#papyrus as ruby because he is also Like That but in a better tone and this would also explain it

[lovelesslittleloser]

Imagine yet another Undertale AU, but the thing that’s different is that it’s just the plot of Oshi No Ko.

If you know you know

[faerytale-au]

A Darkness Lingers Pt.2

Word Count: 6,750 Fourth Prompt Place: During and After “Promises and Tokens” Rating: M TW: Mentions of Past Abuse Cross Posted Here Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Instead of crying or letting the hurt get to her she chose to sit on the couch, and before she knew it she was being called. “FRISK?” 

She jerked in place, snapping from the daze she’d been unknowingly aiming at the wall. Forcing a smile she glanced up at Papyrus, a curious tilt of her head somehow only deepening the uncharacteristic frown on his face.

“YOUR MAGIC IS ALL OVER THE PLACE, IS SOMETHING WRONG?” Instead of answering she flicked her eyes over to the front door. Papyrus followed the look before letting out a deep sigh.

Papyrus smiled as he took a seat beside her. “IF YOU NEED TO TALK YOU KNOW I AM A VERY DILIGENT LISTENER MY DEAR SISTER.” 

Like he wanted the gentle use of her new title made her smile more genuine. He could see a fragment of the tension ease from her shoulders as she looked down at the ruby ring on her hand, a concentrated furrow of her brows making his smile nearly falter.

“Were you…” She paused thoughtfully. “Do you miss your dad?” 

Papyrus didn’t move, didn’t so much as breathe as he looked at her. After a moment his hands, resting unassuming on his knees, curled into tight fists even as the rest of him remained loose and relaxed in appearance.

His tone fought to keep it’s cheerful inflection. “SOMETIMES!” 

And then it was hard to keep his voice steady. “Other times…”

Frisk watched as Papyrus glanced away from her, his teeth pressing together firmly as his sockets dipped with a softness she couldn’t decide on being sadness or affection. When he spoke he still kept his gaze averted, locked on a bit of peeling wallpaper he hadn’t noticed before.

Redecorating was definitely on the agenda.

“Truth Be Told...I Don’t Really Remember My Father Too Well. If There’s Anyone Who I’d Worry About Missing Him, It’d Be Sans.” 

Frisk didn’t comment, and Papyrus looked back over with a timid smile. “They Were Really Close. Well Maybe Close Isn’t Right...They Both Had A Habit Of Acting Close But Being Distant. Only When They Told Me Stories Of Mom Did They Seem...Not Far Apart.” 

“Sans hasn’t ever mentioned your mother.” Frisk frowned curiously. She was sure he hadn’t, trying to think over their many conversations she couldn’t even recall a moment where he might’ve hinted at her.

Papyrus chuckled so quietly she could’ve almost mistaken the laughter for Sans’s. “I’m Not Surprised. Her Passing Was Always A Sensitive Subject.” 

Frisk hesitated but decided to risk asking. “What happened?” 

Like a switch had been flipped a haunted look flew over the Seelie’s expression, Papyrus’s sockets dulling and turning a shade darker than she knew they could ever go. He shut them and in a very high falsetto he forced his words out.

“I Killed Her.” 

Frisk thought her heart stopped.

“Her Soul Shattered While Giving Life To Me.” All she could do was stare at the floor. Frisk couldn’t think of what to say, what reassurances to give. How do you comfort someone when you hadn’t the first clue as to how they were feeling?

“I’m sorry you lost her like that…but it wasn’t your fault at all Papyrus.” 

“HMM MY BROTHER OFTEN TELLS ME THE SAME THING. AND WHILE IT MAY BE TRUE...That Doesn’t Change My Personal Feelings On The Matter. IT’S JUST SOMETHING I’VE LEARNED TO DEAL WITH.” Frisk had to blink back the tears that wanted to fall from her eyes. Papyrus always seemed so cheerful and upbeat, she never would have guessed he held such pain close to his heart. 

“Why do you think that?” 

Here Papyrus hesitated. “Because...I’m Certain If She Hadn’t Died Our Father Would’ve Never Went Down The Path He Did…Our Lives Would Be Very Different.” 

