CHAPTER 21: Unending Silence

Snowdin was a quiet, sleepy little town.  Not much happened here, nothing much changed.  A perpetual air of familiarity and comfort hung over the cozy little town. And it was cozy . . .

Had been cozy.

Had been full of warm, friendly people with warm, friendly faces.  Faces that grinned and bore their less-than-idyllic circumstances bravely.

Had been.

But now Snowdin was quiet for a much more sinister reason.  The silent air was filled, not with the peaceful calm of a sleepy little village, but of a place holding its breath, afraid to even breathe, lest the slightest errant noise give them away.  It was a night filled with terror and fear.

And the frozen air was shattered by a terrible scream.  A scream of horror and dread.  A scream of someone who remembered far too much, of someone remembering actions that were not entirely their own.  Things they had done without even knowing, and the terrible weight of VIOLENCE clinging to their soul.

Papyrus was all but inconsolable.

Undyne and Sans were at his side, doing whatever pathetic meager things they could do to comfort him, both hideously and woefully inadequate with such things.  But damn it, Undyne would try.

She told him, again and again, he did what he had to do.  He survived.  The human left him no choice.  If he didn’t fight back, the human would have killed him like all the monsters before him. And she told him how thankful she was that he was here. Yet still he could not be comforted.  The visions flashed in his head of what happened--what he had done--and he simply couldn't--he just couldn't, he couldn't!--believe that he had done that. "But it wasn't you!" Undyne tried to plead.  "Papyrus, I know you better than anyone, you would never do something so terrible, even if you wanted to!" "But I did," was all he replied before he dissolved into a sobbing mess. Undyne and Sans stayed by his side for many hours, offering what little they could for him, and eventually Papyrus stopped, if only because he had exhausted himself.  He was still so very tired.  Though he did not initially fall asleep, he became completely distant and unresponsive to anything either of them said.  He just laid on his bed, so still and so quiet he could have been sleeping.  And with little else to do, they left him.  He must have much to think about.  They would try again.  Undyne would keep trying.  Because she meant what she said; no matter how scared she was or how horrible it was, she was glad her friend Papyrus was still alive.  She'd take that over him being gone any day.  And he'd realize that, too.  Eventually. Papyrus was tough.  The toughest monster Undyne knew!  And if anyone could come back from something like this, it was Papyrus!  Papyrus always saw the good in everyone!  Hell, he saw the good in that evil little brat that came barging in and slaughtering everyone!  If he thought that thing deserved mercy, then he'd realized he himself deserved the same! . . . Right?

--

It was unlike Sans, but after everything, he felt the overwhelming urge for some fresh air. Making sure Papyrus was alright, sound asleep and not waking up anytime soon, Sans headed out for a stroll around Snowdin.  Perhaps a walk would help clear his head.  Or just make everything worse, as he took in the ghost town around him.

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to how quiet everything was now.

The wind whistled like an eerie whisper through the frozen pine trees, the wooden limbs creaking and groaning, the snow crunching like thunder with every footfall.  There should be other noises, distant laugher and conversation, other footfalls, other people.

But there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

”Hee hee hee.”

Sans stopped.  He knew that laugh.  He craned his head back, letting out an aggravated groan. Normally, seeing that little flower instantly fueled a raging fire in his heart, but he was too tired to care much. He was as exhausted as Papyrus was. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with him.

“What do you want?” Sans sighed, digging his hands into his pockets.  His voice was tired and bored.  He just didn’t care right now.  Couldn’t be bothered to care.

The little yellow flower appeared in front of him, happily bouncing back and forth as his little evil grin split his face.  “Oh, isn’t this wonderful and new!  Wowie, never thought I’d see the day where I would see Papyrus break!  I always tried so hard before, you know!  I even tried possessing him!  But nothing worked.  Until now!  Hee hee hee hee!”

Sans continued to look down, bored and unimpressed.  “Wow. Congratulations.”

