#gasterblasters

For the second time in as many days, Sans found himself suddenly shocked awake.  Terror gripped him, feelings of pain and helplessness still so real that only the warmly lit room and the grounding reassurance of his brother's voice close by made him realize that he was truly safe.  At least this time he didn't remember the nightmare that had inspired them.  He'd had enough nightmares to last him multiple lifetimes already.

Sans pressed his palms against his eye sockets, not quite blocking out the light but dimming it to only the thin beams that peeked through the natural gaps in his metacarpals.  He felt warm, like he'd just stepped into the lava lit caverns of Hotland.  Only, the heat wasn't coming from glowing magma that boiled away beneath the rocks of their underground prison.  It was coming from inside himself.  Determination raced in his body, searing its way through marrow with every pulse of his soul.  It was a very familiar sensation.  

He could sense Papyrus nearby.  He would have known the other skeleton was there even if he hadn't spoken a word.  The magic of his soul, tones of blue underscored with a warm orange that Sans would know anywhere, radiated with anxious energy.  Papyrus said something else, though Sans could not catch the meaning of his uncharacteristically quiet words.  He answered with a low groan, channeling all his discomfort, distress, and irritation into a single unquestionably grouchy sound.

Chuckling faintly, Papyrus placed a gloved hand on his skull.  Sans leaned into the touch, drinking in the comparative cool of winter-chilled fabric.  For once, his brother didn't even complain that Sans was getting sweat on his nice, clean gloves.  And somehow, it was that one seemingly inconsequential detail that tipped the scales.  This wasn't right.  None of it was.  And unlike the countless resets rewinding time over and over in a hellish loop, this time he wasn't the only one who knew.  He couldn't just ignore this and pretend it all away.  It was real.  More real than anything in his life had been for so long.  Laughter bubbled up in his throat, giddy and manic, even as he shut his sockets tight against the sting of rising tears.  Trembling fingers gripped at his skull with the distinctive scraping sound of bone on bone.

The gloved hand against his head tensed but did not pull away.  “Sans?”

As tempting as it was to give up completely and throw the tattered remains of his sanity to the winds, Sans knew he couldn't do that.  The one and only thing he could never give up on was right there with him.  Even though his very existence was causing his sibling so much trouble, he couldn't bring himself to entertain the idea of taking the easy way out and leaving Papyrus.  Especially not when Gaster, or some twisted fragment of him at least, was lurking around.  His hysterical giggling tapered off and he let his hands fall away.  His mouth curved into a lazy grin, so well practiced that doing so was nearly automatic.  “i'm fine.”

“You most certainly are not!  You … you … “  Papyrus looked away from him.  He forced shaking fists into his lap and sat there stiffly, his arms as rigid as metal bars.  “Do you remember what happened back there?”

“uh … maybe?”  If Sans was going to be honest with himself, a practice he had a long standing distaste for, he'd have to admit that his memories of the previous day were a jumbled mess.  He didn't even know for sure if it had been the previous day.  He could have been asleep for hours or days and he'd have no way of knowing the difference.  And what he did remember from before his unplanned nap didn't make much sense.  He'd seen the thing that had once been Gaster, at least he was fairly sure he had, and even heard what passed for his voice.  But, what then?  Try as he might, Sans only managed to recall snippets of conversation, fleeting flashes of anger and fear, and a sensation so twisted, so utterly  wrong, that he immediately abandoned the train of thought that had let him to it.  

“He did something to you and … and you …  changed.”  Papyrus pulled at the end of his scarf, wringing the ragged fabric into a tight, cord-like coil.  His shoulders shook.  “You almost looked like one of the blasters.”

The fragments of his memories surged forward, breaking through the weak mental barriers Sans had placed around them.  He remembered something pulling at him.  Stretching his body.  Bending his limbs in ways they were never meant to go.  He barely suppressed a gag as the wrongness of it washed over him.  There had been claws, sharp and curved, where his fingers had been.  Long, pointed fangs had crowded his mouth.  His soul had burned.  Stars, his soul was burning!  