He sounded oddly like her; if she had tried harder to be good maybe dad would have loved her, if she had been a little more quiet, more invisible, maybe her mother would have cared. Maybe Frisk’s life could have been different from what it was now. They were thoughts she used to have constantly and that sometimes still plagued her at night.

Frisk didn’t like hearing something so similar coming from Papyrus.

She didn’t know what to say. Why did she never know what to say?

“Would you be happy...having your father back?”

Papyrus looked thoughtful, his expression scrunched in concentration as he thought on Frisk’s question with the most honesty he could give. He eventually shook his head and let out a huff of air.

“I’M NOT SURE. BUT I THINK SANS WOULD. STUBBORN TO ADMIT IT HE MAY BE. BUT THE PAST IS THE PAST THERE’S NO CHANGING THAT, IT’S SOMETHING WE HAVE TO ACCEPT.”

And little did he know Papyrus had just made a decision for her. Maybe...she could repay them both by offering what she had never had herself back in her world.

“Thank you Papyrus. Talking helped.” They both looked at each other in a soft and comfortable silence, his sockets taking on a less darkened hue as he unclenched his fists. 

He pulled her into an unexpected hug. “ANYTIME!” 

Frisk stiffened on instinct, her expression becoming awash with shock before she slowly smiled and hugged him back. Papyrus was the greatest Seelie she knew next to her husband, and he deserved everything, they both did.

~~

Sans barely saw the grove in front of him from the ring of mushrooms; his mind was wandering and his sockets were bottomless pits. He hadn’t wanted to leave Frisk the way he had, he already felt so guilty over it, but he...couldn’t take another second talking about his old man.

It was a given he would’ve had to tell Frisk eventually. But he had wanted to do it on his own time and terms, he hadn’t wanted the reason to be because the Unseelie was plotting something. 

Sans had wanted to live with Frisk in ignorance for just a bit longer.

Now all he could think about was not only how to explain his other job to his wife, but what preparations he’d have to take to prevent whatever drawback Gaster’s sudden activity would cause.

He was silently cursing himself, he was usually better prepared than this.

“Your foolish fancies will get you into trouble one day.”

The last time he’d seen Gaster in person... 

How long had it been exactly? Sans couldn’t remember. He hadn’t tried too, in fact he’d gone out of his way not to think about him. But now alone and sitting with nothing to distract him his thoughts took over...the memories he’d long repressed surfaced.

He could remember vividly how angry and hurt his father had been, the way he had sounded when he’d spoken in a voice not entirely his own to condemn Gaster for what he knew was the greater good, and how broken that had made both him and his still very young and impressionable brother.

Papyrus had suffered from nightmares for years after witnessing the fight that had broken out, Sans still suffered from them on occasion with flashbacks to boot, but he handled them better now and as far as he knew Papyrus didn’t even have them anymore.

But that didn’t mean the wounds were no longer there.

Sans shut his sockets, and all he could see was how Gaster’s gaze had turned vicious and loathing when Sans had told him he was selfish. Gaster’s shock when he’d accused his old man of loving only himself without regard to his family and those around him.

Gaster had been many things...always cold, standoffish, hard to relate too. But even then Sans had known in his youth, his father had been different deep down. He had been kind, patient, and always full of a tame but strong energy that he had little doubt wasn’t where Papyrus got his own wild flame from.

Papyrus ironically took after the old bones, both of them had difficulties socially, both of them had more to them than others typically saw or bothered to look for. Sans was sure if Gaster had been there for all the years he missed, he would’ve likely loosened up and been softer, Papyrus too would have learned more decorum.

It wasn’t hard to imagine.

At least with how Gaster had been before...

There wasn’t a night where Sans hadn’t questioned if he’d done the right thing. A day where he wondered where everything had gone wrong. And Frisk had reminded him of that so painfully he had almost snapped.

He couldn’t...handle admitting his doubts.

Gaster had been his first Unseelie case, and he could still remember being horrified as his father had morphed from the corruption right in front of him and Papyrus both. His little brother in tears as Gaster’s arms had melted and evaporated away leaving behind nothing but floating hands and how his face had grotesquely cracked in a bone rattling snarl.

