway. For some godforsaken reason he can’t change it to look like normal deer eyes. He just hoped Killer chalked it up to typical dream nonsense.

They weren't aware of his ability to transverse dreams anyway.

He had the power to turn any of his dreams into nightmares, but he refrained from interfering with any of his dreams.

They were mostly incomprehensible, as dreams tend to be. Often people tried finding meaning in them, and while dreams were influenced by thoughts and what they've seen, dreams didn't tell you anything new. At least, anything new to the dreamer. He was able to catch a glimpse of how Killer’s been doing.

He didn't seem as happy as he expected him to be. He was free now. Free to do whatever he pleased. Yet most of his dreams were related to his time under Nightmare's control.

If he focused enough, he could sift through all of the emotions throughout the multiverse and still find the one’s belonging to Killer.

He found it crazy. He wasn't sure if he was just seeing what he wanted to see—did he even want to see this? Killer appeared to be doing worse ever since he evicted them.

That didn't make any sense. Ink told him they would be taken to “The Hub”, which he described as a sanctuary. Naturally, he should be happier.

His fear of Killer not being able to recover from what he's done violently resurfaced.

A shiver rippled throughout the slime coating his body.

Oh. He hasn't felt this strongly towards another person since…the first Killer escaped.

Sometimes he wondered how that one was doing. He’ll never have an answer for it, so it was a waste of time to. Yet he did it anyway.

Emotions make you do irrational things. Especially negative ones. He was painfully aware of that.

…

He wondered how his brother lived a life unable to feel negative emotions.

Did he yearn for them like he yearned to feel positive emotions?

No, he knew the answer to this one. He didn't, because he can't.

Longing; that's a negative emotion. He can't even long for what he doesn't have.

He noticed one of the cats wasn't eating. He looked around in a panic, only to see the missing cat lying down on the countertop.

Ah, the old calico.

He gave the old cat a head scratch. “Why aren't you eating?” he mused aloud. He didn't exactly know everything about cats, but he couldn't help but be alarmed.

Dream woke up, not remembering ever falling asleep.

Blue was right there at the edge of the bed. Worry was radiating off of him. Normally, that didn't affect him, but for some reason it stung right now. The relief upon seeing him awake quickly washed it away, fortunately.

“You're alright!” He sprung up onto the bed to give him a hug.

Warmth. It was nice. He didn't realize he was cold until now.

“I always am,” he replied. “What happened?”

Blue looked concerned. “You don't remember? You were badly hurt by—”

Dream woke up, not remembering ever falling asleep. Oh! A false awakening. He should've known. The Blue in that dream was the original one, who wasn't with them anymore because he became an error.

The current Blue was at the edge of the bed this time. He just woke up—that must've been his dream he was seeing.

He doesn't have his own dreams, after all. That would be like fire burning itself.

It would sound ridiculous to say that Dream dreamt!

…

Blue started crying in relief at the sight of him. “You're alive!” he croaked. He got closer, but he didn't spring onto him like the original Blue did in his dream. He was being careful, treating him like he was glass.

“What happened?” Dream asked.

Blue babbled, tears still flowing from his sockets as he tried forming a sentence.

Dream’s never seen him this shaken before. Usually he was so cheerful, even when bad things happened to him. It was when bad things happened to someone else that he was affected, but the only other person in this room was himself.

Why can't he remember what happened?

“Ink…Ink said th-that you—the balance—” he sniffed, “the balance got skewed to positive.”

Dream tilted his head, realizing his skull felt much lighter at the moment. “Wouldn't that be a good thing?” That’s been his goal his whole life, to make the multiverse a positive place to help everyone. Why was Blue crying about a good thing?

Blue looked at him in concern. “you don't remember what happened to you?”

“No. I just remember traveling around universes as normal, and then nothing after. Everything is perfect now, right? The multiverse is finally all positive?” But that didn't feel right. The multiverse wasn't all positive. It felt neutral at the moment.

Blue looked utterly horrified. His current frown twisted into a full on grimace as he pressed his chin into the mattress. His usually cyan eyelights flashed white for a moment. “No, no—we don't want that. That's not good for you. We just learned that. You don’t feel that half of your skull is missing right now?” he sounded exasperated.

So that's why his skull felt lighter than normal. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't control his mouth or eye sockets. He reached his hand to try to touch them, only to touch air. Oh, the hole was much bigger than he thought. His entire face must've been gone right now. Good thing he's not a normal skeleton or else he’d be dead.