Flowey slowed, his grin fading just a little bit.  “It was fun, seeing him all sobbing and crying and wailing!  It was so exciting!  I’ve never heard him cry so hard before!”  But then, his face fell.  Flowey sighed in contempt.  “But the excitement didn’t last as long as I wanted it to.  Having Papyrus being so depressed and mopey for so long isn’t nearly as fun as I thought it was going to be.  It’s so boring.  It’s just you all over again, and it’s BORING!  He just sits and cries and cries and cries.  Boy howdy, how dull.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry you are not completely enthralled and entertained by the state of things right now,” Sans said, rolling his eyes.  “if you’re so bored, you can just RESET, you know?”

“Ugh, and listen to all that annoying whining?  No thanks.” Flowey stuck out his tongue. “I’ve had my fill of that silly skeleton’s moping about.  Not as fulfilling as I thought it would be.  I’d rather him get over it and go back to doing stuff a little more fun.” He grinned wickedly.  “Like killing more people!  Hee hee hee!  That would be so much fun, wouldn’t it?”

Flowey was trying to bait a reaction out of Sans.  Sans knew it, and he was, conveniently, far too tired to have as much of an emotional outburst as Flowey was hoping.  “Yup, sure, that’d be swell.  Can I go now?”

Flowey huffed and pouted. “Gosh, neither of you are fun anymore!  Ugh! This is the worst timeline!  Can’t wait for that brat to RESET so they can kill your whiny little brother!  Later, you trash bag!”  And Flowey disappeared back beneath the snow.

Well.   That went well. --

Another night passed. Another night with the pub eerily silent and eerily empty.  Grillby’s was always full of monsters looking for a quick bite to eat and cold drinks to wash it down.  But over the last few days, the bar has been noticeably vacant.

It was missing over half of its regulars.  Empty chairs situated at empty tables, their former owners long gone, and no one daring to taint those sacred places, so accustomed were the customers to their usual spots, that those chairs had all but their former owners’ names engraved on them.

Even when the errant monster came in to eat, they hardly said much.  A solemn silence lingered.  It was hard to shake free of the tragedy that had ripped through this place. And even harder to forget how that tragedy came to a screeching halt.

When the human had come into the main town, word of what was on its way quickly spread.  Grillby had taken the current patrons and ushered them into the back room, where they barricaded themselves in.  They had managed to evade the human and escaped with their lives.  

But they had been close enough to hear what happened soon after.

The screams.  The terrible unearthly roars.  The quick, but horribly impossible to mistake sound of crunching bones and shredding flesh.

And then silence.

Grillby and the others had stayed there, huddled together, in total silence, for several hours, until they could be absolutely certain that whatever made that sound was gone. And Grillby ushered them all off to the safety of their own homes, one by one, eyes wide open and ever on the alert.

Grillby saw the red-stained snow before any of them.  He was quick to subtly and quietly guide them away before anyone else noticed.  And his flames grew cold as terrible realization hit him.

Because to him, those roars were very familiar.  Familiar, but different.  Distorted. Twisted into something monstrous. It didn’t take him long to put the pieces together himself.

Poor Papyrus. What could have possibly happened to drive him to such madness?

The question answered itself as he remembered a very similar scenario of a time long ago, where he was pushed into a corner, surrounded by merciless enemies, alone and stranded.

Grillby had reached deep inside to a darkness he didn’t know existed to unleash a wave of flames far more powerful than he ever thought possible.  Flames that left a crater of blackened ash and scorched bodies, humans cooked and charred alive in their metal suits of armor, turned red-hot by the sheer intensity of his flame.

Yes, he knew what could drive a monster to do something awful.  But he never imagined Papyrus being pushed to such desperation . . .

With a quiet sigh, he closed the restaurant, wiping down the already spotless bar top and the booths, turning the chairs on top of the tables and sweeping the floors.  Cleaning up was easier now.  Quicker.  Less messes. Less dishes.

He retired to his home for a night of restless sleep.  He rarely dreamed, and when he did, they were little more than noises and brief flickering images.  He rarely, if ever, remembered his dreams.

Tonight was different.

