Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nothing ever changed in this dead world apart from him. He’d changed so much, in fact, that it was more like the change was in the way he interacted with the limited world around him. 

Change.

As if he had the power to change anything in any meaningful way. No, that power belonged to another, who had yet to show their face again. About the only change he was capable of was with the physical things left around him in what remained of this dead world.

Change, as in rearranging furniture about the whole of the Underground to keep from going completely insane. Or to hide as much of the clothing left behind of the inhabitants of this world as the sin crawls up his spine, where it lingered heavily over him.

EXP and LV, to remind him of his weakness for however long the past resets ran after the loss of his resolve. Of his inability to remain firm to his own morals, before giving in to the sinister whispers for something new to happen within the hell that his life had become.

Sans was long gone, a killer left in his place once he’d accepted Chara’a offer. A killer, as many called him before they died, different monsters depending on the run. As the resets went by, the name Sans was left behind, and Killer was left in place of a LV 1 monster who had desperately held out for over 1000 resets and more before finally it had become too much and he broke.

It hadn’t bothered Killer, at first, the apathy he felt so great already after realizing he was nothing more than a pawn, a toy, to be played with until the one in control became bored of him and left him to dust like all the others.

He was still here.

Alive.

Until the human came back, Killer didn’t much care what became of him. It wasn’t like he was stuck being killed over and over again as he resisted, even if it ultimately meant nothing in the end.  After all the pain he’d experienced and the relentlessness, focused way that Chara had come after him with, he’d finally accepted a way out once it was offered to him one last time.  

To experience something different.

To live a new way that didn’t have the human kill everyone he cared for and then him.

It was not lost on Killer that he had begun to do the same thing as time passed and reset. Chara encouraging the violence and promising it would end eventually and then resetting again until something else changed. It was the reset a few times before this last run, that Killer noticed he didn’t hear Chara as often. By then, after so many resets after his resolve had broken, Killer’s soul had warped so much it left him in confusion more often than not over how he was to function. So who was he to say if he was actually hearing the kid or not at this point?

The determination mixed with Killer’s own monster soul was an existential mindfuck most days, though not as much when it settled into a target shape outside his body. But when it took the shape of a monster soul, it messed with his senses. Killer sometimes had to think about how often he needed to eat or drink, how much magic did he needed now to sustain himself due to his soul so out of tune with his own body. The other changes to his body occasionally made his bones twitch with repulsion before the indifference returned.

Excess determination mixed in with hate trailed down from his sockets, leaving long black lines that went down cheekbones to splatter to the ground, only to dissipate. Killer avoided looking in mirrors, knowing he’d see nothing but a strained smile beneath empty eye sockets, his eye lights hardly ever lighting but for rare instances when the guilt he felt was overwhelming and the regret brought forth a dim eye light in one of the sockets; rarely ever in both.

Trapped.

He was trapped.

This was something that Killer had come to accept some months ago, if it had even been that long.

Time was a fickle thing, when one was the only living being left.

Killer stopped trying to keep track of how long he had been all alone in this dead world.

There wasn’t much point to it.

Either it reset, or it didn’t.

At least the forest near Snowdin didn’t change all that much, when Killer could be bothered to visit it, what with the memories it contained. And if Killer did go to the forest, away from town, it was ordinarily to do some target practice with his knife as a way to pass some time.

It was routine now.

Hilarious, that, when he couldn’t be bothered with a schedule before. 

A solid thunk sounded as the knife point buried deep into bark.

Killer left it there and summoned up some bones to strike the tree, freeing up the knife to fall into the snow. A few lazy strides forward, and the knife was back in hand.

Rinse and repeat.

Strike.

Retrieve.

Over and over.

A snap of a branch behind him-

Killer pivoted, throwing his weapon with a snap of his wrist, barely looking in the direction he let the knife fly. The blade embedded itself into a branch where the sound had originated from. 

Nothing there. 

Killer did not relax his stance, empty sockets taking in the immediate area.

Heh.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Killer retrieved his knife and idly spun it around his hand, avoiding cutting bone. It didn’t seem like a good sign that he heard something other than himself. The shadows did seem darker near some of the trees but honestly? That could just be his tacky eye goop fucking with his vision. With a final suspicious inspection of the trees around him, Killer went back to target practice. This time, however, he did so with more awareness of his surroundings.

There were no other unexpected noises that day, and that did nothing to ease the mounting paranoia.

”Guess I’m due a visit to Grilllby’s.” Killer muttered to himself, though he kept his knife out as a precaution, inwardly attempting to reassure himself. There was no one else here with him in this dead world.

No one at all.

Alone.

He was all alone.

…it was what he deserved.

Nothing leapt out at Killer on the way to Grillby’s which was both a relief and a shame, as he opened the door.

Grillby’s was the same as he had left it, depressing and empty without the warmth the fire monster provided giving it a cozy atmosphere. And it was silent, without the chatter of the regulars, who would always greet Killer in the beginning cheerfully. Until they didn’t, when Killer would show his true intentions, and the cheer became disbelief then sheer terror.

Now, all that was left was dust littered all over the floor, since Killer kept the door shut and windows sealed.  Clothing was arranged or weapons were placed near certain piles of dust. Even a cup near Red Bird’s remains at the bar table.

The place was now a tomb.

A place of regret, when Killer brought silent echo flowers and placed them around all the piles of dust.

Killer weaved across the floor, sidestepping furniture and around the dust piles, mementos and belongings, to slap the jukebox in the corner to start up some music. It was a piece of shit but it still worked and with it, Grillby’s wasn’t quite as silent. With a hop, Killer bypassed another dust pile and sat his bony ass down on his designated stool, the only piece of furniture clear of dust from both monster and time.

“Heya, Grillbz.” Killer muttered as he leaned over to prop his skull up on folded arms. “Seems the jukebox hasn’t died yet, but it seems to be on its last legs.”

The music played a clearer tune, as if in response to Killer’s words, but there was no forthcoming crackle of a response from Grillby himself, voice a soft flicker of flame or occasionally, like a log splitting within a fireplace.

How could there be, when all that was left of the bartender was a sliver of dust on the counter across from the bar top Killer leaned on?

Next to the dust, glasses and a bow tie were propped up.

”Yeah, I know the music isn’t playing all the way through.” Killer said, unbidden, as he stared at the glasses. “Tried to fix it for you, but the thing is finicky as hell. Figured ya’d want it playing something.”

Naturally, there was nothing said in return.

Killer amiably chattered away as if the fire monster and a few others were there. He did his best to not dwell too deeply on the fact that this was unhealthy as hell as far as coping mechanisms went; to talk to dust piles of long-gone friends. But it was the one thing that helped Killer keep a tremulous grasp at best on reality. It also served as a stark reminder that he had to linger on in case there was a reset.

”They’re not coming back, are they?” Killer whispered, more to himself than his invisible audience. Killer rolled his skull to the side to eye the door before turning his attention back to the glasses, brow bone furrowing. “Why didn’t you just dust me this time around? You saw me headed this way, intent sky-high. You had to have felt it.”

Was it because there were too many bystanders, or was Grillby briefly taken aback by Killer’s demeanor? Maybe it was the fact that Killer had shortcut and viciously used several gaster blasters to reduce Grillby to nothing but cinders and a tiny pile of dust that hadn’t been entirely burned away?

“You tried to lead me away from town in the beginning, when I started killing everyone. Several resets later, you stopped trying.” Killer frowned. There was no way Grillby remembered the resets, so was it just despair and hopelessness that carried over? Some deep seated realization that fighting back was useless? That trying to prevent a slaughter would only bring his end faster? “You had the chance to dust me this time. I was only a few feet away. All you had to do was reach out and grab my exposed soul. Would’ve been over.” Killer’s sockets closed, a brief instance of weariness washing over him. 

No response.

Killer doesn’t expect one.

”Heh.”

This was stupid of him.

Killer should stop speaking to those who were dead and gone. Even those listening in yet not there made no appearances. And wasn’t that a fucked up notion? This world was so screwed up that Gaster and the others who were scattered across time and space no longer seemed to exist after so many resets, and now, at a dead end without one, they never showed up again.

Reset.

Please, reset. 

The jukebox finally came to an end, quiet once more unless Killer were to go over and give it another few good whacks to get it to slowly come back to life again.

Pass.

Killer doesn’t say any farewells as he gets off the stool and weaves past the dust piles, clothes, personal belongings and mementos as he heads for the door.

Grillby, Red Bird, Drunk Bunny, Dogressa and Dogamy, GD, LD and Doggo would be there when he came back.

Reset.

Dammit, kid, reset.

Other monsters, Killer was ashamed to admit that he forgot the names of the other bar guests. Killer leaves the makeshift grave behind, and went for an aimless trek through Waterfall.

Quiet.

Everything was always so damn quiet, day after day.

Killer considered, briefly, napping in his sentry station closer to the Core, but decided against it. He’d rather not wake up to find no reset to be had. Besides, that wasn’t the only reason.

Right now, Killer was being watched.

Maybe.

It was the same sensation Killer felt when practicing in the forest with his knife.

But when nothing came of the sensation, and the gathering shadows vanish the moment Killer looked, he went to staring vacantly at the Core in the distance. Maybe if he stayed here long enough, the Core would malfunction.

But it never did.

No matter what Killer did, it was as if everything was in stasis because there had been no reset of this world for so long. Blankly watching the yet-to-be-overheated Core, Killer eventually turned on his heels through a shortcut. He exited out near where the patch of echo flowers grew in the greatest number.

Killer absently bumped into some, hearing familiar pleas, crying, begging and even some wishes for the surface if they escaped Underground, untarnished by the violence that had happened here. What Killer didn’t remember were the echo flowers dotted with an odd black substance different from what flowed out of his own sockets. Glancing sharply around, Killer cautiously reached out to tap a flower with a foot.

Nothing.

Because of course there wasn’t.

Upon second glance, the black substance was gone.

Huh.

Weird.

Killer continued on his way without a second thought to the echo flowers. He was pretty dead on his feet, from lack of sleep, so he probably just imagined the stuff on the flowers. The presence fading in and out of range was harder to dismiss but there wasn’t much Killer could do about it until he could pin that presence down.

This proved to be difficult.

As the days passed by and Killer began to catch more glimpses of something out of the corner of his socket, it vanished by the time he looked or threw his knife in that direction. Apart from these reactions, Killer didn’t give much of a damn about who or what was watching him. Maybe whatever it was had come to end this miserable existence of his, since Killer was apparently too much of a fucking coward to do it himself, on the off chance a reset might happen and therefore could avoid doing the deed himself.

No one shanked Killer on the rare occasion he fell asleep. Only the nightmares lingered, more vivid than usual.