His father hadn’t even looked like himself anymore.

It had been too much for such a young child to see, it had been to much for himself, and it had been traumatizing in how it had made Sans wonder if he’d look like that if he ever let his own darkness take over. If Papyrus…

Sans had hated Gaster in that moment.

It had killed a part of Sans when he’d flung him through the Unseelie gate; his soul threatening to fracture under the sorrow he’d felt at the shock and surprise in his father’s gaze right before the doors had slammed shut behind him, it had also been relieving.

But Gaster had stopped caring, had stopped being the Seelie he and Paps had once so admired. He’d been a fae dedicated to family, a Seelie sought after not only for his dedicated work ethic but also for his wit when it came to negotiating and deal making.

Gaster had been the very image of their society, no less than the Queen herself.

So his darkness as it had consumed him had been not only a blow to Sans and his sibling but to their world as a whole. There wasn’t a soul alive that didn’t know about the Seelie’s fall from grace, that didn’t get told of Gaster not as someone to idolize but as a cautionary tale.

The day he’d emerged from his lab donning that haunting eye piece, his eyelight wide and pulsing with a silent victory Sans had felt sick, could tell something was off. He’d seemed so mad, entirely out of his skull with knowledge and insidious intent that had made it hard for Sans to even breathe.

Could he have done something then?

If he had tried, could he have kept Gaster on the right path?

But more than anything Sans now silently wondered...why after all this time? Why appear now and go after Frisk? Gaster never pursued anything unless it had been to his benefit or to that of his ambition.

A protective anger flared in Sans’s soul.

Was it revenge? A way to escape? As much as Sans tried he couldn’t think of a valid reason or guess the intent behind his father’s sudden interest. If he didn’t already know the drawback to going into the Unseelie realm Sans would’ve been there already confronting the other.

He refused to let Gaster ruin anything else with his greed.

A small stinging sensation tugged at Sans’s chest, pulling him from his thoughts as his eyelights came back with a harsh flare. 

He clutched at his chest with a frown before pulling back his sleeve to stare down at his wedding bracelet. The moonstones along the back of it were lit up a furious red, oscillating between different shades and tones, but all meaning the same thing.

An image, sheer and thin like looking through lace flashed in his mind.

Golden doors, a hesitant step...

Frisk was before one of the gates...an Unseelie gate.

Sans felt his soul quiver, the magic between his joints tightening in panic as sweat coated his skull. She was trying to not only leave the realm but to open a gate to the corrupted fae? A possibility so logical and most likely true made him sick.

She had said she wanted to help Gaster.

Had he messed up? 

Again?

Sans never should’ve been harsh to her that morning, he had never acted that way with her before, of course he would’ve upset her. Of course she’d rebel against him when he was so out of character with her. 

Panic, thick and unrelentingly harsh overcame him.

He was back through the gate and rushing to shortcut in a single breath as guilt and worry shot a bolt of ice down his spine. 

He prayed he wasn’t too late.

~~

Frisk was uncertain as she stood at the abandoned post, her mouth dry and chest heaving with thick breaths. She already knew Gaster was standing on the other side, waiting. His presence she could feel like a weight on her chest.

He’d known she’d show hadn’t he?

She swallowed thickly, she didn’t know if she could even open the gate, but she was more than sure if she did not only would Sans know, but every Seelie in the realm would too. 

A glance up at the thick bells hanging ominously above her made her heart give a painful skip in her chest. There were so many it felt like, but in reality only six stood guard, three to either side of the arch overhanging the entrance. All wide enough that Frisk imagined if one were to fall it could encompass a whole village in it’s depths.

Her eyes drifted down to a pair of hand prints embedded within the golden doors, one on each side of the doors seam. The tiny indentations were like specks to it’s immense stature but Frisk could feel the powerful magic swirling out from them like a hot breeze, coiling and calling with a phantom caress.

She shut her eyes as she tried to get her breathing under control.

“Second thoughts?” Frisk’s eyes snapped open and she frowned as she looked down at her hands, wispy sparks of muted fire tracing along her palms and fingers, as if her magic was trying to soothe her.

“I...need your word.”