He was in a blackened room, featureless and empty.  He furrowed his eyes in confusion, looking about.  It was impossible to tell how big this room was, as there were no visible walls or ceiling, just a featureless expanse of blackness.

Behind him, no further than arm’s reach, was a silver door.

His hand reached to the handle.

He blinked, and now he was on an empty field.  The grass was black and scorched.  Spears and swords and empty armor pieces littered the ground.  Tattered and burnt flags flapped in the wind.  Grillby stared down at his hands, coated in blood and ash.

He blinked again.  He was back in the black room.  The door was open.  There was a voice.

You understand. You understand his pain and suffering.

Grillby shook his head. He never heard that voice before. But why was it so familiar?

Go to him.  Speak words of comfort.  

“I don’t understand,” Grillby called out, but his voice was muted.  He spoke, but couldn’t hear his own voice.

Help him.  You can help him.

“Who are you?”  Again, he could hear nothing.  

Please.

He blinked, and the door was closed.

He awoke in the morning, his alarm waking him with a gentle tune.  Grillby shook his head, switching off his alarm clock and sitting up in his bed.

What had all that been about?  He never had dreams so vivid and . . . poignant.

But he felt that whatever that had been, that voice, was right.  Grillby knew Papyrus must be so distraught with what happened. Grillby had been there before.  He understood.  

The voice was right, he realized grimly.  He could help Papyrus.  And he should.

Dressing, he decided the bar would remain closed today.  He walked across Snowdin.  Quiet, still, eerily silent little Snowdin, to the last house in the town before crossing over to Waterfall.  The lights were dark, but surely the residents must be awake.

He knocked on the door. It took a few minutes, and another knock before the door was answered by a very exhausted looking Sans.  The smaller skeleton blinked in surprise to see the fire elemental at his door.

“Hey, Grillby,” he said. “Uh, gotta admit, certainly wasn’t expecting to see your face around here.”

“I know it might be unconventional, but I did wish to stop by and see how the both of you were doing,” he said in his quiet, whispery voice.  “It wasn’t hard for me to realize what happened.  And I imagine that you and Papyrus must be feeling very distressed right now.”

Sans looked away.  “. . . yeah, that would be a pretty accurate assumption.”

Grillby hesitated. This might be out of line, unwanted help, but in his soul, he had to at least try.  “I . . . might be able to help him.”  Sans threw him a very curious look.  “I know what pain he must be experiencing right now.  I’ve been there.  Perhaps I can reach him.”  He paused, opening his hands.  “May I at the very least try?”

Sans considered it. It was an open secret that Grillby had fought in the war, but Grillby himself never spoke of it, or what he had been through.  No one had dared to ask, either.  Everyone knew better than to pry.  But at this point, what could it hurt?  Papyrus needed a pep-talk, and Sans wasn’t the one to do it.  He always loved dodging problems.  Trying to solve this one with his usual tricks wasn’t going to work. With a nod, he welcomed Grillby inside.

Grillby shucked off his coat and boots and ascended the stairs to Papyrus’s room.  Papyrus was sitting on his bed, knees pulled tightly to his chest and staring at the far wall, at absolutely nothing at all, completely lost in thought.  He didn’t even acknowledge Grillby entering as his warm orange fire-light spilled into the room.  Grillby looked back at Sans, who shrugged helplessly.

“He’s been like this for days,” Sans said quietly.  “He rarely responds to anything anymore.  He barely eats anything.  I don’t know what to do.”

Grillby nodded grimly. He strode into the room, taking the seat that had been set besides the bed.  On the nightstand was a plate of spaghetti, barely touched and stone cold.

“Hello, Papyrus,” Grillby said.  The skeleton didn’t respond.  “You must be going through a lot.  What you must be experiencing, well, I can hardly imagine it.”

Still, no response.

Grillby leaned back, hands folded in his lap as he let out a breath, sparks flitting out of the crack that was his mouth.  “I remember the day I first met you and your brother.  I don’t think I can ever forget such an exciting first encounter.” He smiled at that, but yet, the skeleton was unresponsive.  “You were very protective of your brother.  I remember you giving me the start of my life when you revealed yourself to me.  And how you loomed over me, so scared and shaking so badly, but refusing to leave your dear brother.  I admit, you were quite the sight!”  

