Sans sat on the low, wide windowsill of his room. Beyond the glass stretched leagues of thick forest, layers of snow threading the trunks. His chosen distraction proved too potent; he was so deeply immersed in the dense adventure novel in his hands, that he failed to hear several calls of his name.

“Sans,” Calibri, his mom, sounded exasperated and short of breath as she reached the threshold of his room. Her stomach, swelled with pregnancy, made the stairs a proper workout.

He earmarked his page before shutting the book.

“Sorry.”

“Are you ready? Come here.” Obediently, he shuffled closer. His mother bent with some effort, and she deftly unfurled the jumbled mess he’d made of his tie, and fixed it into a proper knot. “Just like your father.”

Sans’ small grin dimmed. Calibri doused the candles and grabbed his hand, to lead him downstairs.

“Let’s go, little bone. We mustn’t be late. The King will be there.”

In addition to financing the ceremony itself, King Asgore graciously provided them with a carriage for transportation to New Home. Their chauffeur, a centaur, helped Calibri up into the carriage. Sans hopped up in after her, and their chauffeur shut the door to their gilded vehicle. The carriage was covered in a gold paint, floral embellishments carved into the wood. The two windows were buffed to perfection. A small candle, contained within a bolted-down lantern in the carriage, was their one source of light; once “night” fell, shop keeps and guards doused any lanterns in the town. Like many things, oil and candles were rationed.

Grandpa Semi was already seated inside the carriage, waiting for the pair of them. Calibri and Sans took seats on the bench across from him. There was a quick jolt as the chauffeur lifted the carriage from the front, and they started to move. Grandpa Semi nudged Sans’ leg with his cane.

“Chin up now, Sansy.” Grandpa Semi’s eyelights flicked to Calibri and back to him again. Sans gave a small nod. He had to be strong for his mom, now.

The carriage ride passed silently, save for the muffled clop of the centaur’s hooves. Calibri stared out the window, watched the forest blur. Sans marveled inwardly at the sheer power of their chauffeur; he hauled the heavy carriage and them, its cargo, effortlessly.

Grandpa Semi coughed once, twice, the sound a deep rattle in his ribcage. He fished a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and patted it against his teeth and chin. His chronic cough had set in one day and never seemed to leave. When he noticed Sans watching, he flashed a reassuring grin.

The ride passed briskly, their driver pausing only once for a quick drink before Hotland. Before today, Sans had never ventured so far away from his snowy home. The farthest his parents had ever taken him was Waterfall. It was hard to appreciate the ruggedness of Hotland, the splendor of New Home, considering where they were headed.

At last, their carriage slowed and came to a stop. There were hundreds of carriages already present, crowding the dirt road, but a royal guard escort cleared a path for them right to the door. The chauffer once more opened the door for them. Sans, the closest, was let out first. The centaur then helped out both Sans’ mother and grandfather. The centaur’s flanks were white with foam from the hard ride.

Everyone was staring at them as they entered the funeral home. Sans’ shoulders hunched, and he took his mother’s hand to hold. The service was choked with monsters, from every corner of the Underground. Not many among them had truly known Times New Roman, but they attended out of respect.

Calibri walked Sans over to the gilded silver urn near the back of the room. He gripped her hand tightly as they stopped before it.

“Would you like to look?” She asked him, quietly.

Meek, he nodded.

With reverence, she lifted the urn. She removed the lid, and lowered it down so Sans could see what remained of his father.

Inside was dust, like fine particle sand, with a heavy smell of chalk.

Sans swallowed hard. His mother wiped at her tears, taking care to not let them drip into the dust.

After a moment, she set the dust back onto the table, replacing the lid. After the wake, they planned to take the urn back with them to Snowdin, to spread Roman’s dust on his precious things.

It didn’t take long for attendees to line up to pass on their condolences to the widow. The first, of course, was the monster who arranged and paid for the elaborate wake: King Asgore himself.

“Calibri.” The fur on King Asgore’s cheeks was damp, matted. He embraced Sans’ mother carefully, mindful of her swollen stomach. “Your husband’s sacrifice will not be in vain. Thanks to him, the third human soul is in our possession. He will forever be remembered as a savior of the Underground.”

“Thank you, King Asgore. Roman was happy to live in service of the crown.”

The hug broke. “I know it’ll be difficult, keeping your child’s magic level stable without your husband to assist. If there is anything you require, the Crown will provide it. No matter the expense.”

