#fatedred!sans

“...so this is it,” he muttered.

Silence answered him.

At first.

Then something shifted in the white.

Not visually. More like a pressure behind his thoughts, like the emptiness had decided it wasn’t empty anymore.

A voice.

Then another.

Then dozens. is this the ending?? hey sans?? why did you do that?? what happens next?? are you alive?? I'm so green. reset??

Sans froze.

“what?”

The words didn’t come from the space in front of him. They came from everywhere at once. Inside his skull. Behind his ribs. Under his eyelids.

“hold on,” he snapped suddenly, taking a step back like he could physically avoid it. “hold on-”

The voices didn’t stop.

Sans grabbed his head.

“slow down!” he shouted, sharper this time. “slow down- i can’t-”

The white didn’t react.

The voices didn’t obey.

They just kept coming. Faster. Louder. Too many to separate, too many to track, like a hundred unfinished thoughts being forced into the same moment.

And Sans, standing alone in the blank nothing, started to realize something with a sinking feeling in his chest:

This wasn’t silence anymore.

It was an audience.

Chapter 9: The Monster

He walked down the stairs.

The chamber was dim.

Seven glass containers lined the walls.

Inside them-

Human souls.

They glowed faintly, their light soft but persistent.

Alive.

Waiting.

Sans stopped in front of them.

For a moment, he just stared.

This was it.

The answer.

The way out.

He could take them.

Absorb them.

Break the Barrier.

End everything.

In another life-

He would have.

Sans raised his hand.

The red smoke curled around his fingers.

“...heh,” he muttered.

The hollow inside him pulsed again.

Not with hope.

Not with purpose.

With something else.

Control.

Power.

End it.

But not like that.

Sans’s hand clenched.

The souls flickered.

Then-

They shattered.

One by one.

Their light broke apart into fragments, fading into nothing.

Gone.

No escape.

No future.

No hope.

Fuel to the dusty fire.

Sans lowered his hand.

The chamber went dark.

He paced to the barrier.

He stood there, in wait.

A few minutes later, a presence filled the room.

Familiar.

Unavoidable.

The human stood at the entrance.

They had finally arrived.

Sans didn’t turn around right away.

“took you long enough,” he said.

The human stepped forward.

Their expression was unreadable, but their thoughts churned beneath the surface. Again. It’s happening again. But this is different. He’s different.

Sans turned.

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

No words.

No introductions.

Just understanding.

Then-

A sound echoed behind them.

Footsteps.

Unsteady.

Fast.

“...SANS?”

Sans froze.

That voice-

He turned.

Papyrus stood at the entrance.

Breathing hard.

Confused.

Afraid.

“SANS... WHAT IS THIS?” Papyrus asked, his voice shaking. “WHY IS EVERYTHING- WHERE IS EVERYONE?!”

His gaze shifted.

To the throne.

To the empty room.

To the human.

Then back to Sans.

“...WHAT DID YOU DO?” he whispered.

Sans didn’t answer.

For a moment, something moved inside him.

Faint.

Weak.

But still there.

Papyrus stepped forward.

“SANS, YOU NEED TO STOP,” he said. “THIS ISN’T YOU! I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, BUT WE CAN FIX IT!”

Sans’s hand trembled slightly.

The red smoke thickened.

“you shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly.

Papyrus shook his head. “I CAME BECAUSE I WAS WORRIED ABOUT YOU!”

He stepped closer.

“AND I WAS RIGHT! LOOK AT YOU!”

The human shifted.

Their stance changed.

They moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Papyrus didn’t see it coming.

Time slowed.

Sans saw it.

The attack.

The angle.

The outcome.

Again-

No.

Not again.

Sans moved.

Faster than he had in any fight before.

He appeared in front of Papyrus.

Between him and the human.

There was no time to think.

No time to choose.

Only action.

The attack landed.

Silence.

Sans stood there.

Still.

Unmoving.

Papyrus behind him.

Safe.

For a second.

Just a second-

Then Papyrus staggered.

Sans’s eyes widened.

“No...”

Papyrus looked down.

At the wound.

At the damage.

At what had just happened.

“...SANS?” he said softly.

Sans’s hand was still extended.

Still glowing faintly.

Still-

The realization hit.

He had moved too fast.

Too far.

Too much power.

The attack was meant for the human

Had gone through him.

If on instinct.

Half of Papyrus's body was gone.

Too weak to block.

“No... no, no, no-” Sans stepped forward, grabbing Papyrus as he began to fall. “papyrus- hey- hey, stay with me-”

Papyrus looked up at him.

Confused.

Hurt.

“...I DON'T... UNDERSTAND...” he said.

Sans shook his head rapidly.

“i didn’t mean- i didn’t-”

Papyrus smiled weakly.