Sans hissed a long breath through clenched, blunt teeth.  He flexed his fingers, tangling them in the bedsheets.  There were no claws.  No fangs.  No burn beyond the slowly fading heat of Determination.  It had happened, he knew that no matter how much he wished he could forget, but it was in the past.  He let out a shaky chuckle, hating himself just a little bit more at the pathetic sound of it.  “well … guess that was a thing.”

“Don't joke about this Sans.”

The older skeleton could count the number of times he heard such a quiet, solemn tone from his sibling on one hand.  He didn't like it one bit, but it wasn't like he could argue.  “okay.”

“The queen healed you.  W-well, she tried to.  She said there wasn't much physical damage left, and that you would need rest to heal your magic.  If it could be healed.”

Ooh.  So that's what had Papyrus, the poster boy for upbeat optimism, so far down in the dumps that he might as well be underwater.  The dreaded 'if'.  Sans wanted to reassure his little brother that everything was okay, no questions asked, but he knew that sort of empty reassurance wasn't welcome here.  Papyrus needed the truth, even if it hurt.  

After a few deep, steadying breaths, Sans summoned his soul.  He let it drift out of him, hovering in the air, and slowly cupped his hands around it.  It felt a bit too warm, but not burning hot like in his unwanted memories.  The glow it cast was the same cool, soothing blue it had always been, the colors shifting together like gently flowing water.  Beneath the pristine white surface was a faint flush of red.  At its core, wrapped around the piece of artificial magic that had become such an intrinsic part of him, Sans sensed the living pulse of Determination.  It would have worried him if it had been an entirely new development, but it was simply stronger than before.  'More' that it had been.  

Sans ran his thumb lightly across his soul's pliable surface, checking for cracks and finding none.  It's light may have been weak in comparison to what he'd normally expect, but it was there.  Unchanged and present.  There was no darkness in him nor any other external force at play beyond things that had been present in him, in one form or another, for so long already.  As far as Sans was concerned, that's what mattered.  He released the magical core and let it fade from sight, sinking back into his body where it belonged.  The smile that stretched across his features was a bit more relaxed and genuine than it had been.  “i think i'm okay.”

Papyrus sighed, his shoulders dipping in a way that reminded Sans of the air being slowly let out of an overinflated balloon.  “Thank goodness.”

Sans's eye lights sparked with mischief.  This was a prime opportunity for some familiar, comfortable heckling.  A few bad puns and he'd have Papyrus back to his old screaming self.  He even had the perfect one, a joke so bad yet so perfectly timed that it was sure to derail this awful pity train!  But … he couldn't.  Papyrus had asked him not to joke about this, and he'd agreed.  No matter how uncomfortable it made Sans to leave the truth there, lurking between them like the ugly specter it was, that's what he had to do.  His brother needed the truth, even if it hurt.  And maybe, though he'd never admit it, Sans needed it this time too.  

He let Papyrus haul him out of bed, no matter how reluctant he was to abandon the secluded comfort of his room, and even let his brother fuss over him some when he swayed on his feet.  He'd just woken up and he already felt drained, that just wasn't fair.  Sure, him being low on energy was safer for everyone right now, but if he was going to be forced to take an impromptu transformation-induced nap the least the universe could do was make him feel refreshed once he woke up.  He was still grumbling under his breath about the utter lack of common decency from the forces that be when they descended the stairs leading to the brothers' overly crowded living room.  

Toriel was camped out on the couch, Frisk sitting at her feet, and Undyne lurked near the window.  Though it looked like the warrior had been keeping watch at her self-designated post, her attention, along with that of the other two in the room, was now firmly fixed on the brothers.  Sans could feel the weight of their gaze pressing down on him, their anxiousness and expectation smothering in the confines of the small house.  He forced himself to wave with the minimum amount of effort that such an action could possibly require.  “hey.”