Calibri expressed her thanks, once more. King Asgore turned to Sans next. The aura of a boss monster was too overpowering and intimidating; Sans, shy, half-hid behind his grandpa’s leg.

Grandpa Semi elbowed him. “Show some respect, Sans—”

“It’s alright.” The King crouched, to appear less hulking. It didn’t quite work, for even at this angle he was still several feet taller and wider than Sans. “It is difficult to lose a parent at a young age. I myself lost my mother in my childhood. I remember all too well the pain of it.” King Asgore closed his eyes, a shadow of grief falling over his face. When he opened his eyes again, it smoothed away. “But you cannot let it control you. Honor your father, yes. But do not give into your despair. Stay determined.”

Grandpa Semi nudged him insistently, so Sans gave the King a jerky nod of understanding. King Asgore shook Granpa Semi’s hand firmly, and then with a slight bow left the family to themselves.

After the King came a stream of strangers. Some shook Sans’ hand, and offered words of encouragement. Some gave their condolences only to Calibri and Grandpa Semi, their gazes sliding over Sans completely, for what could a child understand of such loss?

Midway through the line, an old turtle stumped forward.

“Gerson,” Grandpa Semi clapped the turtle hard on the shell. “So you’re still kicking, you old bastard.”

“Language,” Calibri scolded, giving a significant glance to Sans.

“Sansy didn’t hear nothing,” Grandpa Semi pat his skull. “How can he. He’s got no ears!”

“I’ve got to say, I certainly don’t miss your bad jokes.” Gerson jibed. He sobered, turning to Calibri. “I’m deeply sorry about Roman. If I had left my Waterfall post to help intercept…”

Calibri dismissed the thought. “No one is to blame but the human. If you had gone to Roman’s aid, it might have killed you, too.”

“If you or the squirt ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

Calibri nodded, grateful.

Gerson lumbered off back into the crowd.

The hours stretched on. All the sympathetic monsters blurred into one unrecognizable mass, all invoking the same hollow condolences. Sans felt numb, detached. From his mother’s expression, she was feeling much the same.

~*~

Sans pulled out his step stool from the closet. He carried it over to the kitchen, and hopped up on it. On the counter was an array of pill bottles, as well as a time chart. Sans dutifully recorded the time before he took out the proper pills for his mother; two for nutrients for the baby, one for aches and pains, and another for magic resupply. It was usually the other parent’s job to supply the magic the mother and baby needed, but in this case, they had to make due by other means.

Sans took the pills, cradled carefully in his hands, to his mother’s room. Only two weeks from her expected due date, his mother had been given stern orders from the doctor to stay in bed. Grandpa Semi was at work, leaving Sans in charge of fetching whatever his mother needs.

“Thank you, Sansy.” She took the pills one by one, chasing them down with a glass of water. She pat the bed. “Come sit with me a moment.”

Obediently, he scrambled onto the bed. Calibri wrapped her arm around him, pulled him snugly close. The glow of her stomach was visible through her maternity gown.

“Can I…?” Sans’ hand hovered over her stomach.

She nodded, and he rested his hand gently on her belly. He sent a small pulse, questioning. It took a moment, but then a rush of excitement bounded over to him. Sans grinned widely. No matter how many times he had established soul connection with his new sibling, it never failed to leave him breathless and really, really happy.

“Baby loves you already.” Said Calibri, warmly. “You’re going to be the best older brother, right?”

Sans nodded fervently.

“I’ll play with them, and teach them magic, and, and read them stories!”

“You’re always been a good storyteller. Why don’t you tell me one now?”

Sans’ mouth dropped open, a tale already forming, when his mother tensed.

“Are you alright?”

Calibri tried to smile. “Just a minute, little bone.” She let out a pained moan, hands curling around her stomach.

Sans hovered, anxious. Should he run and find Grandpa Semi? Or was it better to stay here, in case she needed something?

“Um…” His voice was shaky.

“The baby’s not coming yet,” Calibri allayed his concerns. “Can you get Mommy another of the blue pills, please?”

“Y-Yes!”

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Sans rushed back to the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of magic-boosting pills. He twisted the cap—

In his nervousness, the bottle popped out of his hands. The pills scattered, most on the kitchen island, but some onto the floor.