Wait.

An all positive multiverse is bad? His skull was broken because of it? That's not…He didn't understand.

“The balance is back to normal right now after you became that star-dragon thingy and…fixed it.”

How can an all positive multiverse be bad? How can positivity be bad?

“Fixed it?” he repeated, not really listening to what Blue was saying.

“Yeah, you fixed the balance…there wasn't enough negativity so you destroyed some of the positive pacifist timelines.”

The shock he would've felt was processed as surprise. “How unusual! So the multiverse is doing good now?”

He didn't understand; it's supposed to be better when it's more positive. He restored the balance himself? He doesn't even remember doing that. He doesn't remember wanting to do that.

“Uh, it's doing better, yeah,” Blue nodded. “What about you? Are you alright?”

“I always have to be,” he said. He can't ever be not alright. Even if he wanted to be!

Something deep inside burns. He knows there's an anger in him somewhere but he doesn't feel it. He can't.

He’s been doing his job wrong, then. If the multiverse is supposed to stay balanced—he shouldn't be trying to make everyone happy.

But that's what he does. That's what he's been doing his whole life!

Something was deeply wrong.

He burst into raucous laughter, sitting up on the bed. The heaves of his nonexistent diaphragm violently jerked his body.

It was hilarious! This entire time he wasn't doing his job right! The job that kept him from keeping his brother company! The job that made him argue with his brother and lose him forever! It was funny! It was so funny all he could do was laugh until his nonexistent throat hurt.

God, Blue was so worried for him. That was great! It means he’s a great friend!

For minutes he laughed. The only reason he stopped was because his voice gave out.

Now silenced, he laid back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling blankly. He didn't feel anything right now because he couldn't exactly process the feelings he would have.

He could only guess. It’d probably be regret, guilt, and confusion.

He noticed Blue left the room. He was grateful. He didn't think he wanted anyone to see him like this.

Dream has lived his whole life pleasing others. He thought it was what he was meant to do.

He was worshiped like a god, but people feared gods. He didn't want people to fear him.

So he put on a cute outfit designed by Ink. He said it was inspired by the kind of dresses that “magical girls” in anime would wear.

Magical girls were cutesy heroes. People didn't fear them. It was a perfect outfit to wear to show the multiverse he was here to help.

He’s been careful with his image, making sure that when he killed, it was only the bad guys he was taking out. He was also sure to use his magic similarly to an actual magical girl, making it flashy and keeping it cute distracted people from being afraid of how powerful he was.

It was more effort than simply obliterating any villain in a single blow, but he had to play along for the sake of the people.

But that's all fallen apart after the balance tilted towards positivity.

There was a gaping hole in his skull where his face used to be and his outfit was ruined, but his skull could grow back and his uniform could be repaired.

The problem was that he lost control while overloaded with positivity. He doesn't remember anything during that, but Ink helpfully explained everything that he did.

It explained why everyone at the Hub has been staring at him weirdly lately—besides his skull being broken at the moment.

They were afraid of him now.

He didn't really go out much while he waited for his skull to heal. He stayed at home in the Doodlesphere. Often Ink and Blue would drop by.

He really appreciated them. Of course, he didn't have the capacity to hate or dislike anyone, so initially he didn't notice this. Now he's realized that, while he can't dislike anyone, he certainly likes these two more than everyone else.

He’s gotten a better handle at understanding his emotions—partly because of those two. Blue was the one that pointed out that he couldn't feel negative emotions in the first place. It took a little while to fully understand how that affected everything about him. It was why he was so cheerful all the time, why he saw the good in everything when that wasn't what he was supposed to focus on.

Since that, he's been trying to guess what he would feel, had he been able to feel negative emotions. He began noticing when he feels less of an emotion—like feeling less happy when his friends are hurt—and interpreting that as a time he would feel bad.

Ink and Blue helped him with this too, describing to him in great detail all of the negative emotions they could think about and telling him when someone would usually feel them. He's picked up a lot of pointers from Ink specifically, given that he had a complicated relationship with emotions too.

He wondered if his brother had someone to teach him about positive emotions.

He immediately forwent the thought. He didn't like thinking about his brother so it always—

What was he thinking about again?

He's forgotten.

Memory issues. That was another consequence of only being able to feel positive emotions. Whenever he's in a situation that would make him feel a strong negative emotion and it, by some “miracle”, isn't substituted by a positive emotion, he’ll forget about it instead.