Killer’s unknown shadow dodged him as more time passed; hell, at this point, he’d completely lost track of the time. It had been so long since the last reset, and his resources were long gone. 

He hadn’t starved yet. It was going to take a much longer time for him to dust of malnutrition because of Chara’s interference. 

Today was already a horrid start, what with Killer stumbling out of a shortcut.

Finally.

Killer didn’t mind that things would now be headed downhill for him as he headed toward becoming dust. His magic reserves had shriveled up at last.

As if picking up on his dreary thoughts, Killer’s mysterious unknown tagalong made an appearance. Killer rounded on a no longer there shadow to find…food and drink at his sentry post. A fast food delivery service was printed on the bag, and a bottle of water sat innocently alongside it. 

Killer blinked.

What the fuck.

He leaned over and could feel the heat emanate from the bag after cautiously opening the bag up.

Whatever it was, it wad fresh.

Killer looked around.

Paranoia.

Was this a set-up; something to lower his guard before he was dusted?

…it smelled delicious. The smell of fresh food was making Killer salivate and wasn’t that funny, as he had to use magic to make that happen. It was a leagues better scent than the last dredges of pieces of food scattered about the Underground.

Another glance.

Weird dark shadows.

Killer’s soul clenched as his magic all but begged to be replenished.

Damn it all.

He’d have to risk it.

Killer didn’t actually want to die, so he swiped the bag and drink as he shortcut to outside the store in Snowdin. Maybe a brief walk back to his house would clear his head and-

What?

Killer stopped mid-step, eye sockets widening as he peered through the window of the store. The store’s shelves, which had been empty for so long, were now filled with to the brim with shelved goods.

Killer was had to be hallucinating now. It didn’t matter that he held the bag of food and the bottle of water. Another stumbling shortcut to his house, and Killer found a stocked pantry and a full fridge of cold fresh goods.

A nervous laugh.

“What the fuck.” Killer repeated as he sank onto a chair. He pointedly avoided looking at the scarf on the floor near the sink as he opened up the bag fully to find a burger and fries.

Yup.

He had to be hallucinating.

Killer took a large bite of the burger after slathering it with the provided condiments, and damn, was this burg better than he remembered it being at Grillby’s. Whoever had made this out good intent into it, despite the contrasting intent of distaste, exasperation and lingering coldness on the bag itself. That was strange, but Killer dismissed it in favor of hungrily devouring the food and guzzling the clean fresh water and leaned back on the chair once done. 

Definitely a dream.

Killer unintentionally dozed off, but when he woke, he felt the effects of the first meal he’d had in such a long time. It was so rich it agitated his magic and nearly made him lose the food he’d eaten. Killer decided to wait before eating or drinking again so his magic settled.

No reset.

Killer stared down at his inverted soul, no longer the shape of a target. He knew he had begun to feel traces of guilt. There was only him, and the evidence of all the crimes he’d committed with his own hands and a knife. It was as if the fresh meal and drink had allowed Killer to better clearly see things with his magic levels restored. To be able to reflect on the consequences of his actions. It all crashed over Killer like a sack of bricks. Killer felt ill, his magic threatening to reject what he’d eaten.

Why?

Why had Killer given in? He’d held out for so long against what seemed like endless resets and Chara’s insidious whispers.

Killer got up and walked over to the front door.

Was it worth the twisting of his morals and his now exposed soul, heavy with determination, to avoid the torture of being broken down bit by bit until he caved?

Killer didn’t make it to the door. He ended up on his hands and knees, trembling and retching.

What would have happened if he had held on, just a little longer? Would it have been worth it to suffer in silence, to let everyone have the chance to live? To wait and accept the pain, the agony, of that knife, on the off chance the human grew bored of the game and Killer’s refusal to join them?

Too little, too late.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Killer lost the battle of holding back the magic lodged in a false throat. This loneliness was Killer’s life now, and there was nothing he could do but wait. Despite the rejection of magic, Killer ate more food and drink. At least he wasn’t in danger of dusting from lack of sustenance any longer.

But facing his own tormented emotions and actions grew worse as the days, and then weeks, passed. The healthier Killer grew in body, the easier it was for his soul to stabilize, and that allowed Killer to really see what was before his eye sockets (or just out of sight). With a clearer mind, the guilt and regret of all he’d done weighed on Killer all the more heavily. The gravity of it all. The most frustrating part of all was that there wasn’t a damn thing Killer could do about the situation, unless a reset happened.

Killer continued to eat the offered food and drink that had mysteriously continued to be provided, intending to keep himself alive. How else could Killer make things right if he was a wreck? If he ever got that chance, Killer would struggle to hide the trauma of…having enjoyed partaking in something different, after over 1000 resets. Killer would have to pretend that he hadn’t murdered all of the monsters around him while also trying to keep control of himself to allow everyone to get some semblance of the happy ending they deserved.

Killer certainly didn’t deserve one. How low Killer had fallen, to let the human get to him, and betray everyone and killed them, over and over, to the point that he didn’t care.  

Until the cycle began anew.

Waiting was the worst part of it all, and often, as of late, after scourging for a meal outside of his house in Snowdin, Killer would end up right back in his house. It was no longer a home, because his brother wasn’t there.

Alive, that is.

The house was where Killer ended up that evening after uselessly meandering about through the woods and staring at the Ruin doors partially collapsed for hours on end. The house may be warmer than outside, but there was a distinct lack of ‘home’ within its walls, covered in monster dust in the kitchen and dust elsewhere from lack of use.

Indecision made Killer stand motionless in the middle of the living room before he finally turned his empty gaze to the upper floor. He was already making his soul ache by thinking of Toriel and the nameless monsters he killed along the way before being confronted. Why not harm himself further by actually going into Papyrus’ room this time? It wasn’t like there was much Killer hadn’t done while waiting for a reset, so why not go let nostalgia cut him deeper for the foolish decisions Killer had made?

…his brother’s room was not any different than usual apart from the dust that had gathered, telling of the disuse of the room.

Papyrus was always so organized.

On a whim, Killer opened up the closet, and was immediately met by the colorful wrapping paper of Gyftmas presents for everyone Papyrus knew, or whom he thought ought to receive a gift from the Great Papyrus. Looking through each present with careful, trembling fingers, Killer paused on a wrapped gift labeled for him.

Sans.

There was even a note on top of it that read:

IF YOU’RE LOOKING AT THIS, SANS, PLEASE BE PATIENT AND WAIT.

NO PEEKING! 

SURPRISES ARE BEST ENJOYED AS SURPRISES, BROTHER, AND NOT AS PRETEND SURPRISE DUE TO TIME AND SPACE SHENANIGAN SNOOPING!

Killer laughed at that, the ache in his soul growing. “I’m such a fuckup, Papyrus.” Killer reached for the present. “I don’t deserve a great bro like you.” Killer caught a card that slipped off the side of the present, and hesitated when he saw his real name written on it. Shaking his head, Killer opened the card, empty sockets landing on the message there, curiously not capitalized as Papyrus would normally write.

Sans-

I feel as if there’s something you’re not telling me. If you want to keep to yourself, that’s okay. Just know that I am here for you.

In lieu of brotherly bonding over your troubles, I hope this gift can keep you company during the times you have those nightmares.

I care about you, brother. Don’t give up. I don’t want to lose you.

Your brother,

The Great Papyrus!

Killer’s regret, guilt and shame rose as he opened up the gift. A toy bunny with a little handmade skeleton mask over its own face meant to resemble Papyrus’. Killer stared down at the plush bunny with the mask, noting that it wore a small orange and yellow jumper with a little red scarf wrapped around its fuzzy neck.

The jumper was familiar.

A jolt, as Killer’s sockets widened with realization.

This jumper had belonged to Papyrus when he was a babybones. He must have made the little scarf out of his own bigger one.

Killer’s fingers slowly reached out to cautiously brush the fabric.

Old and worn from age. But the intent was still there from when Papyrus put the clothes on the plush bunny.

Anguish seeped in over all other emotions Killer was currently experiencing.

He hadn’t…

Killer couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize the little outfit at first. 

”I’m sorry.” Killer’s fingers curled over the bunny, digging into the fabric.

Too little, too late.

No apologies would bring forth a reset.

No regret would bring anyone back.

Killer clung to the present Papyrus had gotten him for a Gyftmas that would never come, breaths hitching as Killer alternated between crying and laughing hysterically. It was like this world’s way of giving him the worst punchline for what could have been if not for his own actions.

Killer couldn’t help but laugh, crushing the stuffed bunny to his chest, just missing his soul.

Everything hurt.

Was this ever going to end?

So deep in his own grief, Killer failed to notice the shadows gathering outside of the house with an unnatural darkness.

Within that darkness, a glittering cyan eye light appeared as the sole occupant of this world was silently observed. It seemed it was time to up the ante and make Killer even more aware of the ‘presence’ he had sensed. Enough consideration had been given to know that this particular Killer was exactly what was needed. 

A slash of a cruel smile appeared beneath the cold cyan eye light.

A long enough time had passed without a pawn to carry out orders. How convenient, to be able to so quickly find one ready for the taking within this vast multiverse.

Chapter Text

There was something profoundly wrong with this world as of late, but Killer was unable to place a finger on it.

Nothing had happened.

No resets.

But there were those shadows. The ones that appeared to stalk him, but when Killer turned to look, there was nothing there. 

Whatever it was that was there in this dead world with him...it made Killer think he ought to be looking over his shoulder. Whoever or whatever was stalking him was something his soul was telling him he didn’t want to cross paths with. Like if Killer didn’t pay close enough attention, then there was a chance that whatever it was that was stalking him might take the opportunity to strike.

This looming, unseen threat terrified Killer.

And wasn’t that just a bitch?

For Killer to be so guilt ridden by his own actions as of late, and now experiencing a kind of fear that other monsters of the Underground felt when he dusted them. Living on the edge, always looking over your shoulder, until the one day you didn’t, and it was all over in an instant.

Killer repressed a shiver.

The Underground no longer felt entirely empty.

There was a distinct unnatural sensation that made Killer’s metaphorical skin crawl.  His bones itched with the need to attack the threat, but there was nothing for him to take out. The wrongness around Killer grew, spreading throughout the whole of the Underground, until only a few places remained a safe haven from the heaviness settling in.

The most worrying thing of all?

This wrongness Killer sensed appeared to become stronger the longer he remained in one place.

So he didn’t.

And not only did he have this weirdness to deal with, but Killer also had to contend with the mystery that was the food and drink being left behind for him.