Gaster was silent, but soon his voice was echoing in her mind again. “Has my son not taught you the dangers of an Unseelie deal?”

Frisk clenched her hands and let them fall to her sides as she stared ahead, her eyes boring into the door as if she could see Gaster just behind it smirking at her. But she refused to let his words antagonize her. 

This was a front for him, she felt it in her soul, she’d seen there was more to him.

“He has, but I’m willing to bet you would never truly harm those you call family.” She couldn’t see him, but the sudden thickening of the air around her told of his annoyance...and his power. If he could cause such such a shift locked in another realm there was no doubt he could cause unfathomable damage when present. She wanted to believe in him, truly she did, but she wasn’t naive enough to overlook his taint.

“...What do you ask of me?”

“I know better than that Gaster, I know how deals work, your word or I walk away.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

“...Place one hand to the door…” Nervousness made a knot form in Frisk’s stomach but she managed to take another step forward, careful to avoid touching the spot her hand was to rest when opening the gate she pressed her palm flat and firmly to the smooth surface. 

Warmth and chill mixed, curling like ghostly tendrils through the thick door to wrap her fingers and wrist. It stung, burned her flesh enough that she hissed painfully. It had never felt like this when she’d made a deal before; like her hand was slowly blistered and then quickly dunked into freezing water.

His magic was this potent?

“For my freedom, voice your request.”

Her heart hammering Frisk spoke slowly, “You are not to bring harm or death to a single soul in this realm.” 

The air became suffocating, laced with bitterness and fury so engulfing Frisk covered her mouth and nose to keep from choking on the suddenly foul air. The magic binding her hand nearly had her knees give out with how intensely it constricted around her. 

She’d angered him, but just as quickly as that anger had come it just as quickly soothed and withdrew. The overpowering feeling in her arm was still there but had gone down to a dulled throb.

“...Is that all you demand?” The curious tone in his voice had her shoulders hunching suspiciously. 

She took a second to think over her words and was sure there were no loopholes or room for him to betray their deal, but she was still learning. Hesitantly she chose to say something else instead of trying to add to her conditions, something told her she needed to.

“That’s all I ask of you...as family.”

For a moment it felt as if Gaster had softened, something warm and yet sad filling the bond being manifested between them. If she could see him, she’d have seen how haunted he looked, how empty and bitter he was.

Gaster was to be denied even his vengeance.

...For family…

How manipulative, and thoughtful.

“I see now just how perfect for my son you are.” 

Frisk wasn’t given the chance to respond as an acidic burn of pain shot up her arm and straight into her chest, sending her vision tunneling as her soul was constricted and squeezed in the onslaught of a corrupted deal struck.

Gaster felt her try to topple but his magic still scorching itself in an unseen contract kept her up and firmly on her feet. He couldn’t help the smirk on his face. The repercussions and consequences from what she’d just done caused her to suffer, which pleased the darkness in his soul.

It was just punishment for the rules she’d just imposed on him.

When he could sense the tie on her being firmly in place he released her.

Frisk crumpled, fell painfully to her knees, and tried to keep her balance by resting her hands and forehead against the doors where she panted as if she’d just ran a marathon. In all her years she’d never felt something so nasty and horrible as what had just happened.

It was almost as if she’d dirtied herself…

“Quickly now, I highly doubt my eldest didn’t feel the violation to your soul.” 

Violation?

She must’ve said it out loud because Gaster answered, “An unfortunate side effect. I can explain more after you hold up your end to our agreement.” 

Swallowing down what felt like cotton Frisk pushed shakily to her feet and narrowed her eyes at the door’s seal. Taking another deep breath she moved her hands into the imprinted grooves and let out a gasp as her palms settled almost perfectly into them. 

A cool breeze, comforting and warm wrapped around her as her magic flared to engulf her hands and rapidly climb her body. Flames that didn’t burn or singe flowed around her and flared into a fiery typhoon, whipping her clothing and hair as if she was caught in a hurricane.

“That’s it! Focus Frisk.” Gaster’s encouraging call echoed.

She squeezed her eyes shut as they began to burn, tears running from their corners only to be lifted into the air in a bizarre loss of gravity. The air distorted and bent, a heatwave or time magic rapidly grew the grass at her feet and wilted it before reverting it rapidly to a youthful green.