Finally, something. He could see Papyrus shrink in on himself, pulling his legs tighter into him and lowering his head.

“But I mean that in the best of ways.  You always had other’s best interests at heart, even before your own.  No matter how scared you were of me, your first priority was of someone else.  Sans. I know you can be a bit overbearing, but inside you have a heart that is devoted to making people happy and doing your very best to see the very best in everyone.”

Papyrus remained silent still.

Grillby took a moment. This was the most he had spoken in a long time.  And he had much more to say.  He cleared his throat and continued.

“I know you must be thinking, ‘then, if I am so good, if I always see the best in others, then how could I do something so awful?’  Is that right?”

Very slowly, and with very subtle motions, Papyrus nodded.  Grillby smiled.  Ah, progress. He was getting there.  And he continued, slowly and gently.

“Let me ask you something. Do you think I am a good monster?”

Papyrus turned to look at him.  He looked so very sad, but he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and very, very quiet. “You took us in.  Gave us food and clothes.  And names.  You helped us.”

“All of those are very true. But they do not answer my question,” Grillby said patiently.  “Am I a good monster?”

“Yes,” Papyrus said, almost immediately.  “You were kind to us.”

“But how can that be?” Grillby asked.  “I killed people.  I have killed many humans.  How can I possibly be good?”

Papyrus scrunched up his face, fumbling over himself as he struggled for an answer.  “But you were protecting people.  You had to-“

“Ah, is that right?  I was protecting my friends, and thus it made it ok?”

Papyrus looked very uncertain.  “Well . . . it’s not right to hurt people.  You shouldn’t hurt people.  But you felt like you had to.  You felt it was the only way to protect them.”

“Then I am confused,” Grillby said.  “I killed many people, because I had to.  And you believe that I am a good monster.  So . . . why aren’t you?”

Papyrus looked away, curling into himself once again.  “Because . . . I didn’t mean to—I didn’t do it on purpose—I didn’t want to! But something . . .”  Papyrus clutched his chest.  “It made me hurt them.”

“So you even admit you are not responsible for what happened.  You are not to blame.  So why do you punish yourself like this?”

Papyrus looked away. He didn’t answer for a very long time. “Because maybe I could have stopped it. But I didn’t.  I couldn’t.  So it is my fault.”

“Let me ask you something else,” Grillby offered.  “Imagine if you stop breathing.  You force yourself to stop breathing and try not to breathe again.  How long do you think you can hold your breath before your body forces you to?”

Papyrus took a moment to think about it.

“My point is, you can’t force yourself to stop forever.  Eventually, your body will kick in and make you breathe again.  Your body will naturally do whatever it takes to survive. Because that’s how we are; we survive.  And our bodies will do whatever it takes to keep us alive.  Some of us fight just a little bit harder.”

Grillby looked away. “I know, because I found myself in a very similar scenario.  I was surrounded by humans who wanted me dead.  They were going to kill me . . .”  His hands intertwined, gripping each other tightly as the painful memory came back to him, and he looked away.  “I had no idea just what I was capable of until I was pushed to that edge.  I fought back.”

He let a long pause hang between them, Grillby dipping his head low.

“You may think the scenarios are different, but at the core, are they really?  We were forced to do something terrible because we had to.  And to make it worse, there were some humans I could have spared.  I could have just walked away.  But I didn’t. I hurt them, Papyrus. Because I was hurt and angry. Because I could.  And that’s worse, right?  Hurting others not to survive, but just because you can. Terrible, right?  And now, one final question for you.”  He looked Papyrus in the eye.  “Knowing all this, do you still think I am a good monster?”

Papyrus thought for a long time.  “That must have been awful,” he said quietly.  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”  Grillby nodded silently.  “But . . . still . . . after all that . . . you were still kind to us, and helped us, and protected us . . .”  There it was, that dawning realization.  Slow, but it was there.  “Even if you did something terrible, you did good things.”