“Hey,” Undyne replied with forced cheer, her booming voice almost hollow.  “Look who's up.  Took ya long enough.”

Sans shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets with a well practiced casual air.  “you know me, can't resist a good nap.”

Papyrus gave him a little nudge towards the couch where Toriel sat and Sans eagerly took the hint.  He trudged over and let himself fall onto its well worn softness, more grateful that he'd have liked to admit to be off his shaky legs again.  He slouched against the lumpy cushions

Toriel placed a warm, broad hand on his arm, drawing his attention.  “Are you feeling alright?” she asked, her features pinched with worry.  

“ya, i ...” the words caught in his throat.  He couldn't stand the concern in her eyes, a look so very much like the one Papyrus had stared him down with not long ago.  It demanded the truth.  “i'm doing okay.  tired and kinda achy, but okay.”

Frisk hopped up onto the couch, the small human wriggling between them and pressing against his side.  Their small arms wrapped around his waist.  For just a moment, Sans couldn't help but be afraid.  The atrocities this deceptively small creature had wrought weren't something that he could easily cast aside.  The swath of death and destruction that they'd carved through the underground had been carved into his soul as well, and not just thanks to the knife that had sliced through his ribs.  He knew just how strong those thin arms truly were.  How they could crush an unsuspecting monster, grinding them into dust.  But the human's grip was gentle now.  Their tiny hands, clean without the faintest traces of dust, clung to his shirt as if he were the strong one.  

Sans set his hand on their head, running spindly fingers through dark brown hair, and when Frisk looked up at him with that same pleading concern he'd seen from the others it didn't hurt the way he'd been expecting it to.  “it'll be alright kid,” he said, soft and soothing.  “we'll figure this out.”

Undyne cleared her throat in a glaringly deliberate sort of way.  “Hate to break up this sap-fest, but we do have a problem here.”  

Sans sighed, the movement of his hands slowing to the point of stillness.  Damn, he did not want to face this yet.  If ever.  “ya, i know.”

“It really was him,” Toriel said if only to break the uneasy silence threatening to take over.  Her voice was low and soft with barely hidden distress, and Sans couldn't help but feel all the more guilty for dragging her into this mess.  

“Mister ex-royal scientist.  And apparently your dad.”  Undyne hissed under her breath, running a hand through the thin fringe of crimson hair that had pulled itself free of her tightly bound mane.  “Shit.”  

Papyrus shifted his weight from foot to foot, too anxious to stop moving entirely but unwilling to let other, more obvious nervous habits show how upset this whole thing truly made him.  “He recognized us.  I thought … maybe, that was a good thing.  That he'd stop and listen to us.  But … but he … “  

Though each person present knew what Papyrus was trying to say, none of them stepped up to say it themselves.  Sans didn't need to look at them to know why.  Whatever it was that had happened to him when he'd changed, it had certainly left an impression.  

Toriel straightened where she sat, the subtle movement easily drawing the attention of those around her.  “Sans, you said that a part of Gaster came back, but not all of him.  If you know something that would be helpful in this situation,” her large hand squeezed his shoulder, a fraction of her true strength making itself known, “I do wish you would tell us.”

Sans fixed his smile in place as surely as if it had been carved in stone.  His eye lights flickered faintly as his gaze darted from person to person.  For a moment he locked eyes with Papyrus and saw his own apprehension reflected back at him.  Then he blinked and it was gone, stowed away beneath so many layers of forced optimism and needless bravado that anyone else could pretend it didn't exist at all.  

The younger skeleton squared his shoulders, puffing up his chest as if he had something to prove in this room full of their patchwork family.  “I can tell them brother.”

“nah, it's okay pap.”  Much as it pained him to let an easy out slip by him, Sans knew that there were some things that you just have to do on your own.  Even with his brother's memory rapidly returning, there were still important things that Papyrus didn't know.  Things he'd never known, and that Sans had wished he'd never need to learn.  But if letting those demons out was what it took to protect his only remaining family from the thing now stalking him, then so be it.  “it isn't coming back that did it to him.  hell it wasn't even the accident that scattered him in the first place.  the old man had lost his soul a long time before that.”