Killer absolutely loathed the fact that he enjoyed what had been left for him to eat, despite the supplies containing food that he normally wouldn’t have eaten.  But what had started out as good fresh food and quality ingredients became staler and less tasteful, until it was nothing like that first fresh burger he had eaten when it appeared at his sentry station. Hell, the food Killer received now wasn’t even on par with the food from Grillby’s.

Maybe he was projecting his unworthiness to continue living.

But how would the presence have any idea about that?

Honestly?

It didn't even matter.

It wasn’t like Killer entirely cared if the food was good or not, because hey, what he got did what it needed to do. The meals kept Killer alive, and that was enough. Quality didn’t matter when one had been starving themselves when the food was gone, and one was forced to use their own magic to sustain their life.

Killer noted that the mysterious delivery of food happened when he ran out of certain supplies. He was rather suspicious of the meaning behind it, so Killer ended up rationing a good portion of the shelf goods. He ferreted it away all over the Underground, like Killer thought someone was going to steal the food.  And while he did this, Killer had also taken notice of the way the atmosphere around him went back to normal after those supply deliveries.

But this last time, when Killer expected another delivery?

Nothing.

Despite the fact that Killer had hidden food away, he'd realized that each of the past few deliveries, there were less supplies.

Something had changed.

For Killer, that was not a good, because the only acceptable change would be a reset.

Someone was definitely in this dead world with him, and Killer wanted to know how they got in. 

Did they fall in like the human?

Unlikely.

If they had, then it meant whoever it was wouldn’t be able to escape the Underground due to the barrier, which meant they’d have no way to get supplies. It meant this mystery character would have had to come here a different way while being able to evade all of Killer’s attempts to locate them.  This left Killer with more questions than answers about this mysterious presence. At first, there had been observation, then the offered food and more watching.  And now, there were no more offered supplies, and the presence from before seemed oddly…absent. Killer would get at least one of his answers addressed a few days later, when that wrongness appeared again.

That day, a week after the supplies had not come, Killer's soul felt heavy, the inverted soul quivering along the edges.

…he was being watched again.

The shadow was back.

Unlike before when Killer attacked the odd shadow out of the corner of his socket, he chose to keep a cautious distance from it as he attempted to observe it. Killer wanted to figure out who the shadow belonged to; who was hidden within it. To figure out his stalker's intentions before making any decisions. And just like before, the presence moved in closer and closer the longer Killer remained in one place, as if that wrongness had all the time in the world to close in on Killer.

Danger.

Killer’s soul screamed at him to run whenever a sudden cold settled him that was not the cold of Snowdin, and when he experienced an icy shiver within the sweltering heat of the Core.

Something was stalking him.

Watching him.

Toying  with him.

Killer put as much distance between him and that weird presence as he could, whenever he caught sight of looming shadows out of the corner of his sockets.

After an entire week of this game, which is certainly what it felt like to Killer the whole time, he fell back on a short routine to distract himself as he bided his time. He'd thrown his knife at nothing for the fifth time that morning and needed something to do before he lost his damn mind.

Hanging out at his sentry station outside Snowdin it was.

Killer amused himself by leaning back on the stool behind the station, and keeping it balanced on its back legs. He dropped it down and repeated a few times, chuckling to himself over how his brother would scold him for not being alert for a human by playing with his stool instead of watching the path.  Killer eventually lost track of the time until he was made aware of it again.  Killer let the stool drop down to all its legs, stilling as he caught sight of several shadows in the distance through the line of trees before him.  The shadows came closer, becoming clearer in shape, to resemble monsters that Killer had known. As Killer watched, the area he was in darkened around him as the shadowy figures approaching became distinct, if distorted, shapes.

“Well wouldja lookit that.” Killer muttered as he warily watched the shadows approach. Was he finally going to have that long-awaited breakdown? The kind he thought he’d have back in Papyrus’ bedroom when he’d found the Gyftmas present? The breakdown where Killer would scream out his regrets of his past actions, pleading for another chance to make things right, and being denied that. Was Killer currently hallucinating friends and loved ones, right on the cusp of judging himself for all the crimes he’d committed after joining Chara after losing his resolve? Killer didn’t get answer to that, as another shadow became sharper than the others, the sight of which broke Killer out of the odd trance he’d been briefly trapped within.

No.

The shadow seemed to turn to him.

Not them.

Killer scrambled off the stool, taking several backward steps as beads of sweat began to dot his skull.

No.

They were dead.

Well, dead and long gone.

Chara.

That shadow looked so much like them.

Killer could have sworn he saw that distorted slash of a smile, but he didn't stick around to find out.  He shortcut the hell out of there and into his house, just inside the front door.  Standing there as a trembling pile of bones, Killer was unable to easily calm himself down after seeing those shadows and their all too familiar shapes.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

Chara was gone.

Killer hadn’t heard them in ages.

Coward.

He was a coward.

Killer should have stayed and saw who was responsible for those shadows.

He wasn’t imagining things.

He wasn’t.

Someone very real was toying with Killer, and this was confirmed when he belatedly sensed that strange presence closing in around him. Killer was not even offered a respite even in his own house. But oddly enough, he found that he couldn't shortcut, suddenly was sapped of strength. Before Killer could even begin to wonder how that was possible, Killer lifted his skull and froze when he saw his house had darkened considerably.

Something moved in the kitchen.

Someone moved.

Dread built up, and with his voice lodged in a false throat, Killer hesitantly turned his skull to look.

Papyrus was there.

Or rather, a shadowy figure that was twisted and wrong to look at that resembled his brother.

It turned to look at him.

Killer cried out in surprise when the shadow was suddenly in front of him, the body covered in a strange goopy substance that gave it tangible form.  Killer’s bones rattled as he skittered backward into the wall, but the horrifying visage of his brother followed, reaching out with a tremor in the hand.

”Brother, why did you kill me?”

Killer let out a gasping noise as something seized him from behind, dragging him backward into the darker area of the living room. With desperation and fear guiding his hand, Killer hit something oddly solid in the corner of the room with his knife, followed by a volley of differently shaped bone constructs. And a few Gaster Blasters for good measure. Killer was abruptly let go of and he wasted no time in scrambling to his feet, only to find the whole house mired in a heavy cold chill. The cold sank into Killer's very bones, making it hard to move. Whispers started up around him; it sounded like Papyrus, Undyne, and Toriel. Echoes of voices Killer hadn’t heard in what felt like a very long time, warped and distorted as if to reflect Killer’s own wavering uncertainty over whether or not this would ever end. To hear their voices, their true voices...it wasn’t something Killer felt he deserved.

He didn’t deserve a lot, after all the harm he’d caused.

“Why, brother?” Papyrus' voice came from right behind him.

Killer tripped over his own feet in an effort to get away, half yearning to see his brother one more time, the other half full of doubt over any of this being real. For his troubles, Killer ended up planted face-down on the floor, flinching when a hand rested over an ankle, as if to grasp him. Killer lashed out with his shoe, but he hit nothing. Following the kick, Killer rolled over and back up onto his feet to tense up, poised with his knife at the ready after retrieving it. The sight that greeted him caused the blade to slip out from suddenly limp fingers. The thud of the knife hitting the floor did not register as Killer stiffened in place, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

There was no darkness in the house.

No shadows.

Light shown in from the windows and the lights in the house held steady.

There is no Papyrus in the kitchen, covered in a weird, goopy tacky tar-like substance.

What…what had all of that been?

That had been trippy as hell.

Killer stared vacantly at the wall.

That-

He had absolutely no explanation as to what had just happened to him.

It felt very real, as did the unnatural chill which remained inside the house. It had to have happened, because Killer certainly felt the effects of unleashing heavy intent-filled attacks in such a short span of time.  Even now, his body felt heavy with exhaustion from using so much magic after conserving it as of late.  Despite not wanting to crash after such an unnerving experience, Killer found it difficult to remain awake after putting in all that effort.

Heh.

He was due a nap.

Unable to remain on upright as further weariness weighed down on him, Killer staggered over to the sofa and collapsed onto it, passing out shortly thereafter.

Was it too much to ask for a dreamless sleep?

Apparently, it was.

Killer’s dreams were plagued with nightmarish depictions of dusting his family, friends and the rest of the monsters in the Underground.  And as the nightmare became all too real, Killer found himself in his house.  It felt like he was awake instead of unconscious on the sofa.  He wasn’t usually this aware of a dream and didn’t have a chance to wonder why when he realized with a jolt that his brother was in their kitchen.

What.

And more to the point…Papyrus was exactly where he had been standing when Killer had dusted him this run.

What was going on?

Shadows edged in on him from either side, a familiar sensation now, as a chill sank into Killer that he could feel even within the nightmare. 

It was so real.

There hadn’t been a reset, had there?

No.

Killer would have noticed.

Papyrus remained in the kitchen, humming something as he walked back and forth in front of the counter.

Killer knew what he had done this run; how he had jammed his knife through Papyrus’ soul before his brother could turn around, so Killer didn’t have to see his expression. It changed from time to time, but there was always a deep sorrow mixed in with whatever other emotions there were at the time.  Killer was horrified to find himself moving, the darkness closing in until only the kitchen was lit, as if putting a spotlight on Papyrus.  Killer was alarmed as his own left hand raises the knife, as if getting ready to strike. Back before this run hadn’t reset, Killer wouldn’t have fought what the night terrors showed him.

But this?

It was much too real, and with the guilt and regret heavy in his soul, Killer managed to stop his dream self from getting too much closer to his brother. When he couldn’t stop, Killer slowed it down to a step here and there, until he ended up letting out a thin noise of distress.  That was apparently enough to get Papyrus’ attention and damn the others in town who didn’t always think that Papyrus was observant or intelligent as he was.  The expression on his brother's face was questioning, concerned, worried and unnerved.

This was worse than a usual nightmare.

It had taken a sharp turn from what had happened before Killer was forced to live alone in his dead world.

That more than anything made him stop in place.

“SANS?”

Killer couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother.

“SANS?  WHAT’S WRONG?”

Killer’s hand shook, fingers clenched tight around the hilt of the knife.

Papyrus could be heard approaching, cautiously murmuring to Killer as if he were going to bolt from the house via a shortcut.

Maybe Killer should have, to see what happened.

But he couldn’t.

Not when one of Papyrus’ hands landed on his shoulder, and the other lightly held the wrist of the hand that gripped the knife.

“SANS?  IT’S ALL RIGHT.”  Papyrus managed to wrangle the knife out of Killer’s limp grasp.  “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU? WHAT’S COMING OUT OF YOUR SOCKETS?”

Killer let out a pained gasp, breath hitching, as his soul was hit with an agonizing pulse of shame and grief. Papyrus coaxed Killer closer, arms going around him to wrap Killer up in a snug hug.  Killer lost the will to fight against this nightmare in that instant, trembling as he sagged into the embrace and gasped wetly with unshed tears.