He doesn't feel happy right now. He doesn't feel much of anything right now, because if he did, he wouldn't be the guardian of positivity.

Sometimes he’d wonder how he'd be if he wasn't a guardian.

In these fantasies, he was much happier. He could feel a full range of emotions, be a real person instead of a god. He could dress however he wanted. Present himself however he wanted. All without caring what others thought or if it made them happy. He’d have hobbies, hang out with his friends more often, have time to slow down and have his own dreams.

It would be wonderful.

Maybe he'd even still have his brother around.

…What was he just thinking about?

He's gotta stop doing that. Thinking about him. It often leads to a loop of forgetting and remembering that is incredibly hard to break out of by himself.

He felt that a universe was under attack. Instinctively, he opened a portal and lept into action.

His skull hasn't fully healed yet, but his clothes were repaired. He felt like he had enough energy for a fight.

He was currently on the surface. This was a post-pacifist timeline of an Underswap universe. These were rarely attacked.

There were bright blue strings strung everywhere. It was Error attacking the place.

All the buildings were on lockdown. Everyone was hiding. It was the typical protocol for Error. He was fairly blind and relied on his strings to sense things. He seemed reluctant to enter buildings too.

It was probably because he hated physical contact.

Dream had an interesting thought. The first Blue left the Star Sanses because he became an error. If Dream became an error, would he also no longer be in the Star Sanses?

Would he no longer be the guardian of positivity?

He misstepped, his foot landing on some of the string on the ground. It latched onto him in an instant, traveling up his leg to keep him in place.

How clumsy of him. It was basic knowledge to avoid his strings at all costs.

Soon enough, Error swung by and landed a healthy distance away from him.

Like being caught in a spider’s web.

Error cocked his head and ended up turning his head a bit too much. He had to use his hands to grab his head and readjust it. He stalked around Dream, never getting closer than his current distance. “N-nice to to ssssee you’re back to your,

back to your nor-normal self,” he said.

“Thank you!” Dream automatically replied, as if the compliment was genuine.

Error frowned, rolling his eyelights. “That was sarcasm.”

He knew that!

What did he say?

“It's a shame. I really liked having someone else destroying universes around. It was unexp-unexpected!” He pouted and hugged himself. “Now I’m all lonely again.”

“Oh! I didn't mean to do any of that…I don't remember any of it either.” Wow, he was oversharing with the destroyer, how funny! Don't talk too much; he was acting too friendly!

Error’s eye sockets widened in intrigue. His right socket remained half-closed as it always was, but twitched a little. He giggled, “You don't—you don't remember? All those universes that you violently, violently scorched off the multiverse are nothing but ashes! You didn't mean to do—to do that? And I thought I was a nut.” He knocked on his skull with a knuckle, “At least I remember which universes I destroy and do it on purpose.”

He took a step closer.

He felt his soul flutter. He didn't actually want to become an error, did he? From what the current Blue said, the old Blue’s transformation was painful.

Maybe he wanted to feel pain. Maybe he wanted to feel raw, unfiltered pain instead of that warm buzzing sensation that vaguely tickled.

Error was still a sizable distance away, one step hardly brought him close enough to be at arm’s length.

“I don't usually do that. It was a one time thing.” He did it on instinct, to restore the balance. Now he knows balance is important, so too much positivity isn't going to happen again.

“Really? What caused it?”

He covered his mouth before he could respond. He wasn't going to tell him.

Unless… He got an idea.

“It’s a secret,” he stated.

“Well, you can tell me, right? After all, we are friends. You said so yourself. Unless you were just using me to get rid of those overly negative universes,” his tone became harsh at the end.

Haa, he forgot he said that. That was a pretty long time ago too. Back when he had that argument with Ink.

At least that made his idea easier.

“Of course! You gotta come closer so I can whisper it to you, though.”

Error crossed his arms. “Why do I have to be the one to get closer?”

“Uh,” Dream gestured to the string currently holding his leg in place, “kinda tied up here.”

“Right, right! Forgot about that, whoopsie.” Instead of untying his leg, he walked closer.

Now they were definitely at arm’s length. He could see small bits of binary flickering around Error’s bones. His hands, even compared to the rest of his body, glitched a lot.

Dream held out his pinky finger. “Promise you won't tell anyone?”

Error seemed hesitant, even taking a step back as Dream extended his hand. “Is th-that really necess-necessary?”