“IT'S... OKAY...” he said.

The words broke something.

Deep.

Final.

“...YOU'RE... STILL MY BROTHER...”

Papyrus’s form began to crumble.

Sans’s grip tightened.

“no- no, don’t- don’t do this-”

But it was already happening.

Papyrus turned to dust.

The room went silent.

Completely.

Utterly.

Empty.

Sans didn’t move.

His hands still held nothing.

The last piece.

The last connection.

Gone.

Something inside him snapped.

Not cracked.

Not shifted.

Snapped.

The red smoke surged violently, pouring from his body in thick waves. His soul pulsed once, then steadied into something colder. Darker.

Whatever had been left of Sans-

Was gone.

Sans picked up his brother's scarf.

At least one thing was left by his brother.

He stood up slowly.

Turned.

Faced the human.

His expression was empty.

No hesitation.

No purpose.

No reason.

Only one thing remained.

Violence.

“...guess that’s it,” Sans said quietly.

His voice carried no emotion.

No weight.

Nothing.

“nothing left to save.”

The human stared at him.

Something in their thoughts shifted.

This is new.

Sans stepped forward.

The air warped around him.

“so now,” he continued, “i’m just gonna finish it.”

His right empty eye flashed red.

“all of it.”

There was no justice left.

No goal.

No protection.

No meaning.

Only a true monster.

Chapter 8: The Throne Room

By the time Sans reached the throne room, there was almost nothing left of the Underground.

The silence followed him.

No footsteps echoed behind him. No voices called out. No life remained to fill the empty halls. The red smoke curled from his body in slow, endless strands, drifting upward as if trying to escape him.

It never did.

The burn inside him had grown stronger. It was no longer something he noticed. It simply was. Like breathing used to be. Like thinking.

Like killing.

Sans stepped forward.

The throne room doors opened.

Asgore stood waiting.

He did not raise his weapon.

He did not attack.

He simply watched.

“...so,” Asgore said quietly. “it has come to this.”

Sans didn’t respond.

He kept walking, stopping only a few steps away.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Asgore’s gaze softened slightly.

“I had hoped,” he said, “that things might have been different.”

Sans tilted his head just slightly.

“they weren’t,” he replied.

Asgore nodded slowly.

“Yes,” he said. “I can see that.”

His eyes shifted, studying Sans more closely. The empty sockets. The red smoke. The hollow presence where something once existed.

“...what happened to you?” Asgore asked.

Sans didn’t answer right away.

Then-

“nothing you can fix.”

The air grew heavier.

Asgore closed his eyes briefly, as if accepting something he had already known.

“...then I will not ask again.”

He stepped forward.

His trident appeared in his hands.

“If you have come this far,” he continued, “then you already know what must happen.”

Sans’s expression didn’t change.

“yeah,” he said. “i do.”

The battle began.

Asgore struck first.

His flames roared to life, filling the throne room with heat and light. His attacks were controlled, powerful, each one carrying the weight of a king who had fought for his people for years.

Sans moved through them.

Not effortlessly.

Not easily.

But without hesitation.

The fight dragged on longer than the others.

Asgore did not fall quickly.

He adapted. He pressed forward. He forced Sans back step by step, refusing to give in.

“You still hesitate,” Asgore said between strikes. “Even now.”

Sans didn’t respond.

But it was true.

There were moments.

Small ones.

Barely noticeable.

Where his movements slowed.

Where something inside him resisted.

Asgore saw it.

“You are not beyond saving,” he said.

Sans’s eye flickered red.

“don’t,” he muttered.

Asgore stepped forward again. “Then stop. This does not have to continue.”

The words hit something.

Deep.

Faint.

Almost gone.

Sans’s hand tightened.

The burn surged.

The hollow inside him pulsed.

“No,” he said.

This time, there was no hesitation.

The fight ended in a single, decisive strike.

Asgore froze.

The flames around him flickered out.

“...I see,” he said quietly.

His form began to break apart.

“I am sorry... for what you have become.”

Sans didn’t move.

Asgore turned to dust.

The throne room fell silent.

Sans stood alone.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then he turned and walked out of the throne room towards the basement.

Chapter 7: The Weight of Dust

Sans stood in the doorway of his home for a long time before he moved.

Papyrus was in the other room, pacing.

“...hey, bro,” Sans said quietly.

Papyrus turned instantly. “SANS! THAT WAS FAST! I WAS JUST THINKING-”

“i need you to come with me,” Sans interrupted.

Papyrus blinked. “COME WITH YOU? WHERE? IS THIS A SECRET MISSION? IS IT FINALLY TIME FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO-”

“just... come on,” Sans said.

There was something in his voice that made Papyrus stop.

Not urgency.

Not excitement.

Something heavier.