Why couldn’t this run have ended like this?

Killer wouldn’t have had to be alone. 

Why couldn’t he stop himself from dusting his own brother?

…he knew the answer.

Killer had become too used to the reset occurring time after time, without end. That this run hadn't reset left behind a hollowness within Killer that spread the longer he was alone. Killer shamefully soaked up the comfort he didn't deserve, basking in the painfully familiar nostalgia of his brother hugging him. This nightmare was unusually kind, to grant Killer a moment of peace with Papyrus. Silence stretched, until Killer became aware of the sudden darkness all around him.

Papyrus’ hug, which had been comforting, suddenly become a cage of unyielding strength, not allowing Killer to draw away.

“Why didn’t you stop?” Papyrus’ voice was now distorted, echoing Killer’s previous thoughts.  One of Papyrus’ now very spindly-feeling hands reached up to crush itself around Killer’s neck.

Killer let out a choked, distressed noise as he was spun about and shoved back first into an unseen wall.

He didn’t try to remove the hand around his neck.

It wasn’t real.

“I could have still been alive if you showed me mercy.”  The hand shifted so the thumb was pressed tightly to the front of Killer’s cervical vertebrae, angling his skull backward to torque at a painful angle. “But you couldn’t resist dusting me, assuming there’d be another reset.”

Killer couldn’t breathe, magic flow disrupted as he was easily lifted off his feet.

“You’re a dirty brother killer, just like all the others.” 

Killer gurgled, kicking involuntarily as he weakly reached up to grasp the hand around his neck. Killer twitched when something slithered around behind him, brushing up against the back of his legs.

Wait.

Hadn’t he been against a wall?

Where’d it go?

“Yet here you are, existing in such a miserable state, with the hope of it restarting to try to change the path.”

The words didn’t make sense, and in a nightmare of all places, Killer couldn't be bothered to parse out the meaning behind those words. He hadn’t even noticed the that the voice had changed from his brother’s, or what Killer thought his brother ought to sound like.

“I will come collect you shortly.” Said not-Papyrus'-voice.

Killer didn’t have an answer to that, because his nightmare abruptly ended with a sharp snap of his neck.  He should have been dead then, but Killer couldn’t move as he was lowered down and came face to face with the hideously disfigured face of his brother covered in thick goop.  The visage bore a terrible smile and a weirdly cyan left eye light, as if Papyrus’ right were not there. 

“It’s all your fault.”

A wet snapping noise, as Killer’s cervical vertebrae was roughly torn the rest of the way from the rest of his body, magic and marrow splattering the unseen floor and walls as Killer’s body and skull fell to dust onto-

-the floor of his living room with a clatter of bones, Killer's body whole and uninjured apart from the jarring jolt into awareness that came after the unusually vivid nightmare. Killer heaved for breath, hand to his throat to make sure it was there. His soul hammered in alarm, struggling to keep the shape of a monster soul, the red edges flickering wildly around as he strove to calm himself.

A laugh, that.

There was no way he’d calm down any time soon.

Killer was far too keyed up after that horrid night terror to even think it possible.

As it was, it took Killer a few good minutes to catch his breath, and it was only then he became aware of the state he was in. Thick rivulets of determination ran down his empty sockets, spattering to the floors as his blood and magic had in the nightmare. Grimacing in distaste over the slick magic sweat that had built up on his bones, Killer sat up and pulled off his jacket, followed by his magic-soaked shirt.  He tossed both carelessly off to the side, disappointed that he didn’t hear Papyrus scold him for not putting the articles of clothing in their proper places.  Killer sat there for a time before standing and using a blanket tossed over the back of the sofa to wipe away the excess magic off his bones. Dropping the towel carelessly to the floor, Killer dragging a spare shirt off the floor by the sofa and pulled.  Killer paused, sighed, then stretched out to tug his jacket. That done, Killer got to his feet, then dropped straight back down onto the sofa to stare up at the ceiling.

His soul felt as if it had been squeezed tightly by a vice after that nightmare. 

Staring up at the ceiling, Killer’s hand settled over his ribcage beneath his inverted soul doing its best to solidify its shape.  A pale eye light full of exhaustion and misery blinked into existence in Killer’s left socket as he continued to gaze blankly at a crack overhead.

It was silent.

There was no reset.

...the wrongness encroached on Killer again, much too soon after his shitty nap turned nightmare extravaganza.

The shadows lingered at the edge of his sockets.

The whispers, indistinct as they were, sounded insidious.

Taunts within the shadows followed Killer when he took a shortcut from his house to Waterfall.

A mistake.

There was too much darkness in this place already and it only deepened.

But wherever Killer looked, there was nothing there.

His stalker’s presence had returned.

Throughout the rest of the day, that presence slowly came closer and closer, no matter where Killer took himself through a shortcut.

This went on for days, and eventually, Killer’s limited patience ran out.  He tired of being tormented by this faceless presence, who was doing this for no other reason Killer could discern but because they could do it.  Days of this, and Killer was ready to kill one last time.  He was going to get rid of his obviously very real shadow, certain that this individual was delighting in his misery and paranoia.

The problem?

Actively trying to pin down the elusive shadow tormenting him with visions of his family and friends was a difficult endeavor.  But the time it took didn’t matter to him. Killer could be stubbornly persistent when he wanted to be. And it almost felt like there was some time limit attached to it, as his soul pulsed with unease when he got to the other presence.  For whatever reason, the sensation he felt somehow made it easier for Killer to shove his emotions down to focus on the task at hand.  

Emotions would only get in the way of tracking down his tormenter.

Killer was thwarted for another two days, until his stalker decided to come to him, when Killer was weaker from lack of food due to his paranoia.  The only reason Killer noticed the presence approaching him with intention was due to how weirdly off he felt.  The only way Killer could describe it was that it appeared as if his emotions were being strung out, and that his negative emotions were slowly beginning to overcome positive ones; Killer's soul wobbled dangerously as he rocked on his feet.  Then, without warning, Killer cried out in pain when he suddenly felt a shift followed by his soul abruptly snapping into the shape of a target, pulsating in a sickening way. Killer briefly felt a loss of control as apathy hit him hard.

...why was he bothering?

What did it matter if someone else was there?

It wasn’t like they could reset his world.

Why bother doing anything at all if it wouldn't make a difference in the end?

Killer had a sense that he should be alarmed at this sudden change but for a moment, as the presence approached him, he found he didn’t care.  But just as Killer was going to allow the darkness to close in on him, to do as it wanted, a spark of rebellion radiated within Killer's soul.

No.

No.

Killer refused to let someone else control him in any way, shape, or form.  

Never again.

Killer barely any time to react when he saw that the darkness had surrounded him from all sides. 

He didn’t waste time. 

Killer had to act, now. 

With a low growl of defiance, Killer lashed out with his knife, going on the offense.  He cut…something, but empty sockets didn’t see any dust. Killer pressed his attacks, slicing the knife through the darkness around him, and sending bone constructs to places he couldn’t reach.  Killer tensed up but continued his assault when the shadows drew closer, moving as if alive.

It was unnatural to watch.

The harder Killer fought, the denser the shadows grew around him, until the darkness revealed several tendrils tinted cyan as they began to attack him in return.  Killer danced around them, dodging with ease, until he accidentally lowered his guard by watching only the undulating tendrils.  Another, unseen tentacle wrapped around Killer's left arm, which was quick to loop swiftly about the limb. This prevented Killer from swinging his knife.  A soft rattle of bones rose from Killer involuntarily when the sinister presence leaned in so very close to him, almost into his back. Cool breath puffed on Killer’s neck as an icy voice crooned mockingly at him.

“You will do." 

Killer kicked backward but was met with nothing.

"Stubborn."

Killer sent waves of constructs and a few blasters.

"Prideful."  

Killer kicked again as he strained to stab the tentacle around his arm.

In response, the other tendrils Killer had been dodging earlier wrapped around him. One went around Killer's spine below his ribcage, another around his knees, while the third twined around his neck, squeezing suddenly, which made Killer choke on his growling.  Killer writhed within the restrictive hold, right arm moving to grasp at the tendril around his neck. The nightmare with Papyrus snapping his skull off his spine was still fresh in Killer's mind.  The tendrils pinioning him in place held as the cold, weirdly wet limbs drew taut, further restricting motion.

“As I stated.”  The icy voice commented dryly.  “Are you aware that your soul is so very malleable in its current state? That makes it more convenient for me.”

A low chuckle, devoid of humor, sounded close to Killer’s skull. The sound chilled him to the core, and an urge to get the hell out of there rose in place of a fight.  Killer attempted to escape the restrictive hold but since his left arm is immobilized, Killer uses magic to stab at the bastard holding onto him with his right. The squeezing of the tendrils doesn’t deter him as black ichor slides from Killer's sockets down past his cheekbones. Teeth bared, Killer continues to let the bone attacks fly, but as each wave is sent around him, the become sloppier in accuracy it became. 

A hand seized Killer's right one.

A distraction.

Killer let out a rather animalistic shriek of pure terror as the other frigid hand closed around his exposed soul. The boney hand covered in the cold goop did not quite touch Killer’s soul, but it was so close that it might as well have.  Killer’s voice cuts off in a whimper, trailing off into a soundless plea for help that no one heard.  He shivered violently at the proximity of this monster, if it was a monster, as it…as he (?)…held Killer in place with ease. As if Killer’s earlier defiance meant nothing. The emotions fluctuating within his soul was a mess, until it suddenly wasn’t.

His emotions quieted down to something manageable. 

Then, as if a candle was snuffed out, Killer felt all emotion slowly die off one by one, until a numbness washed over him.  Apathy sank into his entire being, until Killer felt oddly empty. His soul, a target again, rippled briefly with unease before the unease was squashed into nothing.  Killer’s tremors slowly came to an end, and he hung limply where he was held within the tentacle’s grasp.

The freezing hand finally moved away.

Killer remained suspended by the tendrils, even though they no longer squeezed. They actually held him rather loosely, as if trying to prove something to Killer that he couldn’t be assed to figure out what at present.  He was wrung out and exhausted, though he didn’t feel anything.  Killer felt numb. He didn’t even fight when the hand around his neck moved to grip his jaw with frigid fingers, forcing Killer's skull up at a slight angle.  Killer stared blankly as the darkness before him shifted.  The tendrils were suddenly holding him before someone, that someone holding him by the underside of his jaw.  Or had this someone already been standing before him?

There, in the shadows, a terrifyingly pointy toothed smile appeared, a single cyan eye light boring into Killer from above that grin.

Killer thought that he should be afraid, but right now, it was as if his emotions had been entirely drained out of him, leaving nothing but that emptiness behind.