“Bastards,” Sans swore under his breath. He immediately glanced around, guilty at uttering the dirty word. But no one was there to chastise him. He grabbed one of the pills off the counter, and brought it back to his mother.

She was still clutching her stomach, pained, when he returned. Calibri took the pill from him, and swallowed it dry. Bit by bit, the tension drained from her body.

“I’m alright, Sansy.” She assured him, and wiped sweat from her brow. She forced out a laugh. “Your sibling is going to be a strong one, with all the magic they’re pulling from me.”

“But you’re ok?”

Calibri smiles. “Yes, darling. Come back up here.”

Sans didn’t need to be told twice. He curled back up by his mother’s side. Calibri was warm, her aura soothing. She ran a gentle hand over his skull. She sung a soft tune that carried him off to sleep.

~*~

Sans was eating dinner with his grandfather when they heard his mother scream.

He looked up at his grandfather, frightened. “The baby’s not supposed to come out ‘till next week—”

“Well, looks like they decided they want out now.” Grandpa Semi pushed himself upright with a grunt. “Remember what we discussed. Fetch the towels and a tub of hot water.”

Sans hurried to retrieve the items, galvanized by further cries from his mother. He grabbed the towels from the linen closet—thick, fluffy—and followed Grandpa Semi into his mother’s bedroom.

“Stay calm, Cali,” Grandpa Semi instructed, as Sans entered the room. His mom was holding Grandpa Semi’s hand in a tight grip. The covers were all thrown off the side of the bed. Calibri’s gown had been removed, and a sheet was draped across her pelvis to preserve her modesty. The soul shone brightly within her ectoplasmic stomach. She strained, trying to push the soul out. It glowed brighter still, but didn’t move.

“Sans.” He jolted at Grandpa Semi’s sudden call. Realized he’d just been standing there, watching.

Sans set the towels within his grandfather’s reach, and left the room to fetch the rest of the supplies. He grabbed the heavy wooden pail, left by the front door, and ran outside. The lampposts were still lit, their flickering light guiding Sans to the well at the border of Snowdin and Waterfall. The townsfolk had tried to build a well in the center of town, long ago, but the frostbitten ground was too unyielding to chip through.

Panting, Sans set his bucket down beneath the faucet. Once his soulbeat slowed, he grabbed the crank on the pump and started moving it, up and down. It was slow going at first, the pump’s joints locked with the cold, stiff and reluctant. But he kept at it, and soon enough the water began to pour.

Once the bucket was filled, Sans abandoned the pump to heft it up by its handle. He grimaced at the weight of the water, but endured it. He could do this. For his mother, for his sibling.

They’d had everything planned out. Starting next week, the midwife was going to stay at their home around the clock, ready to aid Calibri at any time. She would have brought supplies, would have been prepared for anything. They hadn’t thought it’d happen so soon, so suddenly. Even if they called for the midwife now, it wouldn’t be any good; she was all the way in New Home. They have to do this alone.

Sans tried to hurry, but moving too fast sloshed water from the bucket. At an awkward gait, he hobbled his way home.

In his haste, he’d left the front door ajar; the wind blew it wide open. He tottered inside, and brought the bucket over to the fire. The remains of Sans and Grandpa Semi’s dinner sizzled at the bottom of a pan over the fire, nearly black. After setting that pan aside, he put a big cooking pot in its place. He transferred as much of the water that could fit. He added more sticks and brush to the fire, urging it to be bigger, hotter.

He couldn’t hear his mother anymore. Was that good? Bad?

Leaving the water to heat, Sans returned to his mother’s room. As he got closer, he could hear her again; crying, breathing hard.

Sans inched open the door, and peered inside. The soul had emerged from its ectoplasmic womb in his absence. It hovered above Calibri, a shining beacon. Strands of magic connected the soul still to its mother. The magic would help the child’s body form.

Calibri noticed Sans peeking in.

“Hi, little bone.” She said, voice weak.

Grandpa Semi turned. “You’ve gotten the water?”

“I-It’s warming now.”

“Good lad.”

Sans approached the bed, watching the strings of magic connecting his mother and his sibling pulse with surges of energy. “Is there anything else I should do?”

Grandpa Semi shakes his head. “At this point there’s little we can do but wait for the souling to form.” That could take at least an hour, Sans had been told.

Deeming the situation ok, Sans went to check on the pot of water. Warm, but not boiling yet. Sans dragged the basin over so it was ready, and waited watching the water until it bubbled.