“...OKAY,” Papyrus said, slower this time.

The lab behind their house was quiet.

It always had been. A leftover space, something forgotten and unused. Dust clung to the corners. Old equipment sat untouched. It was the kind of place no one thought about.

Sans opened the door and stepped inside.

Papyrus followed, looking around curiously. “WOW! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THIS WAS HERE! WHAT ARE WE DOING-”

“stay here.”

Papyrus paused.

“...WHAT?”

Sans didn’t turn around.

“just stay here,” he repeated.

Papyrus laughed awkwardly. “SANS, I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE JOKE.”

“it’s not a joke.”

The words landed harder than anything else.

Papyrus’s smile faded.

“...SANS?” he asked, quieter now.

Sans finally turned to face him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Papyrus saw it then. Not just the smoke. Not just the empty sockets.

Something missing.

“SANS... WHAT’S GOING ON?”

Sans looked at him, really looked at him.

This was the last moment.

The last chance to say something different.

To stop.

“...i’m keeping you safe,” Sans said.

Papyrus frowned. “SAFE FROM WHAT?”

Sans hesitated.

Then he answered.

“me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Papyrus stepped forward. “SANS, THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE! WHY WOULD I NEED TO BE SAFE FROM YOU?”

Sans took a step back.

“because i’m not stopping,” he said. “not this time.”

Papyrus shook his head. “STOPPING WHAT?”

Sans didn’t answer.

He reached for the door.

Papyrus’s eyes widened. “SANS, WAIT-!”

The door slammed shut.

The handle internals broke.

Locks clicked into place.

Papyrus rushed forward, grabbing the handle, pulling hard.

“SANS! SANS, OPEN THE DOOR!”

Sans stood on the other side, his hand resting against the surface.

He didn’t move.

“I’ll be back,” he said quietly.

“FOR WHAT?!” Papyrus shouted. “SANS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Sans closed his eyes.

“...just stay here,” he repeated.

Then he turned and walked away.

Papyrus’s voice echoed behind him, desperate, confused, afraid.

Sans didn’t look back.

Snow crunched under his feet as he moved through the Underground.

The world felt quieter now.

Or maybe he just wasn’t listening anymore.

The red smoke curled around him, thicker than before. The burning hadn’t faded. It had become part of him, constant and familiar.

His soul pulsed faintly.

Hollow.

Hungry.

Sans stopped at the Ruins.

The door stood open.

He already knew what waited inside.

“...guess we’re doing this,” he muttered.

Toriel stood at the end of the hallway.

She turned as he approached, her expression softening immediately.

“My child-” she began, then paused.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Sans?”

He didn’t respond.

Toriel stepped forward. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Sans stopped a few steps away.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

“...yeah,” he said. “something’s wrong.”

Toriel’s expression shifted. Concern deepened.

“What is it?”

Sans looked at her.

This was the point where he could stop.

Where he could walk away.

Where he could pretend this wasn’t happening.

“...you should go back,” he said.

Toriel blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“back into the ruins,” Sans continued. “don’t come out.”

“Sans, I don’t understand-”

“just do it,” he said.

His voice was sharper now.

Toriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“...no,” she said firmly. “Not until you tell me what is going on.”

Sans exhaled slowly.

“figures,” he muttered.

The air shifted.

Toriel felt it immediately. The change. The weight.

“Sans...” she said, stepping back slightly.

“I’m not here to talk,” he said.

Her expression hardened.

“...then why are you here?”

Sans didn’t answer.

He moved.

The first attack was fast. Too fast.

Toriel barely had time to react, her fire flaring to life as she blocked, pushing him back.

“SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” she shouted.

He didn’t respond.

The fight escalated instantly.

Toriel’s flames filled the space, bright and overwhelming, but Sans moved through them with unnatural precision. His attacks came in waves, relentless, pushing her back step by step.

“STOP THIS!” Toriel cried. “THIS ISN’T YOU!”

For a moment-

A pause.

A flicker.

Sans hesitated.

Then the burn in his soul surged.

He pushed forward again.

Harder.

Faster.

Toriel’s defense faltered.

The final blow came suddenly.

Too suddenly.

Toriel staggered, her flames flickering out as she fell to her knees.

“...Sans...” she whispered.

He stood there, unmoving.

“...why?”

The question hung in the air.

Sans didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Toriel’s form broke apart into dust.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sans stood there for a long time.

“...sorry,” he said, but it came too late.

The dust scattered.

And something inside him cracked.

Waterfall.

Undyne didn’t wait.

The moment she saw him, her spear was already in motion.

“I KNEW IT,” she shouted. “I KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH YOU!”

Sans dodged, barely.

“you always were quick,” he said.

Undyne snarled. “SAVE IT! I’M NOT LETTING YOU HURT ANYONE ELSE!”