Grillby patted his shoulder. “If you can see the good in me after all the things I did, then you have to find that same mercy and goodness for yourself.  Perhaps you do not need to forgive yourself.  Not yet.  But you should.  Eventually. Not because you know I did worse than you, but because you didn’t have a choice.  And perhaps you don’t forget.  Maybe you should never forget, and use them as a reminder to live your life to the fullest that was denied to them, and denied to the ones they killed.  Do it for them, Papyrus.  Step forward, move on.  Forgive yourself.  But don’t forget.  Don’t you think you deserve that?”

Papyrus contemplated this quietly for a while.

“Well, my doors are always open for you.  And if you need to speak more, know that I am happy to listen to whatever you want to say.” Grillby stood, turning to the door to leave.  He cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his shirt.  “After all, I think I’ve talked enough.  Hm, talked enough for the rest of the decade, perhaps.”

And as he left, he could have sworn he heard just the softest ‘Nyeh heh heh.’

--

The day after, Papyrus was . . . well, he wasn’t quite back to his full self, not yet, that would take time.  But he finally left his room.  He finally joined Sans at the kitchen table for breakfast.  He finally ate something, and not just one or two bites, but a full meal.  A small one, but a real one.  He was still very quiet and introspective, still thinking very hard about many things, but it seems he had shaken off the very worst of his depression.  Whatever Grillby had said to him seemed to have helped, and Papyrus was taking small steps to get himself back onto the right track.

He still didn’t stray too far from the house, but eventually Undyne had come over to visit.  She knocked on the door, and all but barged over Sans to run to Papyrus when she saw he was up and about.  She charged at the skeleton, wrapping him up in a suffocating hug and lifting him off his feet.

She was shaking.

“You’re ok,” she said. “Good.  You really scared me, you know?  Don’t do that again, got it, you punk?!”

She set him down, taking a step back and wiping the back of her hand across her eye.

“God, Papyrus . . . I don’t even know where to begin.  I’m just so sorry.  You don’t even know how sorry I am, man.  I’m just . . . I’m glad you’re alive.  Ok?  I don’t care about anything else, you know I would never think anything less of you, right?  I’m glad you’re alive.  You’re my best friend.  I don’t want to lose you.”

Very subtly, so subtly it could have been so easy to miss, the corner of Papyrus’s mouth twitched upwards. “Thank you, Undyne.”

“If there’s anything I can do to ever make it up to you-“

“I think if it’s alright with you, I’d rather we not talk about it right now,” Papyrus insisted quietly.  

Undyne dipped her head. “Right, right, of course, whatever you want.”  She thought, biting at her lip.  “Um, I have some crummy anime videos we can watch.  Or we can work on a puzzle or something.  Whatever you want.”

“Hm, maybe no puzzles today,” Papyrus said.  It was so weird to hear him speak so quietly.  His voice lacked that usual bombastic flamboyancy that allowed anyone to hear him clear across the Underground.  But now Undyne found she actually had to strain to hear him. “I suppose I will have to do with your children cartoons.”  

Undyne barked a laugh. She wouldn’t rib him too hard for his joke, because he was joking!  And that was beyond a relief to hear that he still had his sense of humor.  He was getting better, and that was a reassurance Undyne desperately needed right now.  “Alright, we’ll watch my little kiddie cartoons.  I have the very best of the best!”

They situated themselves in the living room, wrapping themselves up in blankets and fixing themselves up some tea, huddling together as they watched the eye-searing bright magical schoolgirls fight off bad guys of all shapes and sizes.  Papyrus didn’t say much, and neither did Undyne.  But sometimes just being there was good enough. And she was happy to be here.  And she was happy Papyrus was here.

But despite everything, something nagged at her.  And it wouldn’t leave her alone.

“Hey, Papyrus?” she said.  He turned to look at her.  “I know you didn’t want to talk about it, and I promise I’m not going to ask about what you think I am but . . . how the hell did Flowey know?”