“The hell?” Undyne all but shouted, her jagged teeth bared in a sneer of disbelief.  “If he'd lost his soul, he would have dusted.  No one can survive something like that, not even a boss monster.”

“heh, you'd think so.  but, nope.  ol' doc was too determined to die.”  Sans snickered at his own awful joke, even though he didn't find it the slightest bit funny.  “he was researching all sorts of crazy stuff.  powerful magic.  human magic.  things went wrong and, well, turns out that stuff can help you survive just about anything.  even having your soul ripped out of your body and scattered to the far corners of space-time.”

He had no proof that Gaster's soul had been scattered rather than simply destroyed.  In fact it would have made a lot more sense if the explosion that nearly killed his father truly had ripped his soul to shreds, the essence of his being dissolving away like so much scattered construct dust.  But, no matter how many times he tied to convince himself of the more rational and probably possibility, Sans could never fully believe it.  Gaster's body had returned, its dispersed fragments coming together and reforming on the cavern floor as the melted parody of a monster that now stalked him.  And Sans was willing to bet everything that his soul had met the same fate.  If only it could reform just as easily.  

“Wait, human magic?”  Undyne's yellow eyes darted to Frisk for a fraction of a second.  “I saw something when that guy was playing magic tug-o-war with you.  Like a bright red flash.  Was that this 'human magic' you're talkin' about?”

Sans tensed, his teeth pressed together in a grin so tight it felt like his jaw was going to crack.  He'd known it already, logically speaking.  The surge of heat and power he'd felt upon waking, the red pulse within his own soul, the sensation of something so powerful thrumming just below the surface of his own life force, there was no denying that he'd been exposed to a fresh does of Determination.  Still, knowing that on a technical, intuitive sort of level and hearing about it from someone else were very different things.  “ya,” he managed to say, forcing the word out with a flat, empty parody of his own voice.  “that was it alright.”

Frisk's arms tightened around his waist, their tiny fists clutching the fabric of his shirt.  He thought he heard them whimper, breath hitching softly, but that might have just been his imagination.  Sans didn't look down at them, he just couldn't bring himself to, but he did begin combing his fingers through their hair once more.  

“But, how?” Toriel asked in genuine confusion.  “Monster magic and human magic don't mix.  They can't.  Not without … “  She trailed off, a flash of something painful shining clear and raw in her eyes.  Toriel knew what it took to truly fuse the power of a monster and a human.  She'd seen it and the thing it had turned her only son into.  

“wish i could tell you, but i don't understand it all that well myself.  i know he took magic from living souls and separated it out somehow.  that's what he infused monsters with.  but i don't know how he got it to work right.  not that it actually did work right very often.”  Sans slouched a bit lower into the couch cushions, wishing he could just disappear into them like a lost button and never be seen again.  

“Okay,” Undyne interjected, hijacking the conversation to steer it away from a topic that had clearly upset everyone else in the room.  “So, he's soulless because of shady experiments with human magic that, let's face it, were probably a bad idea from the start.  What I don't get is how we wound up in this mess to begin with.  After all this time, how'd he come back?  And why now?”

Eager to put all thoughts of DT behind him for as long as possible, Sans latched on to the comparatively safer topic.  “i think it had something to do with breaking the barrier.  he first showed up in the cavern that leads to the surface, right where the barrier used to be.”  He suppressed a little shudder at the thought of that dripping black sludge slowly rising up from the darkness, grinning as it stared at him, eyeless and empty.  “even i didn't recognize him then, so he must have been … i dunno … still re-forming, or something.”

“But he didn't have any connection with the barrier.  Did he?”