The battle was immediate. Violent.

Undyne pushed forward with everything she had, her attacks relentless, her determination unshaken.

“You think you can just walk through the Underground?!” she yelled. “LIKE THIS?!”

Sans didn’t answer.

He matched her force with his own.

Blow for blow.

Attack for attack.

The ground cracked beneath them as the fight dragged on, neither giving an inch.

Undyne moved faster.

Stronger.

Her spear caught him.

A sharp strike across his face.

Sans staggered back as pain flared.

His left eye-

Cracked.

A deep mark cut across it, glowing faintly before dimming again.

He wiped at it slowly.

“...nice shot,” he muttered.

Undyne didn’t hesitate.

She charged again.

Sans met her.

This time, he didn’t hold back.

The fight ended in a burst of force.

Undyne froze.

Then slowly-

She fell.

“...heh,” she whispered. “guess... you finally... tried...”

She turned to dust.

Sans didn’t move.

The burn in his soul grew stronger.

Hotland.

Mettaton stood waiting.

“OH YES,” he said, his voice echoing through the room. “I’VE BEEN EXPECTING YOU.”

Sans didn’t stop walking.

“YOU REALLY THINK THIS WILL END WELL FOR YOU?” Mettaton continued. “DARLING, THIS IS WHERE YOUR SHOW ENDS!”

Sans looked up.

“...let’s skip the intro,” he said.

The fight began.

Bright lights. Flashing attacks. Mettaton’s performance filled the space, but Sans cut through it, ignoring the spectacle.

“You’re not even WATCHING!” Mettaton snapped.

Sans didn’t respond.

The battle ended quickly.

Too quickly.

Mettaton’s lights flickered.

“...well,” he said softly. “that was... disappointing.”

He powered down.

Silence followed.

Sans walked past without a word.

Snowdin, he waited for it last.

Grillby’s was quiet.

The fire behind the bar flickered gently, steady and calm.

Grillby stood there, as always.

Waiting.

Sans stopped at the entrance.

For a moment, he didn’t go in.

Then he did.

The door creaked slightly as it opened.

Grillby looked up.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Grillby understood.

He always had.

Sans stepped forward slowly.

“...you should run,” he said.

Grillby didn’t move.

The fire behind his eyes burned steadily.

Unchanging.

Sans’s hand trembled slightly.

“...don’t make me do this,” he said.

Grillby didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t resist.

That made it worse.

The silence stretched.

Then Sans moved.

The attack was quick.

Grillby didn’t fight back.

The flames flickered-

Then went out.

The bar fell silent.

Sans stood there, staring at the empty space where his friend had been.

No words.

No apology.

Nothing.

The warmth was gone.

Completely.

By the time Sans left, there was nothing left inside him.

No hesitation.

No regret.

No feeling.

Just the burn.

Just the pull.

Just the need to keep going.

Each step forward felt easier now.

Lighter.

Like there was less of him left to carry.

Sans walked on.

Not as the skeleton he used to be.

But as something else.

Something hollow.

Something determined.

Chapter 6: Smoke

Sans woke up in his bed.

For a moment, everything felt normal. The ceiling above him, the quiet stillness of the house, the faint hum of nothing in particular. It was the same place he had woken up countless times before.

But something was wrong.

He didn’t move right away. He just lay there, staring upward, waiting for the familiar feeling of a reset to settle in. Waiting for the weight to return the way it always did.

It didn’t.

Instead, there was something else.

A slow, constant burn.

Sans sat up.

The motion was stiff, unnatural, like his body wasn’t fully his anymore. His hands rested on his knees as he looked down at them. At first, they seemed the same. Still. Unchanged.

Then he noticed it.

Thin strands of red smoke curled upward from his arms.

They drifted slowly, rising into the air like something alive, twisting and fading before reforming again. The smoke didn’t stop. It didn’t slow.

It just kept coming.

“...huh,” Sans muttered quietly.

There was no humor in it.

He raised a hand, watching the smoke leak from between his fingers. The burn followed it, deep and constant, not sharp enough to make him react, but impossible to ignore.

His eyelights flickered.

Or at least, they should have.

Sans froze.

There was nothing there.

No glow. No color. No flicker of blue.

Just empty sockets staring back at the world.

For a second, he didn’t move.

Then, slowly, he reached inward.

His soul.

It had always been there. A quiet presence, steady and familiar, even when everything else fell apart. Even when the timelines broke and reset, even when the memories stayed, his soul had remained the same.

Now

Sans’s hand tightened slightly.

He found it.

And it wasn’t right.

The shape was there, but it felt hollow. Like something had been carved out from the inside and left behind an empty shell. A faint red glow pulsed through it, uneven and dull, like a dying ember that refused to go out.