She--she didn’t know if she go on--the doors gave but it felt like her energy was a battery, fluctuating between full and powerful to weak and drained--

No! 

She...she could do this!

Frisk could set Gaster free; she could give Papyrus and Sans their father back. She could prove she was more than just Sans’s wife and a human, she was capable of so much more than sitting around day in and out with nothing but the worry and fear of being a burden that being a mage brought.

She could prove she was more than anyone had ever given her credit for.

Frisk cried so loudly her voice rose above the ringing the bells began to give as she poured all her frustration and deep buried regret into pushing the door’s apart. Foul wind and diseased air bathed her in cascading flows of evil intent that made her almost collapse with nausea.

Another inch--

And she fell, her magic going out as the doors swung wide enough Gaster reached forward and caught her easily. Moving quickly he passed the entry way and glared back at the feral Unseelie that had been alerted, their charging forms barely visible before Gaster coalesced his magic and slammed the doors back shut with a resounding crack of thunder.

Frisk was gasping and barely coherent as Gaster knelt with her and pressed his forehead to her own. She shivered as a feeling pushed in and started to replenish her but nearly made her gag at the bile it raised in the back of her throat.

Despite how gross it felt her breathing evened out, and thankfully Gaster pulled back before standing fully again. His hold on her only released once he was sure she could stand without shaking. It took her a second to get her thoughts straight but once they were she looked up at him cautiously.

“Thank you.” He hummed before turning.

Frisk froze.

Sans was still and at a distance but his whole frame tensed the moment his eyelights locked with Gaster. She watched as his sockets narrowed in disbelief and his grin trembled at the edges.

Gaster looked amused.

Her heart dropped. 

Frisk felt the air take on a sudden chill, ice spiraling out from the bottoms of Sans’s feet to coat the ground as the wind picked up and billowed his cloak and clothing. Her husband’s smile, so often soft and adoring, suddenly widened and...felt as if it went empty of all feeling.

A bolt raced down her spine as his eyelights snuffed out, the left socket flaring bright like a raging inferno lit up with yellow and blue light coalescing violently in hostile intent. She was shocked as Sans spoke with the voice that she heard in her dream.

“Y O U  D O N ‘ T  B E L O N G  H E R E.” 

Gaster’s smirk dropped. 

“Sans wait please!” Frisk tried but her plea died in her throat as he glanced over at her, the weight of the power she could feel in his gaze suffocating and stalling her thoughts. 

It felt like he was seeing right through her.

Frisk locked in place, her and Sans both staring at each other with vastly different expressions and intent. There was apprehension and...she didn’t have a name for the way his face shone with false warmth in his smile but yet felt so condemning.

She didn’t know rather to be afraid...or worried.

Gaster took the opportunity to slip an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to his side, the abrupt motion jarring her enough into breaking eye contact as she looked up at Gaster.

It seemed to be enough to affect Sans.

Instantly his eyelight went out and he looked absolutely petrified as the whirling wind of his magic died. The sight of his wife in his deranged father’s arms sent such a painful spike through his soul that he had to fight not to let the magic in his joints constrict.

“don’t you dare--” Gaster gave a dismissive snort.

“So, it seems the risk to her well-being is what can temper you, duly noted.” Frisk tensed but the reassuring rub of his thumb into her shoulder relaxed her. The gesture was unexpected and it confused her how such warmth could come from him while he still glared Sans down, bitterness and cold detachment livid in his one good socket.

Sans glanced over at her and then back to Gaster, like hell he’d risk Frisk’s life for his job let alone his anger. 

His demeanor became forced as he hitched his grin higher in one corner and held his hands up in a shrug. “no need to get so handsy, why don’t we go ahead and sit down for a talk. seelie were we can compromise?” 

Frisk perked up hopefully but Gaster wasn’t fooled by the sudden attitude change. He could see his son’s tell with the magical sweat drop that subtly slid down the side of his skull. 

Unlike Papyrus, Sans wasn’t good under pressure, it’s why he so often relied on his magical abilities when push came to shove in high tension situations.