He was so close. “Very.”

His dead serious tone seemed to be enough to convince him.

Error looked at his own hand and curled all but his pinky finger…s? With how unstable his hands were, it seemed like he had multiple sometimes.

Error’s hand shook as it neared his.

Only for Error to be grabbed and pinned to the ground a moment later, causing him to shriek.

Dream was caught off guard, the speed at which that happened was quicker than a blink. It took him a full second later to register that it was the original Blue that has Error pinned.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?! What am I saying—of COURSE you are! I thought we AGREED that the last thing this multiverse needed was MORE mistakes like US!” Blazar reprimanded. 

Dream almost thought he was talking to him, but Blazar’s attention was completely on Error.

He was furious and also afraid.

Error crashed. The sudden apprehension must've startled him.

Blazar let go of him and stood up. He looked down and shook his head disapprovingly at Error before appearing right in front of Dream a second later. He cleared his metaphorical throat, “Are you okay? That was a close one. You could've became an error! That would've been awful. It's pretty painful. I wouldn't recommend it.” He spoke quickly and frantically.

“Oh! Um,” Dream looked to Error, who was currently rebooting on the ground and then back to him, “I was already okay. I didn't…need you to interfere, but thank you anyway.” He smiled at him, because that's all he can do.

Blazar tilted his head, his mouth was a straight line and it felt like his eyelights were staring straight into his soul—metaphorically, his soul was right by his neck, not in his eye sockets. “What do you mean? Oh wait!” He knocked on his skull like he forgot something. “It's not common knowledge so you probably didn't know, but Error can turn other people into errors through the touch of his hands.” He pointed at his own hand as if Dream didn't know what hands were.

Dream had another thought as he stared at Blazar’s hands. Does he also have the capability of turning people into errors? He wasted no time, his hand shot out and grabbed his.

The second he made contact, it felt like the universe froze.

Dream kept his sockets on the hand he grabbed, expecting something more to happen.

There wasn't any pain, did it not work?

He heard frantic gasping. His head whipped up to see the distraught look on Blazar’s face.

Blazar shoved him away and tucked his hands close to his chest.

Time resumed.

“D-D-DON’T DO THAT! YOU COULD’VE, YOU COULD’VE—” He was cut off by his whole body convulsing as he glitched. He fell to the ground, looking in pain.

Dream was stunned.

“Were you, were you TRYING t-to become an error?!”

“Yeah,” he answered quietly.

It didn't work.

Blazar was up in an instant, glaring at Dream in horror. “Why? Why would anyone ever—EVER want to do that? Being an error is horrible! Everyone's scared of you no matter what you do. You can't trust yourself. You don't remember anything about who you used to be so everyone who knew you stares at you like a ghost!” he sputtered hysterically. 

Dream knew him. Did he stare at him like a ghost too or was he not enough of a person to be included in that “everyone”? “I think I’d be happier.”

He heard laughing coming from another direction. His head darted toward the noise. Error’s finished rebooting.

He was laughing like he heard the funniest joke in the world. He ended up coughing on his own laughter. He gave Dream a wicked smile. “When did you get into comedy? The Guardian of Positivity thinks he’d be better off an error. Hah.”

Blazar’s sockets widened. “You're Dream?” For a moment, his voice sounded clear, like the original Blue’s. Dream could almost kid himself that Blazar remembered him. Well, he already did, but he's learned to ignore the hope he's felt.

“Yes, that's me,” he kept looking at Error, “and I wasn't joking.”

Error’s expression soured. “If you hate your life so much I’d be happy to take you to the dump.”

Ah, his labyrinth. He's familiar with it.

“That place doesn't work,” Dream said. “I’m immortal.”

Error laughed again. “W-wow! I cannot believe this!” He stood up and dusted himself off. He opened a portal next to him. “Y’know what? ‘Cus of the good laughs I’ll cut you a break. Seeya.” He gave him a two fingered salute and stepped through the portal.

Well, the universe was saved. He opened a portal of his own.

“Hang on, Dream,” Blazar blurted. He looked at him in disbelief. “What the hell was that?”

He paused. Unsure how to reply. He didn't exactly know what answer Blazar wanted in the first place. “I’m doing my job.”

“No, no, trying to get yourself turned into an error doesn't have anything to do with your job…Are you alri—”

“I’m incapable of being otherwise.”

Blazar winced. He was downright worried for him. It was nice, he presumed, having someone worry over him.