“...so it worked,” he said softly.

The words came out flat.

No surprise. No fear.

Just confirmation.

The deal had been real.

Sans lowered his hand slowly, the smoke continuing to rise around him. The burning didn’t stop. If anything, it became more noticeable now that he was aware of it.

He stood.

His legs felt heavier, but stronger at the same time. Like something unnatural had replaced what he had lost. Each step carried a weight that wasn’t there before, but it didn’t slow him down.

It pushed him forward.

Sans walked to the door and paused, his hand resting against it.

On the other side, everything was the same.

Papyrus.

The house.

A normal day.

For a moment, Sans just stood there.

Then he opened the door.

Papyrus was already moving around the main room, his energy filling the space like it always did. Pots clanged lightly in the kitchen area, and the smell of spaghetti filled the air.

“AH, SANS!” Papyrus turned quickly, his usual grin wide and bright. “YOU’RE FINALLY AWAKE! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE PREPARED ANOTHER MASTERPIECE!”

Sans leaned against the wall slightly.

“heh... smells good,” he said.

Papyrus paused.

His grin didn’t fade, but something in his posture shifted. His eyes narrowed just a little as he looked closer at Sans.

“SANS... YOUR EYES.”

Sans didn’t respond right away.

Papyrus stepped closer.

“THEY’RE... YOU DON’T HAVE ANY EYELIGHTS,” he said, confusion slipping into his voice. “AND WHAT IS THAT SMOKE?”

The red strands curled upward between them, faint but impossible to miss.

Sans glanced down at it, then back at Papyrus.

“new look,” he said simply.

Papyrus blinked.

“THAT IS NOT A NORMAL ‘LOOK,’ SANS!”

Sans gave a small shrug.

“guess i’m trying something different.”

Papyrus didn’t look convinced.

His gaze lingered on the smoke, then moved back to Sans’s face, searching for something that wasn’t there anymore.

“...ARE YOU OKAY?” Papyrus asked, quieter now.

The question hung in the air.

Sans looked at him.

For a moment, there was something there. Something faint. Something that almost answered honestly.

Then it was gone.

“yeah,” Sans said. “i’m good.”

It wasn’t true.

Papyrus hesitated, then forced his usual energy back into place.

“WELL! IF YOU’RE ‘GOOD,’ THEN YOU SHOULD TRY MY SPAGHETTI!”

Sans glanced at the plate.

Normally, he would have made a joke. Dodged the offer. Found a way out of it.

This time, he stepped forward and picked it up.

Papyrus froze.

Sans took a bite.

There was a pause.

Papyrus’s expression shifted into pure shock.

“SANS... YOU ATE IT.”

Sans swallowed.

“yeah,” he said. “not bad.”

Papyrus stared at him.

“NOT BAD?! THAT IS THE GREATEST PRAISE YOU HAVE EVER GIVEN ME!”

Sans didn’t smile.

He set the plate down.

“guess i should’ve said it sooner.”

Papyrus’s excitement flickered, then dimmed slightly. He looked at Sans again, really looked this time.

Something was off.

Not just the eyes.

Not just the smoke.

Something deeper.

“SANS...” he started.

Sans turned away.

“I gotta go,” he said.

Papyrus blinked. “GO? GO WHERE? YOU JUST WOKE UP!”

Sans walked toward the hallway.

“things to take care of.”

Papyrus stepped forward. “THEN I WILL COME WITH-”

“no.”

The word was quiet, but firm.

Papyrus stopped.

Sans paused at the edge of the room, his hand brushing lightly against the wall.

“...stay here,” he said. “just... stay.”

Papyrus didn’t respond right away.

“...OKAY,” he said finally, though uncertainty lingered in his voice.

Sans nodded once.

Then he moved to his room.

The door creaked slightly as he opened it. The space inside was the same as always. Messy. Quiet. Familiar.

Except for one thing.

In the corner, tucked away and untouched, was an old jacket.

White.

A single black stripe ran across it.

Sans walked over slowly.

He stared at it for a moment, like he was trying to remember something connected to it. Something distant. Something that didn’t quite reach him anymore.

Then he picked it up.

The fabric was clean, untouched by time.

He put it on.

The red smoke curled against the white, staining nothing, but standing out all the same.

Sans looked down at himself briefly.

“...guess this works,” he muttered.

The burning didn’t stop.

The emptiness didn’t go away.

But neither did the feeling pushing him forward.

Sans turned and walked out of the room, past Papyrus, and toward the door.

Papyrus watched him go, unease settling in his chest.

“SANS...” he called out.

Sans didn’t stop.

He walked out of the house.

Before he walked further, he remembered his deal.

Chapter 5: Voidfall.

The last fight did not feel like the others.