An unfortunate flaw in his eldest.

“Your acting is about as poor as your puns, lacking in dedication and effort,” Sans’s expression darkened. “Rather disappointing given our race. But not nearly as disappointing as the thought you’d honestly believe me capable of intentionally hurting my daughter-in-law.” 

It took Sans a moment to register Gaster’s words and slowly his body unwound as he blinked in confusion. Of course he thought that, if he could betray both him and Papyrus when they were younger, what was stopping him from hurting Frisk who he didn’t even know?

Sans wasn’t stupid.

Frisk took a deep breath and her voice was gentle.

“I’m sorry I hurt you by bringing Gaster here.” Sans’s skull whipped in her direction and he looked as if she’d slapped him but she continued, her eyes bright with her determination that it kept him rooted to the spot in which he stood. 

“He just...misses you and Papyrus, his home. Don’t you miss him too?” 

Slowly Sans’s eyelights panned over to his old man’s face, and the slight twitch of his frown, the way he had a hand absently adjust his monocle was telling. If only Sans couldn’t see the grudge his father still carried on his soul he might have relented.

But Gaster’s sins were countless.

He looked back over to Frisk, his kindhearted and stubborn wife, with a gaze soft but somber. It was too late for what she was trying to accomplish. Gaster was banished, an Unseelie who refused to give up the very conviction that corrupted him. 

A Fae that had sacrificed everything that should have been precious.

“frisk--you can’t save him.” 

She looked ready to defy him but he cut her off. “surely even he’s told you that.” He shot Gaster a glare. “my old man has always made it a point to make sure everyone knows reality from fiction.”

Gaster...looked away as his hand tightened on Frisk’s shoulder only the slightest bit. 

If he hadn’t been holding her she would have thought he was ignoring the way Sans was speaking about him, indifferent to how hurt and angry his son sounded. And though she could tell he was becoming more angry himself, more tempted to lash out still he held to his word and didn’t. 

“my old man died years ago frisk.” She could sense the ache, but it sounded so final.

Frisk looked down at her feet as she collected her thoughts before facing her husband again. Sans’s sockets were locked on Gaster but his attention was so clearly on where she was held it was impossible to miss the nervousness with which he hid his hands in his cloak. 

Seeing how distressed he was it felt as if she’d wronged him, and doubt began to settle in her chest. Was she really doing the right thing? Couldn’t everyone be saved? She didn’t know what to think.

Frisk felt herself fade out, the world turning grey and loud. Shadows both sharp and blurred ran across her vision as hopelessness and desperation struggled with the fire of her hope and fought to quench her resolve. 

She felt her body vanish.

Sans almost flinched at the cold and detached look that took over her face, it was horrifying to him how washed out her skin turned with her eyes going so dull it felt as if her soul had fled. It hit him in the most painful way to watch her wilt like a doll whose strings had been cut, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as her words.

“You saved me…” She muttered through numb lips.

And that made him question...if he actually had.

Gaster looked down at her, a mix of intrigue and surprise quirking one of his bony brows as he took in her state. It twisted Sans’s magic with disgust as he recognized the look in his father’s sockets.

no, don’t look at her with curiosity, like something to dissect, this isn’t--this wasn’t okay--

“sweetheart, that’s not the same thing, not by a long shot.” His words were hushed, gentle as if she might shatter. He wasn’t even aware that he’d gotten closer until Gaster held a hand out between them and nearly touched him. 

Sans fought not to instinctually lash out with magic and shot Gaster a deadly look, but it went ignored as his father fully turned and adjusted Frisk to face him at arm’s length. 

The longer Frisk stared at nothing and Gaster examined her the more Sans felt his anxiety grow, the more he tried to come up with a way to separate them without somehow accidentally harming her.

Eventually, “Ah, you’re traumatized. Classic dissociation associated with PTSD.”

Then Gaster did something Sans hadn’t witnessed since he was a child.

The former scientist got down on his <em>knees</em> and kept his gaze intentful and measuring as he spoke with the same authoritative voice he’d often used when he’d had to calm Sans down in his worst moments.

“Memories and feelings are just the mind’s way of storing information. None of that applies to the here and now, you don’t need to remember Frisk. Focus.” 