After putting on mitts to combat the pot’s heat, he poured the water into the basin, taking care not to let any spill. When the basin was near-full, he set the pot aside. There was still extra water remaining in the pot, in case they needed it later.

Sans grabbed the basin and hefted it up, carrying it down the hall to his mother’s room. Once inside, his grandfather directed him to set it to the side for now.

Sans loitered by the edge of the bed. There was nothing for him to do now, but he felt anxious and awful, just standing here watching his mother suffer through this.

“Sans, wait outside.” Grandpa Semi directed him.

“No, I want to stay.”

His grandfather sighed. “Sans, please don’t—”

Calibri screamed out as there was a sudden crack.

Sans’ gaze jerked up. The soul was shifting, breaking, no—

There were two of them now. Separated. Two souls, a duller white than the one had been, but still vibrant enough to be healthy.

“Twins,” Grandpa Semi breathed, tears of joy in his eyes. “Stars above. You have twins.”

Calibri stared up at the twin souls with love in her eyelights. “They’re beautiful.”

Calibri’s complexion drained suddenly, from glowing to ashen. She started to sag on the bed, eyelights hazing. “Oh…”

“Stay sharp, Cali.” Grandpa Semi’s palms were alight with magic. “The hard part’s over. You’re doing great. Just—keep going.”

“Mom!” Sans grabbed her spare hand. He didn’t know how to transfer magic, but he was sure he could figure it out—

“Sans.” Grandpa Semi’s reprimand was sibilant. “You are too young to share your magic. The expenditure could kill you.”

“But…” Sans looked between them, helpless.

“It’s fine…” His mother murmured. She gave his hand a feeble squeeze before letting go. “Sansy, it’ll all be okay.”

Magic clumped around the souls, bigger and bigger. A balled mass at first, the magic started to mold into shapes. Small torsos, limbs, heads. The magic thickened, firmed up to form two tiny skeletons, curled tight in the fetal position. As one, the twins took their first breath, rib cages moving in synch.

One twin opened his eye sockets. They were dark—did baby skeletons not have lights? They started to uncurl.

“I need to separate them now.” Grandpa Semi stood, letting go of Calibri’s hand. He coughed, burying his mouth in a handkerchief, and muttered curses until the fit subsided.

“No,” Calibri whimpered, the sound piercing Sans to his core. “My babies—”

“Hush, Cali.” Grandpa Semi stuffed his handkerchief away. One hand cradled the baby that had started to move. The other grasped the magic tether. “Count to three for me.”

Calibri sucked in a shallow breath. “One, two—”

There was a spark of energy from Grandpa Semi’s hand, and the cord dissipated. The baby screamed, and Calibri howled with them. Grandpa Semi quickly bundled the child in one of the towels, and handed them off to Sans.

“One more, just one more,” Grandpa Semi yelled to be heard. The second twin stirred at all the noise, disproving Sans’ theory with their brightly glowing eye lights.

Grandpa Semi repeated the procedure with the second twin, and pushed them into Sans’ arms too. The babies squirmed with discomfort.

Calibri let out one last moan and slumped over. Her ectoplasmic stomach seemed to melt off her, the magic pooling across the sheets, running like blood.

“Take them out of here.” Grandpa Semi herded him to the door. The babies wrested their tiny hands free of the towels to entwine their fingers.

Sans twisted his neck, tried to see his mother on the bed, but Grandpa Semi blocked his view.

“But Mom is—”

“I’ll handle it,” His grandfather said, though Sans could hear the tremor in his voice.

Then the door was shut firmly in Sans’ face.

The twins hadn’t stopped crying since they came out. Sans shushed them, and rocked them in his arms to quiet them. He pressed the side of his skull to the door. Ever so faintly, he could make out Grandpa’s voice.

“...have to hang in there, Cali. Don’t you want to meet them?”

One of the babies—the one with glowing eyelights—started flailing in Sans’ grip.

“Stop it!” Sans hissed. “Don’t—”

The child nearly wriggled free of his hold, forcing Sans to clutch him tighter. He grimaced as sticky magic residue from the infant’s bones smeared across the front of his shirt.

Hefting the babies in his arms, Sans made his way down the hall to the kitchen and living room area. His new siblings were fairly light, but their constant writhing made the short trip a battle.