There was no sharp moment where Sans thought he might win. No sudden burst of effort, no last-second trick. The human moved the same way they always had, steady and certain, and Sans met them with nothing left to give.

“heh,” he muttered, barely lifting his hand. “guess this is it, huh.”

The human didn’t hesitate.

They struck.

This time, Sans didn’t feel the impact the way he used to. It wasn’t sharp or sudden. It was distant, like something happening far away from him. His body gave out, his magic flickered, and the world began to fade.

Again-

No.

Something was wrong.

Instead of snapping back into place, the world unraveled. The snow dissolved into nothing. The trees bent and broke apart into fragments of light. The ground beneath him disappeared entirely.

Sans fell.

There was no wind. No sound. No direction.

Just emptiness.

For a long moment, there was nothing at all.

Then Sans hit something that wasn’t there.

He didn’t stand. He didn’t move. He just lay there, staring up into a space that had no ceiling, no sky, no anything. His eyelights flickered weakly.

“...figures,” he whispered.

The silence pressed in on him, heavier than anything he had felt before. It wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t calm. It was empty in a way that felt wrong, like the world had been stripped down to something it was never meant to be.

Sans slowly pushed himself up, his movements sluggish. His hands trembled slightly as he looked around.

Nothing.

No Snowdin. No Ruins. No timelines looping over each other.

No reset.

For the first time, there was no “again.”

The thought hit him harder than anything else had.

“No...” His voice cracked, the word barely forming. “no, no, no... that’s not- that’s not how this works.”

He took a step forward, then another, but there was nowhere to go. The space didn’t change. It didn’t react. It didn’t care.

Sans laughed weakly, the sound hollow and uneven.

“heh... guess i finally broke it,” he said, though the words didn’t carry any humor. “good job, me. real funny.”

The silence answered him.

That was when it started to sink in.

Everything he had done. Every fight. Every failure. Every time he had stood in that same place outside the Ruins, thinking this time would be different.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The word echoed in his mind, louder now without anything to drown it out.

Sans grabbed his skull, his fingers tightening as his eyelights flickered violently.

“just- just stop,” he muttered. “stop it. it’s over. it’s done.”

But it wasn’t.

The memories didn’t fade.

They got louder.

He saw it all at once.

Toriel turning to dust. Papyrus laughing, unaware. Undyne standing strong until she fell. The Underground collapsing over and over, each timeline stacking on top of the last until it became impossible to separate them.

And the human.

Always the human.

Sans staggered, his legs giving out as he dropped to his knees. His breath came out uneven, even though he didn’t need to breathe.

“i tried,” he said, his voice breaking. “i tried to stop you... i tried every time...”

His hands clenched against the empty ground.

“and it didn’t matter,” he continued, louder now, the words spilling out faster. “nothing mattered. not the fights, not the shortcuts, not the timing- nothing!”

The void remained silent.

Sans laughed again, but this time it cracked apart halfway through.

“you ever get tired of it?” he asked, though there was no one there. “of... watching everything go wrong over and over?”

His eyelights dimmed, then flared again.

“i do,” he said quietly. “i really, really do.”

For a moment, he just sat there, hunched over, his shoulders shaking slightly. The calm, lazy skeleton that everyone knew was gone. There was no one left to see it anyway.

“I don’t even... feel it anymore,” he admitted. “not the way i used to. guess that’s what happens when you die enough times.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“guess that’s what happens when you remember.”

The emptiness stretched on forever.

No reset.

No escape.

Just him.

Sans slowly lifted his head, his expression hollow.

“...so what now?” he asked.

The question hung in the void.

For the first time in a long time, Sans didn’t have an answer.

And then-

Something shifted.

It was small at first. A distortion, barely noticeable, like a ripple in still water. The emptiness warped slightly, bending in a way that felt... intentional.

Sans froze.

His eyelights sharpened, focusing on the point where the distortion grew stronger.

A shape began to form.

It wasn’t clear. Not at first. Just a presence, something that existed where nothing else should. The air around it twisted, pulling at the edges of reality itself.

Sans didn’t move.

“...figured i wouldn’t be alone forever,” he muttered, though his voice was quieter now, cautious.

The shape became clearer, though it still didn’t fully make sense. It didn’t belong in the void, but neither did Sans.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then the figure moved.

Symbols flickered into existence around it, sharp and unfamiliar to anyone else, but not to Sans.

Wingdings.

The characters pulsed faintly, forming something close to language.

Sans’s gaze narrowed.

“heh,” he said softly, though there was no humor in it. “knew it had to be you... or something like you.”

The symbols flickered once more, slower this time, more deliberate. New shapes formed, clearer than before.

A condition.

Not just power.

Not just Determination.

A path.

Sans’s gaze narrowed as he read it, his expression tightening just slightly.