“I will give you purpose outside of this dead world.”

Killer said nothing.

There would be no reset?

“This place is of no more use.”  The cyan eye light glittered, gaze shifting to the side.  “Get rid of it.”

Killer gained some life in him as he twisted within the tendrils hold.  He'd not even realized that he'd shortcut back into his own house until he saw the present Papyrus had gotten him. Killer's empty sockets locked onto it as he twitched a hand uselessly toward the plush bunny.  Killer stiffened in place when the fourth tentacle stabbed the toy through the skeletal mask, tearing the plush bunny's head off in a distressing display of the way the kid used to cut Papyrus' skull from his body.  Before Killer could react, the tentacle whipped back around to wrap about Killer’s neck to choke him into an unconscious, useless heap of bones.  Through blurring vision, Killer’s skull lolled limply to one side as the monster (?) that caught him moved from his house into some weird bright white place.

There were odd computer noises nearby.

“When I come back, Destroyer, that world had better be gone from my sight.”  The cool voice said indifferently.

“W-w-what-t-t-ever-er.”  The voice had a weird, glitchy sound to it.

Killer’s sockets closed; instead of remaining tight, the tentacle around his neck loosened. 

An agonized yelp, followed by the strange computer fax dial tone sounded, before hitching, glitchy breaths could be heard.

“G-got it-it-it.” The glitch voice garbled out, clearly in agony.

“Good.”  The icy voice said simply.

Killer lost consciousness.

It was the only reprieve he would get before being faced with a grim new reality upon awakening.

Chapter Text

Killer can’t say for certain how long he drifted in the darkness, but at least he was no longer plagued by the monster with the single eye light. What Killer did experience was a darkness, as if his soul were mired within it. Floating on the edge of consciousness, Killer began to experience disjointed and confusing sensations. A numbness that spread through unseen limbs, his soul weighed heavily, dragging him down further from awakening.

This particular darkness…

It gave Killer the humbling feeling of being much smaller than he once believed, but not in height.

In power.

To have somehow garnered the attention of something much more powerful than even Chara and their ability to reset...

Killer found it a terrifying thought. And right now, as Killer slipped further down into that darkness, he experienced a loss of control. His soul couldn't hold him up any longer, and if Killer didn't do something right now, he would be swallowed up by the darkness around him, body and mind, until there was nothing left of him.

No.

No.

Killer fought the darkness, trying to release its heaviness around his soul.

He refused.

Killer refused to let anyone control his life again, even if it was for nothing in the end. Killer fought like hell to get as far away from the darkness. To keep it away from his soul.  An echo of awareness skirted his mind, as Killer reached away from the darkness, desperate to get away. As before, whatever he was experiencing was so confusing and disorienting, but there above him, there was a tiny speck of light, of warmth, that assisted Killer in dragging himself from the darkness trying its best to pull him back down.  The warmth of that light didn't last for long, but Killer could have sworn he heard some whispered apology, before the darkness chased the light away. When Killer saw the cyan color appear, a healthy dose of fear jolted him awake.  Had it not been for that tiny boost of energy from the light, as well as that sudden terror, Killer wondered if he wouldn't have woken up at all and-

His ribcage squeezed as his soul pulsed in discomfort.

Killer gasped in response, wheezing in breaths of stale air as he struggled to fully wake from his disquieting, if nightmare-less, dreams. He was not rested in the least, but here he was, awake and breathing, his soul jittery and panicked. Heaving those shaky breaths in and out, Killer shivered violently. Like his whole body was shaking off the darkness within the dream which tried its best to drag him down into some fathomless oblivion, never to return.  

Finally, Killer's target soul steadied itself, and his breathing eased.

Damn, had that been an intense way to wake up.

With another quick, shaky exhale, Killer allowed his senses to wash back over him. Now that he was no longer in danger of hyperventilating over a perceived slow death that could have taken him while unconsciousness, he could try and figure out what the hell happened. Killer stared upward from where he was sprawled out on his back, but what he expected was not there. Killer gaped, unable to comprehend what he was seeing at first.

Trees.

There were trees around him, in any direction Killer glanced from where he rested on long-dead grass that fell to pieces as he shifted. The trees were withered. Some were petrified in unnatural ways, their branches twisted to one side or the other, as if the tree limbs had been in the process of falling and just never made it to the ground.

This…this wasn’t his home.

Killer checked himself over for injuries but found nothing apart from sore bones where those strange tendrils had held him in place, restricting around him painfully tight to limit motion. He was no longer bound, and Killer couldn’t see his tormentor anywhere in sight. But Killer was aware of the way his mind was screaming at him that this was all wrong. That he wasn’t meant to be wherever he was.

Danger.

His soul pulsed uneasily.

Killer was nearly fidgeting as he sat up and continued to inspect the trees, a wild thought forming as Killer wondered if they would come alive.  An uneasy laugh tumbled out as empty sockets spilled a lot of excess determination out of them.

That was stupid.

It was just a bunch of dead trees.

There was no ill intent anywhere in Killer’s immediate vicinity that he could sense.

It was quiet.

A desolate quiet, as if no one had lived or visited this forest in a very long, long time. The forest Killer found himself in appeared to be frozen in time, left behind for unlucky monsters such as Killer to bear witness to its decay.

This forest...

Killer couldn't help but think this place felt…old.

Very old.

What Killer thought to be crumbled grass in fact turned out to be dust; whether from other monsters or from time, he couldn’t be certain. And Killer wasn’t too keen on finding out when he was all alone, and that unsettling presence of that monster from before was missing.

What exactly was going on, and where in the hell was he? 

With a low groan, Killer shoved himself to his feet, steadying himself. With a quick pop of his spine, and a sigh of relief as that released a little tension, Killer warily began to survey his surroundings, but what he saw upon awakening was exactly what he got now. 

Trees, everywhere.

There was no sun or moon in the sky above, yet Killer could see all around him; just not too far. To Killer, this meant that there was a light source of some kind, so maybe that just meant it was overly cloudy and turning into winter or something? Like Killer found in a book about the surface.  He could handle the cold just fine back in Snowdin, but there was something about this place that set Killer on guard. It felt...as unnatural as the presence that had stalked him, only stronger.

Killer took a shaky breath and let it out.

He was alone.

For now.

After deducing that there wasn't any immediate danger, Killer cautiously began to explore the forest, the trees cooked, withered, dying or dead. Slowly picking his way through the trees, Killer kept his senses alert for any snap of a twig or any noise at all, really. Eventually, Killer began to wonder if he may be walking in circles. But due to the lack of change in the sky above, it was hard to tell, apart from that good old fatigue Killer eventually began to experience. This wasn’t exactly the way Killer pictured something different happening to him, if he ever got out of the endless resets in the Underground.

An icy chill permeated the air.

That presence.

That other monster that had nearly choked Killer off from his magic, who had drained his emotional awareness to apathy and made his soul's appearance a circle like a target.

They were here with him, either waiting for the right time to strike, or watching Killer struggle to make his way through endless trees. 

Killer doubted whoever they were would leave him alone; that weird presence was likely what likely what brought him to this place. So, with this in mind, and the potential of being toyed with very high, Killer produced a knife from his pocket. Twirling it between his fingers in thought, Killer stepped forward and made a cut deep into the bark on the closest tree. 

A marker.

A way to check if he was going in circles.

Killer was in no mood to be played with; he had enough of that with Chara.

Humming a tuneless song, long since having forgotten to words, Killer marked a path for himself as he walked in what he hoped was a straight line.

Time passed.

Killer slowed to a halt when he saw a tree he’d already marked with his blade. A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his teeth.

Confirmation he was being toyed with. 

Welp, there wasn’t much Killer could do until that stopped, so he figured he would take a nap or something until his tormenter decided to show up. Strolling over to the gnarled tree stump he’d cut into deeply, Killer spun on his heel and plopped down onto the dead grass beneath. Tipping his skull back against the exposed interior of the stump, Killer gazed up at the unseen sky, and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Nothing happened.

The trees around him remained still and dead.

There was no breeze.

There was no life.

None that Killer could detect.

This place was deader than the empty Underground Killer called home. It almost seemed like the forest around Killer was being choked of all life, forcing this world to remain in some sort of horrible stasis that didn’t allow anything to change.

Nothing grew.

There was no change in the atmosphere, though Killer would be a liar if he knew how a surface world worked, having never been able to be free of the barrier encasing his home underground.

Killer eventually dozed off, but kept his hand loosely grasped around the knife, ready to defend himself should he sense that damned presence creeping up on him.

Alone, again.

Killer attempted to not let that get the better of him. But it was so strange. His emotions were slowly trickling back in after being forced to the far back of his mind.  But any scrap of positivity was shoved down as the negativity of his current situation began to sink in, soul rippling around the edges of the target in unease. The heaviness of the unnatural sensation settled in around him.

He was alone.

Killer figured he deserved it.  After all, he hadn't even attempted to stop Chara a quarter of the way through the resets, instead choosing to allow the brat to do as they would without his interference. If Killer couldn’t change the outcome no matter how hard he tried, what was the point in trying to do anything at all-

The temperature dropped sharply.

Killer let out a startled gasp as something seize his soul to hold him in place as shadows surrounded him. He struggled to fight the hold, panic bubbling up beneath the self-hatred, switching to a defensive posture as best he could. Killer attempted to swing his knife but found that his limbs were too heavy from the gravity magic being used on his soul. Killer gasped out in sharp pain when the gravity magic squeezed his soul, causing him to drop to his hands and knees. With a low growl, Killer laid his palm flat over the knife hilt to prevent himself from losing it entirely.

The pressure held until all at once, the shadows dissipated.

The heaviness on Killer's soul was released, only for his entire body to feel sluggish as he abruptly found himself in the presence of someone very powerful. It was the same presence that Killer sensed in the Underground. The monster, or whatever they were, that had taken him to this place, and appeared much stronger in terms of magic. Killer clenched his right hand into a fist as the left, trembling, slowly picked up the knife and held it loosely, feeling weaker than before. When Killer was steady enough, he lifted his skull.

He was no longer in the forest.

A dilapidated castle loomed before Killer, a structure of stone and twisted trees all around it, their limbs crawling up the side of the castle, to remain dead and petrified as a macabre decoration.  There was a slash of a moon high over the castle spires in an unnaturally dark sky void of any stars.

A stab of disappointment.

Killer had longed to see real stars, but for that one glimpse of the single celestial body in the sky, he was content, before reality struck and Killer scrutinized the castle.

It wasn’t Asgore’s.

This was certainly not Killer’s Underground. 

Where in the hell had he been taken?