”Family is everything Sans, greater than even yourself, never forget that.”

Sans felt his soul give a violent thrum and he had to do everything he could not to take his sockets off of Frisk. He hadn’t thought back on his father’s encouraging words in years. But now it was all he could think about as Gaster worked to bring his wife out of her stupor. 

The doubt he’d carried all this time in the back of his skull came to the forefront.

Had Gaster...wavered in his depraved dedication? Was he changing? Had he...ever changed really? It was so hard to believe anything else as Frisk’s eyes slowly began to brighten, and her lashes fluttered away her daze.

Sans felt his stance on his father give.

Frisk sucked in a breath as her body lit up with warmth and her mind slowly cleared. She was confused to see Gaster kneeling in front of her but that quickly turned into mild embarrassment as he smirked at her. 

“Good.”

Soon as she was coherent Sans moved to hold her, but was met with Gaster stepping forward and blocking the way. His guard went up, and the softness Sans had felt bloom in his chest hardened upon seeing his Father’s malicious smile.

Frisk stiffened at the sudden mood shift. “Gaster, we had a deal!” 

“And we still do my dear.” He chuckled. “Nowhere did you state I couldn’t fight him.”

Frisk reached forward, her hands grasping and burying within the smoke that composed Gaster’s form as she tried her best to gain his full attention, anything to buy her precious seconds to try and convince him not to go through with the sudden whim.

Gaster however simply peered over his shoulder at her, “That’s enough of that, stop acting so childish.” and spawned a hand into being. 

“frisk!” Sans panicked and tried vainly to teleport to her but found himself frozen in place, a dark and corrupted purple surrounding and suffocating his soul. Gaster looked back towards his son with a shrug as he snapped his fingers.

Frisk’s eyes went wide as dark light erupted from the ground around her, exploding upward and encasing her in a dome of pure blackness. Her cry went muffled and silent as it formed a cocoon around her, flipping and deafening her senses. 

Sans began to sweat as he visibly struggled to break free, “F R I S K!” 

His old man had gotten stronger through the years.

Gaster took a step forward, the last five of his hands appearing and enlarging as he prepared for combat. Sans was gasping, his eyelight bright and flaring with rage. His father was unperturbed and merely looked at him boredly.

“Is that all you plan to do? Act dramatic for your human? Come, let’s see what the years have taught you my boy. Best hurry.” He gave a snide smile. “Dear Frisk has, at best fifthteen minutes of air.”

Sans’s smile went so wide it threatened to crack his skull.

He should’ve known better. He should’ve acted as soon as he’d seen Gaster had returned.

Instead Sans had let nostalgia and his worry for Frisk make him weak.

The air turned chill, frost and snow whipping into a flurry around him as he glared his father down with tears in his sockets...as his second eyelight lit up with equal power to the first. 

Gaster smirked as he easily dodged the first barrage of bones, his body morphing and shifting to allow the ring of projectiles through his form without a single scratch. He chuckled as Sans took the opportunity to break the hold his magic had on him and shortcut away.

Predictable.

The taller fae didn’t even have to turn as a frustrated cry echoed from behind him. Smirking he looked over to the shorter Seelie’s enraged snarl as a thick wall of impenetrable darkness kept him back from where Gaster held Frisk hostage.

“Fourteen minutes.” He taunted.

Sans’s shoulders slumped as if in defeat but Gaster easily sensed the pool of magic building beneath him and leapt, just barely missing a circle of sharpened bones protruding from the ground in a spray of cold fog.

“Ah, intending to actually kill me are we?” Sans slowly turned to face him, one hand still firmly pressed to the wall between him and his wife, his smile gone and replaced with a firm line.

“let her go old man. i didn’t like your games when i was a kid, and i don’t like them now.” 

Gaster frowned and leveled a cruel glare at him. “Who says I’m playing?” 

Sans vanished, the area around Gaster becoming awash in black before snapping into sharp clarity as the judge swung an elongated humerus bone. Gaster dodged with ease and the area once more turned black before returning with Sans coming down from above. 