“...you’re kidding,” he muttered.

The symbols did not change.

They held steady.

To gain the power to stop the human, he would have to do the same thing. Not once. Not by accident. By choice.

He would have to kill.

All of them.

Sans looked away for a moment, his hand tightening at his side. The emptiness around him felt heavier now, pressing in as the meaning settled.

Papyrus.

The thought came first, sharp and immediate.

Papyrus laughing in the house. Papyrus pacing around Snowdin. Papyrus believing, every time, that things would turn out right in the end.

Sans exhaled slowly.

“that’s the deal, huh,” he said quietly. “i stop them... by becoming them.”

The symbols flickered faintly, confirming nothing and denying nothing.

Sans laughed under his breath, but it didn’t last.

“heh... figures,” he said. “guess there’s always a catch.”

He looked down at his hands again. They felt the same, but he knew they weren’t. Not after everything. Not after all the times he had already failed.

Again.

Again.

Again.

The word echoed in his mind, but it didn’t carry the same panic anymore. Just weight. Endless, crushing weight.

“If i don’t take this...” he started, his voice quieter now, more distant, “it just keeps going.”

The human would keep moving.

Snowdin would fall.

Waterfall.

Hotland.

Papyrus.

Every time.

No matter what he did.

Sans closed his eyes briefly.

“...i already watched it happen,” he said. “over and over.”

His voice didn’t shake anymore.

“I tried stopping them early. tried fighting. tried thinking of something different.” He let out a slow breath. “didn’t matter.”

The silence stretched.

Then Sans opened his eyes again and looked back at the figure.

“If i take this...” he said, more firmly now, “i don’t get to pretend anymore.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“No shortcuts. no half measures.”

The symbols remained still. Waiting.

Sans’s expression hardened just a little. Not angry. Not emotional. Just... set.

“...and if that’s what it takes to end it,” he continued, “then i’ll do it.”

There was a pause.

A small one.

Just enough for something to have stopped him.

It didn’t.

Sans looked directly at the figure, the last trace of hesitation fading from his face.

“...deal,” he said.

The symbols flared brightly.

Chapter 4: Repetition.

The dust still lingered in the air outside the Ruins, stirred by the human’s footsteps. The sunlight hit it in thin streams, catching the motes like tiny, meaningless stars. The air smelled of scorched earth and fear, of something fragile broken. Sans had watched the entire thing happen. Toriel’s fall was quiet and final, but the echo of her life, the quiet warmth she had carried, lingered in the space between them.

He stepped forward slowly, his hands in his pockets, jaw tight. “heya,” he said, voice soft, too soft, carrying more weight than usual. “y-you really didn’t have to do that, ya know.”

The human barely looked at him. Their eyes followed the path forward, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of their mouth. They thought they were alone. They thought they could keep going.

“You think you can just... keep going?” Sans asked, shaking his head. “it doesn’t work like that. not anymore.”

The human did nothing and walked forward.

Sans shifted his weight. “guess i gotta do it then,” he said. He raised one hand, and a flicker of blue fire danced across his eye socket. “guess it’s my turn.”

The attack came fast. Not a trick. Not a warning. Just a sudden burst of motion. The human barely blinked. The strikes connected. Sans crumpled to the ground.

And then he was gone.

He woke again in his room, alone, staring at the ceiling. The dust of yesterday was gone. His bones ached, but more than that, the emptiness inside him stretched wider. He rubbed his eye, tried to remember why he had moved in the first place, to stop them.

Sans was back outside the Ruins before the human even realized it. The same dust swirled. The same path stretched before them. The same weight of inevitability pressed down.

“you really like this, huh?” Sans said quietly. “keep going... again... again... again..." His voice wavered once, then steadied, almost like a chant. “think i don’t notice.”

The human’s eyes flicked up.

And so it repeated. The clash. The attack. The collapse. The reset.

Again.

Sans felt the first pangs of numbness. Again. He rose, his eyelights flickering, but each blink brought the same memory, the same echo. Again. The forest, the snow, the trail of broken hope. Again. The human. Again. Toriel. Again. Every monster he had failed. Again.

“enough,” Sans whispered to himself the first time it came close to breaking him. He raised his hand, tried a new angle, a new trick, a new strike. It didn’t matter. He fell. Again.

Again.

He woke somewhere unfamiliar. A room, a ceiling he had seen a hundred times, yet new with every failure. His bones ached. His vision blurred. He could feel the loop in his marrow.

Again.

By the tenth time, he no longer spoke. By the twentieth, he barely moved, letting his magic fizzle out almost lazily. The repetition wore him thin. Each death carved a little more of him away. Each resurrection carried the full weight of what had happened and what would happen again.