Killer didn't get much time to look around when he spotted the shadows again out of the corner of his sockets and turned to face it.

The shadows dispersed this time.

There, standing nonchalantly a few feet away, was a monster.

Kind of.

Initially, the monster just looked like it was covered in a goopy black substance, dripping off the body but never hitting the ground, all highlighted with cyan. But the longer Killer looked, the more details he could see the shape. The same cyan colored the eye light that stared at Killer in return. Tentacles, four of them, all moved about idly behind the skeleton monster, dressed in an outfit similar to Killer's own. That slash of an unnerving smile sat beneath the eye light.

Unkind.

Haughty.

Malevolent.

The goop covered monster spoke.

“Nightmare. Guardian of Negativity.” The goop trailed down along the skeleton as the tentacles behind continued to idly swing. “I find myself in need of someone to assist me, that I may focus on my own goals.” The dead, indifferent eye light remained fixed on Killer. “Either you will suffice, or you will be locked in the dungeon to provide me a convenient source of negativity until you dust.”

Killer stood frozen, not because of the inability to move, but due to the implications of this monster's words.

Nightmare.

It was an apt name.

Apparently, Killer inadvertently passed some kind of test as Nightmare half turned toward the castle’s front door. With a careless flick of a hand, the heavy wooden doors creaked open slowly, revealing a dim foyer within.

Yeah.

Killer sure as hell felt that surge of power.  He would have to tread carefully around this guy, or just outright get Nightmare to kill him, as Killer had an unnerving feeling that he would never be going back home in hopes of a reset. Just as Killer was trying to figure out what to do about the open castle doors, Nightmare spoke again, as if sensing Killer’s hesitation.

”If you choose to remain outside of this castle, it is straight to the dungeon with you, and I will start again with my search for someone useful.” Nightmare regarded Killer coldly. “Enter, and you will have a week to acclimate to the castle’s interior, where negativity lingers within, whether or not I am in this realm.”

Killer made his decision then and there. He could tell by Nightmare’s face that the so-called Guardian of Negativity already knew Killer’s answer too. Killer himself didn’t know why he wanted to live so badly, apart from the foolish thread of hope that if he lived, he might get back home. Breaths short and panicked, Killer shoved the uncertainty down as he unsteadily walked past Nightmare, bones itching with revulsion over the condescending pat to his skull.  As if Killer was some interesting pet Nightmare found and wanted to see how Killer behaved to see if he could twist Killer to his liking.

Joke's on Nightmare.

Killer really wasn’t keen on cooperating with assholes who wanted to manipulate him.  He'd already resolved to never let the Chara situation happen ever again, and this meant that Killer had a week to figure out how to escape from Nightmare.  Killer would have to get away before he was trapped in a hell that seemed far more dangerous.  Just as Killer stepped into the foyer, he hesitated.  Should he so easily have accepted-

The doors thud shut.

Killer fought hard to not flinch when Nightmare was suddenly close behind him, cool breath ghosting across vertebrae. 

"Having doubts?"  The goopy monstrosity asked.  "I thought you already made up your mind by entering the castle."

Killer didn’t dare turn around as he stared straight ahead. He was perfectly aware of the potent killing intent behind him. Standing in place, Killer studied the run-down interior of the castle instead of the other skeleton monster considering dusting him. The walls were lined with torches and modern lighting both. As Killer stood there, he noticed that the chill was worse within the castle, as Nightmare hinted it would be.

Was the cold...negativity?

That didn’t make too much sense.

Killer was under the impression that negativity wasn’t necessarily tangible, nor was it inherently evil, just as positivity wasn’t necessarily good all the time. Killer should know, what with the way his despair was something he clung to, just to know he was alive, even if it wasn't healthy. 

Besides, negativity and positivity were just emotions, weren’t they? How could an emotion possibly have any sway over the temperature of a building? It just didn’t make sense, from a scientific standpoint.

Killer inwardly shuddered as the chill settled around him, an idle wonder of why he wasn’t dust yet. Maybe Killer shouldn’t have agreed to this, even if he never said a word.

“As entertaining as your uncertainty is, I have other matters to attend to. Therefore, I have little time to inform you of how this next week will play out.” Nightmare moved past Killer, stepping to one side. Casting a brief, scrutinizing glance over one shoulder, Nightmare turned to walk down to the end of the foyer, where he took a step through an archway to the right.  

Killer hesitated.

Was there time to turn back?

Did Killer even know what he wanted, now that he was no longer trapped in his Underground?

The darkness in the foyer deepened.

A sharp spike of pain shot through Killer's soul, spooking him forward to trail unwillingly after Nightmare. Killer’s soul roiled with unease and doubt. Could he even make it through a week?

Did he even want to?

Killer swallowed down a pathetic whimper when Nightmare suddenly rounded on him. In a flash, Nightmare crossed the distance between them to be nearly socket to socket with Killer, the cyan eye light piercing him through to his core.

“If you are finished regretting the choice you have made, then sit down.” Nightmare flicked an irritable tentacle to a chair in front of the large dining table. Across from the table, there was a kitchen, but it appeared that it had not seen much use. “I said sit down.”

Killer winced as he was dragged by the soul and all but thrown down onto the chair, barely able to gasp in a breath to reorient before Nightmare summoned up stacks of paper onto the table before Killer.

What the fuck?

“I’ve no interest in explaining myself repeatedly during this week, when so many others have failed to acclimate to the negativity here. Instead, you will read these files, in order to know what is going on and why you are no longer in your Underground.” Nightmare’s tendrils settled somewhat as he walked out of Killer’s sight. “I will not provide any further information. Only if you survive through to the morning of the eighth day will I bother.”

Killer winced as an icy hand suddenly gripped the back of his neck, claws digging in between cervical vertebrae to agitate the magic there.

”Fail, and you will be a useless husk to be left in the dungeon, forgotten.” The claws cruelly nicked bone and magic. “Succeed, and I will discuss what you are here for.” Nightmare ignored the thin, choked noise of distress. “In the meantime, make use of the kitchen. I have stocked it to capacity. You will not survive if you do not sustain your magic here.” Nightmare relaxed his hand from around Killer’s neck. “If your magic falls too low, the negativity here will overwhelm you. Keep it level, and your soul will have the chance to adjust.”

Killer trembled wordlessly, fingers clenched into his shorts instead of flying to his throat to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. The shaking became worse as one of Nightmare’s tendrils inched closer to slide beneath his soul. Killer’s fingers twitched, unable to help but watch with morbid fascination over the way his target-shaped soul wobbled around its edges. But when Nightmare’s tentacle curled around it, the soul slowly became stable and settled. Whatever Nightmare had done made it easier for Killer to manage the overwhelming fear he experienced from having something so close to his exposed soul.

“This is all the help you will receive." Nightmare's tentacle withdrew. "As the days pass, you will begin to experience a range of emotions. Within my domain, you will find that you cannot escape this castle. Not even your magic will be able to aid you. Those ‘shortcuts’ will not work here either, so don’t bother.  Unless, of course, you wish to feel the excruciating pain of your magic building up upon itself until you fall unconscious.” Nightmare’s eye light glittered.   “Some lived after this. Many others dusted.”

Killer kept his sockets firmly on the stacks of paper.

“Here.” Nightmare used a tentacle to retrieve and drop a slim folder in front of Killer. “Take a look at this one.”

Killer found he couldn’t move with Nightmare so close, but when Killer caught sight of the tentacles sharpening to points over Nightmare’s shoulders, he jolted into motion. With a fumbling motion, Killer hastily opened the folder, and stared in disbelief at the first page.

Alternate…universes?

…what?

“You see the tally marks?”  Nightmare questioned in a bored tone.

Killer found them and saw that there were nine tally marks beneath a name of an alternate universe. As Killer watched, Nightmare used a claw to make a tenth mark.

“You are the tenth ‘Killer’ I have attempted to bring to this castle.” Nightmare leaned in close, expression void of any humor whatsoever. “And before you have the chance to say such things, as the others before you have, know that I am covered in corrupted magic. Do not call it goop, tacky tar or mud sludge. Many of the ‘Killer’s’ before you have said as much to my face, and it did not end well for them."  Nightmare bared now slightly sharped teeth. "I do not entertain nor suffer fools over such trivial matters.”

Before Killer could even process that, Nightmare vanished from view. But with the others departure, Killer allowed his bones to rattle, faint traces of terror slipping along the edges of his current apathy.

The tenth…Killer?

He was…

Killer wasn’t the only one who suffered through all those resets? He wasn’t the only one who was forced to hear Chara's insidious whispers in their skull, encouraging the dusting of other monsters as the resets continued on?

He wasn’t the only ‘Sans’?

Killer didn’t move for a very, very long time, caught up in the implications of what he’d just read. Quiet, with his soul still, as Killer turned over the fact that the world, or rather, universes, with an 's', were far larger than just the Underground he’d lived trapped within his entire life.

It was…it was a lot to process.

Killer couldn’t properly reflect on his feelings on the matter with whatever Nightmare had done to him.  With a vacant gaze, Killer stared at the files and folders left unread on the table but for the one Nightmare all but forced him to look at. Soul heavy over his current predicament, Killer reached out of another file.

Read.

He could distract himself with reading.

Anything so that Killer didn’t have to look around at what, for all intents and purposes, was an abandoned dining hall and kitchen within an equally empty castle.

There was a lot to read.

Killer became immersed in the materials that Nightmare had left on the heavy wooden dining table. As Killer worked his way through each file and folder, he found being unable to properly react to the astonishing scientific proof of alternate universes staring at him with each passage he got to frustrating. But in a way, it made it easier for Killer to digest all of the information instead of curling up into a ball and wondering what the fuck was going on. It happened anyway, but in a more muted way.

Killer let slip a hoarse, disbelieving huff of laughter, his soul steady over his ribcage.

This was such a gigantic reveal; it was much more than a single skeleton monster should be able to handle when they just had their entire world view shattered.  

When reaching for another 'AU' file, Killer repressed a shiver. This sensation.  It was what Killer realized must be linked to Nightmare’s presence.  Killer had no idea of knowing whether the 'Guardian' was in the dining hall with him, or the implied negativity saturating this castle only made it seem like Nightmare was staring directly at him unblinkingly.

The sensation was unnerving as hell.

Killer warily examined the dining and kitchen area, checking for that cyan eye light.

Nothing.

With an involuntary shiver that softly rattled bones, Killer went back to the files. He couldn’t help but believe he was going to have a bad time should he live through to the morning of the eighth day.

Chapter Text

Killer’s first day within the castle was absolutely horrendous.

Being alone in such a cold, unwelcoming place was the worst he ever felt in his entire life, following those damned resets, of course. Nothing would ever be as horrible as those, but this empty depression castle was a close second.