Papyrus blinked in confusion.  “How did Flowey know what?”

“How did Flowey know how to do . . . you know . . .”  She trailed off and gestured to him.  “I mean, he knew exactly what to do to make you . . . do that.  So he must have known about it!”

Papyrus only looked even more puzzled.  “I am certain that I’ve never shown him that before.  I mean, not even I knew about it.”

“Yeah, so what the hell?”

The two lapsed into an uneasy silence, puzzling over this.

Sans had been around, and he overheard the conversation.  He was just standing at the periphery of the family room with one foot in the kitchen.  And it seemed the conversation caught his attention.  

Undyne looked up at him, also remembering something else.  “Wait a minute . . . I remember your story about what happened to Gaster. The same thing happened to you, didn’t it?  When you dumped him into the CORE or whatever?  You . . . uh . . .”  Undyne made a clawing motion.  “That explains why afterwards you were out for so long, just like Papyrus was.”

Sans slowly nodded. “Yeah . . .”

“And that’s why you were so scared,” Papyrus said with horrible realization.  “That’s why you were so scared of it.”

Again, uneasy silence. Sans only nodded, shrugging in attempt to bring levity to the situation.  “So it seems like Flowey knew about me, and then made a leap of assumptions about you,” Sans said.

“Brother, I’m so sorry for bringing up such unpleasant memories!  If I had known, I would have never pressured you so earnestly!” Papyrus said.

“It’s not your fault,” Sans insisted.  “I never spoke of it, I never answered any of your questions, I kept you in the dark on purpose.  How were you to know?”  He shoved his hands in his pockets, he too thinking about recent events.  

Flowey.

Of course he caused all this.  And that meant the little weed reset enough times before the human reloaded their SAVE to figure out how to trigger Papyrus’s feral side.  Well, that made sense.  But something else was on his mind, something he hadn’t considered.

Flowey, the human . . .

Why hadn’t the human RESET by now?

Though it was a long time ago (was it?  Eh, time travel and RESETS got messy and complicated, who even knew) Sans remembered the first time he met the human in the Golden Halls after they killed everyone. He remembered their eager, hungry gleam in their blood-red eyes.  He remembered how excited they were to finally face off against him.

And he remembered how that brat hardly lasted two seconds into their very first fight.

He remembered the first time they came back.  That look of total shock, mixed with horror, awe, and bewilderment.  But there was that all-too-familiar glint of determination, that steel resolve to persevere and defeat him.  They had been noticeably shaken, but they hadn’t let them stop that for a second.  They were all too eager to try again and again and again and again.  However many times it took, they wouldn’t stop until Sans was defeated.

Not until several dozens of tries later until they finally did have to take a break, but the point was, he remembered how quickly they RESET and came back for more, determined to beat him.

Yet, one go against Papyrus, and they hadn’t RESET for days.

For some reason, that was the most disturbing part of this whole ordeal.  Their determination was unlike anything Sans had seen.  And they gave up after one go?  It wasn’t like them.

Why hadn’t the human RESET by now?  

“Sans?  You alright?” Papyrus piped up.

“Huh?”  Sans jerked upright, realizing he had gotten lost in his own thoughts.  “Oh, yeah, it’s nothing, just thinking.”

“Well, let us know if you come up with any grand revelations,” Undyne said.  “And if you see Flowey again, kick his ass.”

Sans grinned darkly. “I’ll certainly kick him in the bud.”

Papyrus groaned.  “I was going to scorn you because I don’t think anyone else needs to get hurt, but that pun makes me retract my statement.”

“God, Papyrus, you are way too nice,” Undyne said.

Sans chuckled.  He dipped out of the house.  It was time to visit Hotland and drop in on Alphys.  He knew about all her cameras, and if anyone had a clue about what happened, she would know.

He winced inwardly. Watching the video was not something he was looking forward to in the least.  But it was the only way to find out what happened.