“not that i know of, but it took a lot of energy to break that thing.”  The energy of seven human souls, to be exact.  More than was theoretically possible for a single being to control.  “maybe, that much power acted as a kind of beacon.  something for all those scattered pieces to latch on to.  and once they were close, they just kinda stuck to each other.”  It wasn't much to go on, a loose theory at best, but it was the only possible explanation that made any sense.  Nothing happens completely by accident.  There's always some factor, however small, that sparks a change.  At least that's what his own experience had taught him.  

Frisk finally released their death grip on his waist, pushing away as they sat up straight.  This time he was sure he heard them whimper as they pressed their face into one baggy blue sleeve.  Sans knew the sound of barely suppressed crying when he heard it.  But why?  What could have made the kid so upset that … ooh.  The barrier.  Frisk had been the one to break it, through means that not even Sans could fully grasp, and now he'd just told them that doing so had caused this whole nightmare.  Well shit.

“hey, don't you go getting carried away kid.  you did a good thing back there, alright?  i wouldn't wanna change a thing about how it all ended up, and neither should you.”

Something wordless passed between them, carried along by carefully chosen words and a veiled hardness in the pinpoint lights burning brightly in his sockets.  Frisk met his gaze, their mouth pressed into a thin, trembling line.  They didn't say a word.  They didn't need to.  

“Sans is right little one,” Toriel said, warm with motherly sweetness.  “Whatever unintended consequences these past few days might have brought with them, you have done nothing wrong.”  She embraced the small human, wrapping them up in her arms.  “If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have hope for a new future.  You fought so hard for all of us.  Now it's our turn.  We will find a way to fix this, and everything will be alright again.”

Frisk nodded, but Sans could still see a glint of something painful in their guilt-ridden gaze.  They buried their face in the soft purple fabric of Toriel's dress, hiding against her like the lost child they truly were, reality warping powers or not.  

“Ya,” said Undyne, her own natural boisterousness making her sound a lot more sure than she actually looked.  “You just leave Gaster to us and we'll send him packing!  We've just gotta figure out how.”

“how'd you get the doc to back off this last time?” Sans asked.  He was genuinely curious about how that whole encounter had played out, minus his own involvement of course.  One way or another, they had managed to stop Gaster and free him from the the soulless man's control.  Sans wasn't sure if he would be able to sense Gaster's presence without the other actively trying to channel his magic, but he doubted that the others would be so calm if that goopy horror show of a monster was still lurking around.  

“While I was keeping you out of trouble, these two teamed up and went after him.”  She slung an arm around Papyrus's shoulders, dragging him into one of her patented affectionate friend noogies.  Sans was glad he'd never been subjected to one of those, they looked like they kind of hurt.  “Good thing too, that slippery bastard was too quick for a solo fighter to hit.  I've never seen anybody dodge that fast.”

Papyrus grinned as he managed to extract himself from his friend's hold.  “Well, we did make a rather formidable team.  I kept him busy so he couldn't dodge and the queen,” he stopped himself with a frankly hilarious looking flinch,  “sorry, I mean former queen, used her fire magic to defeat him.”

Toriel smiled in a bashful sort of way that made it clear she was likely blushing under her thick white fur.  “I wouldn't have been able to do much on my own.  But yes, once we were able to corner him, we did manage to do some damage.  It was strange though, he didn't react like a normal person would.  Perhaps it has something to do with his, umm, 'condition'.  After that, he vanished without a trace.”  She turned her gaze back to Sans, pinning him with tentative hope.  “ Could he have gone back to wherever it is he came from?”

“i … uh, maybe?”  It was possible that Gaster had retreated back to the space beyond space where the parts of his being had been previously scattered.  But, even if that really was where he'd gone, Sans wasn't sure if that was a good thing.  If he'd come back from there once, who's to say he couldn't do it again?  And the thought of someone unbound by the compassion and morality of a soul having free access to both dimensions, well it wasn't good to say the least.  

Undyne crossed her arms and scowled, no doubt thinking along the same lines as he had.  “Call me paranoid, but I don't think we've seen the last of that freak.  No offense.”

“none taken.”