Initially, Killer felt perfectly fine, if jittery, once Nightmare had vanished from sight. Though for at least an half hour, Killer sat staring at his phalange clicking a nervous tattoo against the tabletop.

This didn’t feel real, but it was. 

Eventually, the dark empty eye sockets briefly closed.

There was no turning back now, was there?

With a reluctant sigh, Killer’s sockets opened back up as he quietly reached for one of the files Nightmare had left out for him.

Alternate universes.

A whole entire multiverse.

There were so many different Sans, Papyrus, Toriel, Undyne, Alyphys and others. There were even different kids who fell into the Underground, and how they acted went according to the universes they appeared in.

Like it was all a game.

Sometimes, an au would have a Sans whose  personality was swapped with their Papyrus, an Undyne with an Alphys, Toriel with Asgore, and so on and so forth with the other monsters of that Underground. Hell, there were even universes where the roles of all the monsters were completely changed.

Sans as a king?

There were three files.
 
The Royal Scientist?

A couple of those.

Captain of the Royal Guard?

A lot of those, but mainly in ‘swap verses.

A banished soul living within the ruins?

A handful of that particular au.

There were many more that Killer had to stop keeping track lest it overwhelm him.

The idea of there so many different universes where Killer could have lived differently was a blow to his soul with what could have been, instead of what life had dealt him personally. And even though all of this information was staring Killer straight in the face, the whole concept of a multiverse was so outlandish. And yet Killer had tangible proof in the form of Nightmare, and his slight resemble to a Sans. Beneath all that corrupted goop, Nightmare wore a hoodie, shorts and slippers, but any resemblance ended there with the addition of those tentacles.

There was no way in hell Nightmare could ever actually blend into a universe with those displayed so prominently, along with the unnatural cold his mere presence brought.

The scientist in Killer was itching to see these other universes despite his reservations and the impossibility of it all; to see that it wasn’t a lie. So immersed in the information before him, Killer had mostly forgotten about Nightmare’s none too subtle warning about keeping his magic levels up. The only reason Killer figured out that something was amiss was because he began to feel short of breath.

Damned unnecessary air.

Breathing could be such a damn nuisance; his magic convinced Killer to automatically take breaths so as to not unnerve other monsters,  or the kid initially when they showed up in the Underground. This meant he ordinarily didn’t think much about it, and yet, if his magic was trying to get his attention with the uneven breathing-

A sudden seizing of his soul forced Killer to stop his reading up on the Sans of Underswap (number 7 of those particular aus) as his vision briefly tunneled. Another sharp agonizing clench of his soul, and Killer unbalanced to topple to the floor with a pained grunt. Killer’s hands curled loosely against the floor as he waited for his soul to steady itself. Once his soul was a steady target over his rib cage again, Killer let out a groan of discomfort.

What had that been about, and why was his magic suddenly so much lower than before?

Killer endured several hours of discomfort curled up on the floor by the dining table, a trembling mess as he struggled to breathe, each intake if air more difficult then the last. Soon, Killer could barely manage to simulate breathing, let alone take in a deep breath, without feeling like he was being crushed.

Papyrus.

Killer’s phalange scraped agaisnt the floor.  He was enduring this all for his brother, and while it was likely an unobtainable hope, Killer desperately wanted to be allowed to return to his dead world.

…his magic was alarmingly low.

Stubbornly, Killer shakily propped himself up and began to laboriously drag himself bit by bit toward the kitchen.

It wasn’t too far away. 

Just a little further.

Killer’s soul let out a pant of discomfort, vision swimming as he sent a poorly formed bone attack toward the counter, succeeding in  knocking over some fruit that lie on the counter. Weakly, Killer grasped a pear with a shaking hand, and hastily ate it,  followed by raspberries and a couple of strawberries with the leaves still attached. His body didn’t care as it converted the fruit into magic for Killer. Instantly, the strain on his target soul lessened, and Killer felt much better.

What in the hell had that-

Wait.

Killer’s sockets widened in dawning comprehension.

Shit.

Nightmare’s warning from earlier.

Killer clenched his jaw hard as he stubbornly hoisted himself up to his feet by grasping the counter edge overhead. Leaning heavily into the countertop, Killer struggled to even out his slight, panicked breaths as the reality sank in of what had almost just happened to him.

That bastard.

Nightmare hadn’t been kidding about Killer needing to keep his magic levels up to sustain himself while the negative atmosphere in the castle doing its best to dust Killer by draining that same magic.

The scientist in Killer was fascinated by how that even worked, while the survivor in him knew he’d have to keep a close eye on the amount of food that was in this kitchen. Killer would have to make it all last for the week. And despite his shit skills in cooking, Killer was quick to cobble together a few easy meals. Once done, he made sure to leave some out within reach; some meals and snacks were even on plates on the floor, just in case.

Regular meals.

Wild.

Killer hadn’t much bothered to cook meals with the food that Nightmare had left behind in his dead Underground before. Nor had Killer bothered actually eating regular meals before Nightmare showed up, as the resets had initially been unending. So would be the point of taking time to prepare something to eat when it would just all be reset anyway?

Right now, however?

There was a desperate need for Killer to retain as much magic as he could in order to survive. And if that meant regular meals the moment Killer experienced the telltale sign of getting close to a collapse form lack of magic? Then Killer was going to eat those fucking meals since his very life was at stake.

Hilarious.

It stuck Killer as laughable and pathetic that it took a dicey situation to make him somewhat look after his own health and well-being. Even if Killer already got the sense that Nightmare didn’t give a damn about him one way or another, and was merely making certain that Killer was someone who wouldn’t die from lack of common sense. 

Debatable.

Killer didn’t think he would care either if he didn’t cling to a tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to go back home after dealing with whatever the hell Nightmare wanted him for. Because being alone in a dead world with the possibility of a reset was a hell of a lot better than being alone in a place that could kill him if he let it. Killer may have had shit luck in his home ‘au’ compared to others, but given the choice, Killer believed he would have just let himself dust than eat the food Nightmare gave to him in his Underground, likely racing more attention to himself.

Too late for regrets.

Killer had made his choice, and all he could do was see it through and hope that it wasn’t going to be as bad as his soul was screaming at him that it was.

The second and third day were somehow even worse than the first.

Killer constantly stumbled whenever he stood up, as if dragged down by the negativity in the castle. As happened the first day, the chill of the negativity continued to be its best to dust Killer if he let his guard down for even a moment.

It physically hurt to move.

Remembering to sustain his magic levels ws practically all Killer could think about. He remained within the kitchen, eating the small meals he prepared to restore magic faster than it was being used. As if Killer’s magic recoiled at the castle’s interior mired in the negativity, the weight in his soul struggling against the unnatural atmosphere.

Killer’s dead Underground was nothing like this, as the empty space was just that.

Empty.

And that damned goopy bastard was again correct about what Killer would experience as the days passed. Nightmare had not lied about Killer being hit with a range of emotions, all of them compounding the negativity twofold that it drove his to his hands and knees often. Breath would leave Killer in a rush at particularly painful memories and the emotions that came with them. He struggled to breathe, his soul crying out in agony, regret and grief as his bones rattled, a soundtrack to his torment, with no comfort.

There were no beds.

No blankets or pillows.

There wasn’t even a fireplace within range; Killer presumed there would be one, as he thought, a little deliriously, that Asgore’s castle might have had one.

Anything warm, to chase away the chill, negative or temperature wise.

Killer’s current world was this dining hall and the kitchen. He had little energy for exploration, no matter how desperate the need for comfort or escape from his overwhelming despair. Not when Killer felt unsteady in mind and body, his soul a deep, agonizing dull ache that was so painful it often rendered him immobile for hours on end, memories taking away what little attention he had to the here and now.

It sucked.

The regret was made all the worse now that Killer was nowhere near his home, and therefore, had no familiar surroundings around him to quell any of that regret. Nightmare was a sick fuck to leave him all alone like this, knowing what he apparently did of other aus and how being alone was the last thing Killer needed.

But a test was a test.

Killer was just surprised that Nightmare had thus far resisted the temptation to come back to taunt him.

Another soul-deep ache.

Killer’s sockets closed wearily as he wondered idly what the other Sans like him did when they were here, apart from trying to escape, from the sound of it.

Or just straight up dying to the negativity day one because they forgot to keep their magic levels up, just like Killer nearly had.

Did any of them survive the week, and if they did…how long did bay of them last while fighting tooth and nail against the control over their life Nightmare appeared to want.

Killer hated the idea of being under someone’s thumb, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was outclassed by far in power, and to rebel would just end things more quickly without the chance to get back home.

That was why Killer stubbornly ate when he needed to.There was the nagging question in the back of his mind of whether or not Nightmsre would allow him to go home eventually. Could Killer eventually bargain for that? Prove that he was of use, and that it would take Nightmare more effort to find someone else if Killer decided he didn’t want to play along anymore if Nightmare didn’t give him an eventual out? After all, Killer could tell that the Guardian  was irritated that he hadn’t been able to successfully ‘recruit’ someone to help him do whatever it was Nightmare had planned in that goop covered skull of his.

Possible leverage?

If Killer survived this week, would he be able to secure a promise or agreement to go back home once he accomplished whatever it was that Nightmare wanted of him?

Whatever it was, Killer had a hunch it had to do with all of the alternate universes. 

Why else would Nightmare leave so much information about them for Killer to read up on?

The idea of a whole multiverse filled with different versions of his family and friends and acquaintances was daunting as well as unsettling. Over the past two nights, as Killer dozed fitfully, he wondered if he would have been better off alone in his dying au. But it was useless to think about the what ifs, when Killer still had four more days to go.

He’d be okay.

He’d endure for his brother, and all the regrets Killer had for what he had become by the end in his Underground, and hold on to the hope of getting back for a reset to make things right.

Day four.

Shitty, but much less miserable than the previous two days, and only marginally better than the first.

Killer didn’t do anything but read the papers the files on the table contained. He continued to feel overwhelmed by his emotions but not to the extent that he could do nothing but eat, curl up, and breathe through hitching sobs as his soul was torn at with the same emotions.

Currently, Killer’d come across an au where the Sans and Papyrus, as well as the rest of the monsters were able to reach the surface.

Jealousy burned at the unfairness if that.

The number of the kids who were kind and pacifist outnumbered the ones who were without remorse, without there were other kids who were merely frightened and only reset out of fear of not knowing what they were doing, or if they accidentally dusted a monster.

Day five and six.

Uneventful.

Killer finished going through the files Nightmare had left out for him to go through.

Silence.

Killer felt drained and exhausted, running on empty even as he replenished his magic with those meals, doing his best to not dwell on the dwindling amount of food with how much he’d had to go through to keep his magic level.