He knocked on the lab, and as expected, it took quite a bit of persistence for the doors to open.  In fact, they didn’t open at all.  Sans had to call Alphys, and after that went to voicemail, he tried texting hr.  No answer. So then he went to her social media channels and dropped her a message there.  No dice.  Getting a little impatient (this was important, dammit) he finally resorted to using a shortcut to teleport inside.  He wouldn’t normally use his little trick to invade someone’s space, but dire times call for dire measures and all that.

“Al?” he called out. “Al, you home?”

A squeaky wheel caught his attention as a box-shaped figure came rolling down the dark and dimly-lit labs. It was Mettaton, arms on his hips and making a bee-line straight for Sans.  It was hard to gauge his attitude, but seeing as he was free of his usual dramatics, it seemed serious indeed.

“She’s not seeing anyone today, darling,” Mettaton said flatly.  His arms crossed his chest.  “I’ll have to kindly ask you to leave.  She’s not well.”

“Hey, Mets.  I know it’s rude to drop in like this, but it’s important.”

“I can imagine.  But my answer remains.  She’s not well.  She needs rest after the dreadful things she’s been through, and she’s certainly in no mood for visitors-“

“Sans?”

Both turned upwards to the escalator, where Alphys was standing.  She looked terrible.  Her scales were a dull grey-gold color, massive bags hung under her eyes, her glasses were skewed and smudged, and her clothes were filthy.  It looked like she hadn’t had a shower in those last few days.

“S-S-Sans?  What are y-y-you doing here?” she asked.

“Oh, darling, don’t mind him, I was simply seeing him out,” Mettaton said, then put a hand on Sans’ shoulder and began to wheel to the door.  “You get some beauty rest, lovely, I’m sure it can wait.”

“N-n-no, it’s o-ok,” Alphys insisted.  She stepped on the escalator and descended to the lower floor, slowly shuffling up to the both of them.  Despite her shabby and exhausted appearance, she looked strangely alert.  “I-i-is Papyrus ok?”

“He’s getting there,” Sans assured.  “A little pep-talk did wonders for him.  It’ll be a bit before he’s back up to snuff, but he’ll get there.”

The scientist cracked a smile.  “T-t-t-that’s good.  I’m happy h-he’s doing better.”  Mettaton, seeing the situation was handled, quietly left the two alone.  Alphys lowered her head, the smile vanishing. “It’s t-t-t-terrible what happened. I c-c-c-can’t stop thinking about it. It’s j-just a-a-a-awful.”  Sans silently placed a hand on her shoulder. She sniffled, but bucked up and shrugged it off.  “So . . . you didn’t come all this way f-f-for little ol’ me!  What can I do for you?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t need an excuse to see a fellow science pal, do I?” Sans joked.  “Who else could appreciate my puns on subatomic particle structure?”

Alphys snorted.  “Oh, gosh, please don’t.  They’re so bad.”

“Aw, they always get such a positive reaction out of you.”

“That hardly makes any sense!” she cried, but that seemed to do the trick.  She was smiling and laughing.  A definite improvement.  Mission success.

And now to totally ruin it.

“But I do need your help,” he said seriously.  “There’s something that’s been bugging me.  And . . . Alphys, I need to see the footage of the battle between my brother and the human.”

Alphys’s face went sheet-white.  Her eyes went wide, her pupils tiny, and her jaw dropped wide open.

There was a very long pause.

”What?” she squeaked.

“You don’t have to watch it with me,” he insisted.  “You can just tell me where they are, and I can fetch them and watch them by myself. I know how . . . yeah, it’s bad. You can literally do anything else, I don’t mind.  But I have to see it.”

“But . . . why?!” Alphys blubbered.  “It’s horrible, Sans!”

“I know,” he said grimly. “But something’s up, and I think the fight may have something to do with it.”

Alphys simply shook her head.  “I don’t get it.”

“I think the human’s RESETs might be messed up somehow.  Can you help me?”

She reeled, but slowly, she nodded.  She knew a little bit about the RESETs.  Maybe not as much as Sans, but she did have first-hand experience of them through her time with the determination experiments and Flowey.  “I-I-I guess.  If it’ll help you.  H-h-h-here, let me show you.”