Finally, they arrived at the kitchen. The pot set aside earlier still had some water left in it. Sans laid the twins down onto the floor. They didn’t try to move, content to lay there beside each other, hands still clasped. Mercifully, their crying petered out.

Sans stuck his hand into the water; it was lukewarm. Sans let slip a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to risk scalding their sensitive new bones. He transferred the water to the wash basin he used for his own baths, and added some bubbly soap.

As the soap mixed in the water, Sans turned a critical eye to his new brothers. Aside from the lack of eyelights on one of them, the twins were identical in every regard, down to their hands with the curiously-shaped holes in them. No Eyelights seemed slightly less fussy, so Sans decided to start with them. But their tiny hands were still so tightly clasped together.

“Alright, this’ll only take a minute,” Sans kept his voice gentle and assuring as he reached towards their joined hands. But as soon as he tried to pry them apart, the twins broke out into earsplitting wails of dismay. Big, fat tears slid down their faces as they cried their little souls out.

“Okay, jeez! I get it!” Sans yelled to be heard over them, but his raised voice only seemed to make them cry harder.

Sans peeled them out of their towels, and carefully set them both into the wash basin. The tepid water calmed them somewhat.

Sans grabbed a small hand towel from a nearby drawer, and used it to scrub away the residue before it could set. The twins were going to be nice and clean when he handed them back over to his mother.

He rubbed the towel over No Eyelights. Oh, right. He didn’t have to guess or invent names for them—they’re family. Sans checked them.

PAPYRUS - ATK 0 DF 1

His stats worried Sans for a split second before he realized—duh. Papyrus was a baby.

Sans checked the other infant next.

WINGDINGS GASTER - ATK 0 DF 1

The identical stats weren’t surprising at all. Wingdings’ name, however, was pretty unusual. His mother and Grandpa Semi had mentioned different uncles and friends named Sans and Papyrus, but he’d never heard of the name Wingdings before.

After he finished cleaning off Papyrus, he moved to Wingdings. The twins were wilting in the basin, growing sleepy. Sans had to prop Wingdings up against the side of the basin so he didn’t list over as Sans cleaned him.

In a matter of minutes, Wingdings and Papyrus were both clean, and smelling faintly of lavender. Sans felt a puff of pride. His mom had told him again and again that little siblings would be a lot of work. Sans thought it wasn’t so bad.

The front sides of their towels were a little sticky with magic, so Sans flipped them over to the clean sides. He bundled Papyrus and Wingdings back in the towels, hefted them in his arms, and carried them back to the hallway.

When he reached his mother’s door, he kicked at it.

“Grandpa Semi?” Sans called, as loud as he dared with the sleeping twins in his arms. “Grandpa?”

The door didn’t open.

Sans spied the telltale green glow of healing magic under the door, and Grandpa Semi didn’t respond.

Sans slid down into a sitting position, so his back leaned against the wall facing the door. Stuck waiting, Sans looked down at his sleeping brothers. The faint glow of magic illuminated their features. Papyrus and Wingdings would look a lot like their mom, he could tell already by the shapes of their skulls. They were pudgy with youth, but Sans knew they’d grow up to have her same angular skull structure.

Sans huffed a faint, bitter laugh. Unlike him. He was more big-boned, like Dad had been.

Sans settled Papyrus and Wingdings in his lap as his eye sockets grew heavy.

He drowsed lightly as he waited, but perked up again after a few hours, as the green light beneath the door faded.

There was a faint smell of—chalk? Like someone had banged two erasers and clouded the room with chalk dust.

Sans was roused fully as the doorknob turned, and Grandpa Semi joined him in the hallway. Sans stood, holding Wingdings and Papyrus in his arms again.

“...Grandpa?” Sans tried, after his grandfather stared blankly into space for a moment.

Grandpa Semi’s gaze jerked to look down at him.

“Oh, Sans.” He said, as if he hadn’t realized Sans was there. Grandpa Semi wiped the sheen of sweat from his skull before he took Papyrus and Wingdings from him. “You did very well taking care of them.”

“What about Mom?” Sans demanded, a touch too loud; Papyrus began to stir.

Grandpa Semi hesitated a second too long. Sans’ soul dropped in his chest. He darted around his grandfather, and threw open the door.

“Sans!” Grandpa Semi, encumbered by the twins, couldn’t stop him from running in.

His mother was...his mother...