“Your shortcut’s effects will only do so much to aid you.” He remarked as an equally cold black wall of bones spawned above him blocking his son’s blow. Shards of ice like that of shattered glass rained down, catching the glow of Gaster’s corrupted magic and reflecting it with ethereal light as he shot Sans a narrowed smirk.

“Stop being lazy.”

Sans’s eyelights flared and quicker than Gaster could blink reality dissolved and snapped back in furious and rapid succession. 

The monocle Gaster wore lit up and pulsed.

A blow aimed from the side, met with a gigantic palm.

Bones from beneath his feet while Sans struck from behind, blocked and evaded.

His son’s frustrated smile going wider as he summoned a blaster and fired only made him chuckle at how childish the Seelie’s ultimate defender looked as the powerful beams were easily absorbed by the holes in his hands.

Each time Sans tried to strike or entrap him Gaster simply thought ahead of him and prevented it, his monocle allowing him to peer moments into the course of his son’s actions to determine the best way to counter.

Gaster would be lying if he didn’t admit he was mildly disappointed.

This fight was too easy. 

The moment Sans appeared again and lunged at him, humer raised in defiance, Gaster merely glanced up and shot a hand out from the darkness of his body. 

Sans was shocked as he was locked in place, his forehead glistening with magical sweat as the hand, thoroughly cracked like a jigsaw puzzle and looked as if it was barely held together kept him from finishing his attack.

Apparently his father had seven hands instead of six. Sans wondered if he’d bothered trying to salvage it as a reminder of just how angry and bitter he was at him. It wouldn’t have surprised him.

Sans felt his arms strain as he pushed the humerus stubbornly against it.

Gaster knew he had won, all without barely lifting a finger, he could see it in the way Sans’s smile threatened to falter as it wobbled in the uppermost corner. Logically this was where he should stop. He had made a deal with Frisk after all.

But this was so tempting.

Before him was the very reason he’d been forced to suffer more than he had even when they’d all been locked in the void, the Seelie responsible for sending him to a place where he couldn’t feel the call of nature or the binding of magic that composed their very existence.

Sans could’ve purified him years ago...instead he had chosen to send him away.

He had damned him.

“I owe Frisk an apology.” He stated lowly. 

Sans’s sockets narrowed in confusion and Gaster’s smile broke into a horrifying and twisted leer as his glee and eagerness outshone the calm composure he'd maintained throughout the entire confrontation. “...For making her a widow.”

Sans barely registered the words as Gaster’s palms rose up to encircle him from all directions, their hollow centers lighting up as they prepared to eviscerate him. He went to shortcut but his soul was pinged as Gaster used his magic to cancel his own.

Pulling from his magic started to exhaust him as he summoned another rain of bones but groaned as Gaster once more scattered and shattered them before they could impact. Sans didn’t even have the energy to call another blaster.

His sockets slammed shut as he tried to think but he kept coming up short on figuring out a way to escape, his magic was racing along his leylines and he was gasping as the world went impossibly silent except for the roar of his incoming death. 

...Was..was he really this weak?

He didn’t realize he was so out of practice.

Couldn’t he manage to protect one person?

Sans opened his sockets and looked up passed the Unseelie to the wall standing between him and Frisk, his soul shuddering in agony as he envisioned her floating unconscious and vulnerable, completely at another’s mercy without anyone to help if she cried out for it.

His frisky…

His wife…

Sans could only ever fail to be there when she needed him.

A shout pulled Sans from his spiraling thoughts and he whipped his head around just in time to see a giant orange bone come flying and connect sharply with the side of his father’s skull.

Gaster was caught off guard, his body lurching and soaring with barely any effort into the wall of a building that broke and collapsed around him in a grotesque version of a fairy mound. Sans fell to his knees as Gaster’s magic broke and looked up with relief.

“hey bro...what took you so long?”

Undyne was smirking along with the rest of the guard as Papyrus slowly lowered his hand, his magic thick and undulating around him in a burnt orange aura as his cape levitated beyond gravity's hold in crusted ice.

Papyrus frowned. “HONESTLY BROTHER, YOU KNOW I DETEST FIGHTING.” 

Sans smiled, battle ready and bringing backup? 

His bro was the coolest.