The forest outside the Ruins began to feel different, unreal. Shadows stretched longer, bending unnaturally. The snow beneath his feet felt heavier, as if remembering every step he had taken a thousand times over.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Sans began to talk to himself now, muttering fragments of jokes he could not finish. “guess... guess i really am... again...” His voice cracked. He clenched a fist. “AGAIN AGAIN AND AGAIN.”

The human paused once, sensing something off. “Are you... still here?” they said aloud. But the thought immediately faded, replaced by the internal spiral repeating itself to do it again.

Sans staggered forward, eyelights glowing faintly. Every part of him was screaming, but he had no energy left to fight the exhaustion. All he could think of was "stop it. stop this. end it."

The next fight came quickly. It always did. The human moved like a shadow of inevitability, striking with precision and thought, oblivious to every previous encounter. Sans collapsed, yet again, and for a moment, he almost felt relief. Almost.

Then he rose, for the last time.

He stopped outside the Ruins. He did not raise his hand. He did not attack. The blue fire did not spark.

“I... I can’t,” he whispered to the wind. “doesn’t matter... doesn’t matter... doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

The human stepped forward, calm, unaware of the storm that had passed through Sans’s mind.

Sans leaned back against a tree, bones aching, soul hollowing out, eyelights dimming. The endless loop had broken him in a way nothing else could. He would fight again, of course, but not with hope. Not with energy. Not with the weight of caring.

All that remained was the circle. The repetition. The inevitability.

Chapter 3: The Fight

The truth settled into Sans slowly, not as words, but as a feeling that could not be ignored.

He did not speak about what he had seen in the true lab. He did not explain it to Alphys, and he did not try to make sense of it out loud. Instead, he left the lab with the same quiet movement he always used, though something about him had changed.

His steps were more deliberate.

His posture was still relaxed, but there was tension beneath it now. A focus that had not been there before.

The world around him continued as if nothing had changed. Snowdin remained calm. The townsfolk still talked, still laughed, still lived their lives without fear.

But Sans no longer saw it the same way.

The memories were sharper, like they were pressing against the present.

He could see it now, everything, he could predict the humans moves.

Sans stopped near the edge of Snowdin.

The air felt colder here, or maybe it only seemed that way because of what he knew.

He stood still for a moment, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded as usual. To anyone watching, he looked the same as always.

Waiting was no longer an option. Not anymore. Sans moved forward.

A shortcut would be quicker, but this time he did not use it. Instead, he walked through Snowdin. He watched the paths, the open spaces, the places where the human would pass through if they continued forward.

His mind filled with fragments of timelines that no longer belonged to this moment.

Dust in the snow. Broken silence. The feeling of that something soon would happen.

"There it is." Sans stopped.

He turned slightly, his eyelights narrowing just a little.

Ahead of him, the human stood. He watched them.

For a brief moment, everything was still.

Then Sans spoke, his voice calm but heavier than before. "Heya kid. Going somewhere?"

The human did not respond, the air between them tightened.

Sans stepped forward, teleporting in their face. This was no longer just a passing encounter. This was something different, something new (:O killer sans referenc!!1!!!11). The fight began.

Sans moved first, faster than expected. His attacks came in bursts, quick and precise, testing the human’s reactions. The air flickered with each movement, reality bending slightly around his magic.

The human responded without hesitation.

Each strike from Sans was met with resistance. The human advanced steadily, pushing forward with a determination that did not waver.

Sans narrowed his gaze.

He knew this feeling.

He had seen it before.

The battle continued, growing more intense with each passing second. The snow around them began to shift under the force of their conflict. Magic clashed against will.

Sans pushed harder.

He could feel the weight of every timeline pressing against him. Every failure. Every death. Every moment he had been forced to watch everything fall apart.

This time, he would not wait until the end.

This time, he would stop it here.

But the human did not slow.

The pressure increased.

Sans’s movements began to falter, just slightly. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to matter.

A sharp moment passed.

Then another.

Sans felt it before it happened.

He was losing.

The final exchange came quickly.

A sudden surge from the human broke through Sans’s defenses. The cut hit harder than expected, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to stop.

The world blurred.

The snow.

The air.

The human standing before him.

Then it ended.

Sans’s form collapsed, his strength fading as the timeline reached its inevitable conclusion.

Darkness followed. "✋︎■︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎♏︎⬧︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎📬︎"

When the world reset, Sans returned.

He woke in his bed sweating, eye glowing.

But he was not the same.

The memory of the fight remained.

The failure remained.

He did not react outwardly. He did not speak.

But something inside him had changed.

This would not be the only time.

Sans leaned back slightly, his expression steady, but his mind already moving ahead.

If waiting only led to more death, then he would not wait.

If fighting here was not enough, then he would fight again.

And again.

The human would not reach the end unchallenged.

Not anymore.