“Wait a second,” Papyrus said suddenly, gesturing with his hands like he sometimes did when a new idea had him all excited.  “Dad, I mean Gaster, lost his soul in the accident.  Sans, you said it was scattered the same way his body was.  So, it still exists in some form, right?”

Sans hunched his shoulders, shrinking down a bit as if that would let him go unnoticed and avoid the direction he suspected this conversation was headed in.  “well, i mean … theoretically.”

“If his soul really is out there somewhere, then … ”  Papyrus turned towards him, light sparking in his eye sockets.  “Brother, do you think his soul might come back the same way his body did?”

“pap … “  Sans felt torn.  He wanted to give his brother hope, wanted it more than anything, but in this case, that kind of hope might do more harm than good.  The chances of Gaster coming back at all had been astronomical, but his soul somehow surviving and managing to come back too?  He just didn't see how it was possible.  “it's not that easy.  his body existed without his soul before then, so reforming like that wasn't a problem.  but a soul with no body?”  

“So we'll get something that can keep his soul stable until we figure out a way to fix him.  Something like the containment units used to hold human souls.”  Papyrus flinched at his own words, glancing over at where Frisk sat curled up in Toriel's arms.  “I'm sorry friend Frisk, I didn't mean to bring that up so carelessly.”

Toriel looked up at him, all attempts at burying her own sadness in order to comfort him proving useless.  “Papyrus, just because something works on a human doesn't mean it's going to work on a monster.  A boss monster maybe, if we were incredibly lucky and worked very fast, but other than that?  Monster souls don't last long after death, you know that.”  

“But this is a special case!  He had human magic, even before the accident.  Maybe he's used enough of it that his soul will be able to survive, so long as we act quickly.  The pieces of it have lasted this long wherever they are, right Sans?”

“maybe.  there was never a way to know for sure.”  All he'd had were theories.  Hunches.  The nagging feeling that some part of their father had survived despite the odds.  He couldn't explain it, he simply believed that it was true.  And for Sans, who didn't believe in much of anything anymore, that really meant something.  But belief hadn't been enough to change the grim reality he'd found himself in before, and he doubted it would be now.  “pap, just … don't get your hopes up.  okay?  i already tried everything i could to bring him back and nothing worked.”

“That's just because you were trying alone.  You don't have to do that anymore Sans.  We can all remember now, so we can help you.”  Papyrus crossed the gap between them in two long strides and grasped his brother's hands tightly in his own.  “Together we can do this.”

“And in the meantime, if mister goopy horror shows his melty face here again, queen Toriel and I will kick his ass!”  Undyne punched at the air enthusiastically, as if violently dispersing some phantom image of the man in question.  “He may be a part of your dad and all, but after the shit he pulled, I don't think we should take any chances letting him get close.”

“Agreed,” Papyrus said cheerily, though his expression softened with worry a moment later.  “Please do try not to kill him though.”

Sans felt something intangible constrict inside him.  The two of them were so excited.  So hopeful.  Even Toriel looked like the self-imposed burden she carried was just a little bit lighter than it had been.  But Sans couldn't hope the way they did.  They didn't understand that when he said he'd tried to bring Gaster back, he meant he'd tried everything.  The machine couldn't be fixed, no matter how many endless days he spent working on it as the flow of time skipped and sputtered around him, and he knew of no other way to even attempt to retrieve what remained of his father from the void beyond their reality.  It was hopeless.  But, as he looked at the smiling faces around him, he couldn't bring himself to tell them that.  Let them have their hope, he decided.  Hell, maybe they'd be able to see something he couldn't.  After all, things had changed.  Now they had the convergence point that the breaking of the barrier had created.  Maybe between that and a few more people working on the problem, he'd finally find the breakthrough that had alluded him for so long.  Against his better judgment, Sans started to hope too.  

“okay.  why not.  let's give it a try.”

Undyne cackled with something akin to manic glee.  “Alright!  Mission 'Soul Retrieval' is go!  What do we do first?”