“There he is!” Another voice rang out. Dream immediately recognized it as the current Blue’s.

He and Ink were running over towards him. They were probably looking for him.

Blue was worried for him too. Ink, well, Dream could never discern what he was feeling, but his expression spelled worry at least.

Blue was panting by the time he got over to him. They probably spent a while looking for him, going off of how tired he looked. “You gotta warn us next time you go somewhere, we were worried!” It was redundant to tell him when he could sense everyone's emotions, but he appreciated the reminder.

“You shouldn't be defending any universes on your own right now,” Ink said. His head turned to Blazar, he flinched back upon seeing him.

“Oh, I uh, helped him,” Blazar said.

Ink went quiet, dazed at seeing the error. His colored eyelights looked like fishes frantically swimming around in a small puddle, trying to get away with nowhere to actually go.

Blue wormed his way between Blazar and Ink, giving the former a friendly smile. “Oh, hey man.”

Blazar smiled back. “It's been awhile!”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” was the last thing Dream heard Blue say before he stopped listening to those two.

He noticed Ink’s eyelights were on him now. He looked guilty. He sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you wanna hug?”

Dream nodded, prompting Ink to spread out his arms. He leaned into him, embracing him without hesitation. He closed his sockets, melting into the hug.

Ink patted his back.

It was comforting. It made him feel appreciated.

They made it back home soon after Blue and Blazar finished catching up. Dream felt at ease, being home.

“Soo, who’d you fight?” Blue asked.

Ink promptly elbowed him and shook his head at him. “Don’t answer that. Do you wanna hang out?”

Dream was thankful he didn’t have to answer that first question. He didn't think he'd be happy telling them what he tried doing. Blue already sobbed at the sight of his broken skull, he didn't wanna find out what he'd do if he found out he nearly became an error. On purpose. “Yes, I would like that.”

What a silly idea, anyway. Becoming an error in hopes to be rid of his role? Nothing can change his role, he was born this way!

He’ll never be anything else but the Guardian of Positivity.

…He forgot what he was thinking about.

“...a beach?” Killer gave him a quizzical look. “is it infested with sharks or something. we roleplaying horror movies too now?”

“No. You all seemed down lately—”

“gee, wonder why,” Horror commented, sarcastic as always.

“This is to improve morale. Living things need fresh air.”

“so it's one of those things,” Horror rolled his stolen eye.

“ugh, it's hot as hell here.” Killer shrugged off his jacket, he was wearing long sleeves underneath. He didn't have that before, he must've stolen that on their most recent shopping expedition. He tied his jacket around his waist by the sleeves. “you didn't tell us to wear bathing suits. we’re all gonna die now because of how neglectful you are.”

He knew he was just being hyperbolic, he does it all the time to get on his nerves, but it didn’t help that Dust collapsed into the sand right after.

He couldn’t help but widen his eye for a moment, Killer certainly noticed with the smugness radiating off of him. He ignored him. “Dust, you are overheating. You should take off your jacket.”

Dust didn’t acknowledge him. He didn’t move at all.

“I’m going to assume you three don’t like the beach,” he stated.

“nah, it’s not that. we just hate you,” Killer reminded.

Nightmare sighed, “Right. Would you prefer if I left you three be for a few hours then?”

“i’d prefer if you left us alone forever, actually.”

His soul skipped a beat. “Funny you say that.”

Killer blinked. He was caught off guard.

Nightmare slipped up. That’s not what happened in this memory. Killer would probably catch on that this was a dream soon. Which meant he'd wake up soon. It was a shame. It wasn’t often that Killer’s dreams actually included him and he just cut their time together even shorter.

Then, Killer's expression twisted. He frowned and narrowed his sockets. Now he was lucid.

The Horror and Dust in this dream faded away. They weren't the real ones this time. They haven't shared dreams in awhile.

Killer’s ringed eyelights bore into him, with an uncharacteristic growl he’s only ever heard before from Horror, he lunged.

What happened next was blurry. He remembered feeling pain, and a lot of it. It won't last once he wakes up, but due to being completely lucid in the realm of dreams it all felt real.

He clawed and tore at him with his bare hands. His overwhelming hatred healed him instantly, only for him to tear another piece off of him a second later.

Killer was covered head to toe in gore. Even his mouth was smeared with his slime, did he bite him? He wanted him dead that badly?

Alas, Killer wouldn’t be able to kill him if he tried.

There was only one person who could do that.