“Thanks, Al, you’re the best.”

She walked over to her massive computer, and with a few clicks, it powered on and she navigated through a whole bunch of folders until she found the video clips she was looking for. It didn’t escape Sans’ notice just how quickly and efficiently she found those files.

“T-t-t-this one,” she said grimly.  “This camera has the best angle of the fight.”  She clicked it and opened it up.

Sans stared at her. “You don’t have to watch this.”

She shrugged, numb. “Yeah, I know.  But I’ve watched it enough.  I th-th-th-think I’m like, totally de-s-s-s-sensitized to any sort of v-v-v-violence now.  Heh.”

Sans just looked at her, but didn’t want to press her.  She was a wreck as is.  So he turned back to the computer and steeled himself for what he was about to see.

The fight was just as dark and disturbing as he remembered, and there were times he had to even look away. He asked Alphys to turn the volume off, to which she was all too happy to oblige.  He watched the whole thing, which, thankfully, wasn’t too long.

He frowned.  “Can you play it again?”

Alphys inhaled deeply, squeezing her eyes shut, but she did as he asked.  She played the video again.  

They said nothing as they watched.  It was just too grim.  Too grim for Sans to even dare cracking a joke.  There was a time and a place for joking.  This was not it.

It was actually Alphys that noticed it first.  She leaned forward, peering at the screen, adjusting her glasses.  She took them off and cleaned them on her food-stained shirt before shoving them up on her snout.  “Huh.  Do you see that?”

“What?”

Alphys paused the video right at the end of the fight, the Blaster beast looming over the body of the human.  She zoomed in, right onto the body.  It was a disturbing sight with all sorts of shades of reds mixed together.  So that might be why Sans hadn’t noticed it at first.

But Alphys, who had been forced to watch this very clip dozens, if not hundreds of times, was able to notice the subtle details.

“Is that . . . is that their SOUL?”

Sans leaned closer, trying to pick out what Alphys was seeing.  And she was right.  Right there, floating just above the human, nearly perfectly camouflaged by the sea of red around them, was a glowing red heart.  

A human SOUL.

Sans slowly nodded. “Ok . . . yeah?  And?”

“S-s-so we know human SOULS can last a little while outside the body, right?  Well, watch what happens next-“  She clicked the play button.

What happened next was that the beast—it wasn’t Papyrus, Sans refused to acknowledge it as such—craned its neck down and unhinged its massive jaws.  It shot its laser beam right down on the human, all but vaporizing the body.

Sans nodded.  Yeah, he remembered this part.

But Alphys had a much more noticeable reaction.  She let out a soft ‘oh no!’ as she rewound the video and played it, frame by frame.  And Sans saw what Alphys had seen.

The beast hadn’t just fired its blaster attack on the human body, but on the SOUL itself.  Sans had seen SOULS shatter before; just like dropping a pane of glass.  Literally shattering into a million pieces.

But as they carefully watched one frame at a time, the blast hadn’t shattered the SOUL.  The SOUL had, piece by piece, disintegrated.

Realization hit the both of them like a cement truck.  “He didn’t just kill the human.  He destroyed the human’s SOUL,” Sans breathed.

Alphys, completely numb from this revelation, could only stare.  “Y-y-y-your blast attack can destroy SOULS?!”

Sans was reeling.  He put a hand to his head and had to find a chair to sit down.

That utter madman. Was this Gaster’s true plan?  Was this the true nature of their forms?  To not just kill humans but to utterly destroy them?!

He remembered Gaster saying he was making them into weapons. But this—

“That psychopath,” Sans muttered.  “I had no idea . . . we can do that?!”

“Y-y-y-yeah. S-s-s-seems so,” she said, her voice incredibly faint.  “So . . . what does that mean?”

The SOUL hadn’t shattered. It was destroyed.

The human didn’t RESET because they couldn’t.

The human was more than dead.

Their SOUL was gone.

A cold chill gripped Sans’ body.