The fact that all the papers in folders and files were strictly about it aus and how many were documented thus far in the multiverse had Killer certain now that Nightmare wanted him for something to do with those aus.

But what?

It wasn’t like Killer could just go stroll into another reality without dusting himself, right? There was no way Killer should be surviving here in this castle in the first place, if monsters had specific ‘codes’ that tied them to their aus. Without outside interference, of course, as was the case for Underswap number 7, where the Sans of that world was given help moving around outside of his home au without the worry about dusting. The other case of interference was when someone modified a monster’s base code, to allow traveling between aus, or even completely modifying one’s code to sever them from their original au. The last one made the monster unable to return to their home au, as it would reject them as an anomaly and force that monster to make a home for themself elsewhere and-

Killer’s hands went rigid on the final file that had appeared on the table while he’d been dozing.

Had Nightmare…or someone else…tampered with his code?

Is that why Killer was able to be in this castle instead of just his Underground?

Trepidation rose, then fell.

Killer’s shoulders slumped.

There was no use speculating what had been done until Nightmare decided to show his face again.

With a slow sigh full of continued unease, Killer’s gaze fell onto the blue file beneath his loosely clenched hands. On the front of the folder was a drawn target soul stylized after his own, with a nearly printed ‘no. 10’ beneath it.

A file…about himself?

Killer’s brow bone creased in distaste.

Pass.

He already knew more than enough about himself than he liked, and seeing it written out would only lie out the glaring mistakes he’d made, and make clear the regret he felt for not holding strong to his own morals against Chara.

A longer silence.

Out of boredom, and to ignore the deep ache that remained within his soul, Killer opened up the blue file.

It was empty.

Killer’s skull tilted to the side in confusion.

What did that mean?

Was this some kind of joke?

From what little Killer had been able to read off Nightmare’s face and infer from his words, the Guardian of Negativity did not seem to be the kind of monster to bother with unnecessary jokes.

Killer turned the blue file this way and that as if it held some unknown secret, but Killer couldn’t find anything else written or drawn on the file. Not knowing what to make of it, Killer set it back down on the tabletop with another slow sigh. Absently, Killer reached up to rub at his sternum in discomfort, soul steady just above his hand. Killer ate a meal an hour later, then returned to the dining hall table to just sit down on the chair and stare at nothing in particular.

It was so odd.

Why did Killer suddenly feel like nothing mattered at all?

The seventh day.

He didn’t remember much, but Killer did recall being seated on the chair for most of the day, blankly staring down at the empty folder that supposedly held information about his own au. He’d not bothered eating anything and knew he’d pay for it later.

Killer didn’t care, as it was just too much work for him to get up.

The chill of the castle never truly bothered Killer throughout the days he’d been here, being a skeleton monster and all. But at the moment, Killer dimly noted that the atmosphere was not as oppressive as it had been when he’d first entered the castle.

That…seemed to be what Nightmare had wanted; for Killer to acclimate to the negativity that saturated the castle.

…there was something wrong with him, but Killer couldn’t figure out what. All there was, was that sense of foreboding, where he had passed through some invisible door, and there was no turning around to go back.

The target soul hadn’t moved very much  today.

Killer swayed in place, a sense of vertigo striking him. Without a sound, Killer toppled off the chair to the floor beneath with a painful clatter of bones.

Huh.

Oh well.

Floor was just as uncomfortable as the chair so it didn’t matter.

Gazing vacantly at the stone floor and the legs of the table, Killer didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch when the determination leaking out of his skull began to stain the floor beneath him, and then his cheekbones further as he lie on his side.

What was he doing?

The cold lingered around Killer, but the negativity within the castle never got too close as he remained motionless on the floor.

He was so tired.

Sockets closed involuntarily, a sensation of Killer’s emotions deadening as he did so. But a tiny scrap of hope that wasn’t eaten up by the apathy latched itself to that strange, distant warm light. Killer allowed whatever it was to help assist him in shoving that kernel of not-quite positivity deep within his soul, far from Nightmare’s notice.

The last bit of true emotion gave way to numbness as Killer let go. He stopped resisting the negativity that pried incessantly at his soul. When he did this, instead of consuming Killer and turning him into nothing more than a useless husk of himself, to be discarded, the negativity drew back.

The castle suddenly became just that.

A castle, old and decrepit.

The frigid beds that had attempted to destroy Killer the moment he entered the building started to fade.

Killer’s breathing eased, but he was so out of it and near to passing out that he didn’t even notice. In addition to the cold all but vanishing, Killer’s magic no longer felt like it was being siphoned out of him at an alarming rate, and instead evened out.

The apathy remained.

Any emotions Killer experienced this past week became nothing more than a distant memory, including that sliver of hope now hidden away.

The warm, if weak, presence was gone.

A broken Sans lie on the floor in the castle’s dining hall, without cause or purpose.

Footsteps approached.

Killer did nothing when dark, cyan tinted tendrils looped around his body and hoisted him up into an upright position. Killer didn’t protest nor jerk away when an icy, bony hand covered in a dark substance seized his jaw and turned his skull from one side to another. Killer just let the other monster pivot his head, like it didn’t even belong to him right now. There was no struggle like there was when Killer had initially been taken from his home.

”I was not sure you would endure.”

Nightmare.

The fingers tightened just a tad. Nightmare craned Killer’s skull back and to the side at a painful angle, watching, as if waiting for something.

What that was, Killer wasn’t sure. He simply allowed Nightmare to hold his skull in that agonizing position for as long as Nightmare wanted.

”I was uncertain if observing yet another au like this was of any use, but it appears so if I am to take one of you out of the au.” Nightmare lightly curled his phalange beneath Killer’s jaw, claws digging into bone cruelly. “From the information I have gathered from previous failures…acclimating to the negativity is just the first step.” The cyan light lingered on empty sockets before Nightmare let go of Killer’s jaw as the tendrils around Killer guided him to stand on his own. Once Nightmare apparently deemed him steady, the tentacles let go, and Killer swayed on the spot, but remained upright. “The final matter at hand…let us see how you react, shall we?”

Killer stared blankly at the Guardian of Negativity, uncomprehending.

“Did you understand the last folder?” Nightmare questioned, tentacles slowly curving, poised for striking.

Killer couldn’t find his voice yet so he merely shook his head.

“The empty file means that since you have survived to the eighth morning, you now work for me, and will until I decide I no longer have a use for you, whether through being broken beyond repair, or due to your own actions that I deem detrimental to furthering my ultimate goal.”

A flicker of rage and grief rose within Killer, to be denied going home, the emotions rising sharply before they could be squashed down at Nightmare’s next statement.

“You will not return to your au. It no longer exists.” Nightmare didn’t turn around. “As soon as I retrieved you, I directed an…associate of mine to get rid of it, in order to prevent your soul from being pulled toward it. I will have nothing distracting you from your new purpose, lest you disappoint me and I have to begin anew with another.” 

Gone.

Killer stared at Nightmare as he struggled to process the words.

Gone.

His au was…

His home…

Killer’s…

It was…it was…

Gone.

Killer should be horrified by that fact but he couldn’t feel anything at all but for a small sense of alarm and that rage simmering beneath the surface of the numbness.

“Come with me.” Nightmare turned on his slippered heels to walk out of the dining hall. “We have much to discuss.”

“It’s gone.” Killer whispered. It sounded too final. How could anyone just…destroy an au like it was nothing? How was that even possible?

The codes?

“I said come with me.” Nightmare spared a brief look at Killer, but the skeleton monster didn’t move, red target soul  gaining some motion from its stillness as it began to wobble at the edges. “I am in no mood to deal with temper tantrums from an adult monster.”

“My Underground is gone?!” Saying it aloud was worse thin thinking it. Killer never bothered raising his voice, but the shock of hearing Nightmare so casually talk about his home no longer existing broke something inside of Killer that the otherwise indifferent nature that had sunk into him. Killer’s soul began to pulse erratically, the circle losing its shape as he let out a despairing scream of loss and denial. Knife flashing to his hand, Killer rushed Nightmare, his vision wavering as he slowly lost all thought as he focused on the source that had caused him such sudden pain.

Blinded by the onslaught of suddenly going from emotionally numb to experiencing nothing but raw, agonizing pain, Killer swing his knife over and over, launching magic as if he were fighting more than one monster.

The emotions all cumulated to a soul-crushing agony that sent a sharp, unfamiliar pain through him as Killer realized he would never see Papyrus or any of his friends ever again. or family again. Killer would never get to apologize or make amends. He’d never get to the surface he and the other monsters of his Underground had desperately hoped for years to see.

”What point is there to this?” Nightmare sounded aggravated about something. “Now I will have to see to it that you do not foolishly waste my time by dusting yourself.”

Killer snarled out incoherently as he continued his desperate assault, the rush of not being active for so long invigorating him as he pursued Nightmare into the foyer. Chest heaving with exertion, Killer ignored the growing ache in his soul and the negativity trying to weigh him down in favor of trying to get to Nightmare. To get to the one that had nit only tormented Killer for weeks on end, but had so callously taken Killer’s home from him without informing him beforehand.

Killer had…

Killer had been forced to live in this castle for a week to try to acclimate to the negativity. And all the while, Killer stupidly thought that if he survived, he could go back home eventually. All the struggle to hold on for family and friends, all for nothing.

Nightmare had taken his home, and a possibility of a reset, from him.

Now, Killer had nothing left to live.

No home…

Killer stumbled, his energy used up. He felt his magic break, a sudden surge of burning agony centering on his soul. Maybe he should just direct his attacks his way, as there was no way that Killer was going to work for someone so manipulative and-

Tendrils squeezed around Killer’s limbs and unceremoniously slammed him into the nearest stone wall. The new pain dazed Killer as the knife in his hand is taken.

Killer bared his teeth as he weakly fought to free himself from the tendrils, but the appendages merely held firm.

”Such news is enough to crack your soul? I had assumed you were stronger than that.” Nightmare hissed out an irritated breath. “I did not think I would already have to sustain your soul to keep it from dusting. You had better be worth the trouble I am going through.” With another exasperated grumble, Nightmare secured Killer within his tendrils, before walking up the stairs to a second floor.

A crack…in his soul?

Killer shivered the longer those tentacles held him, unable to do anything when one of the ended up looped around his throat to keep him from squirming. Killer hung limply at that while Nightmare walked in silence until he reached a door and entered into a very large office.

“In addition to stabilizing your soul until the crack seals over, it also appears I will have to keep you out of your mind for a time, to prevent issues such as this from rising as often until you learn your place.”

Killer sucked in a shuddering gasp when Nightmare’s hand went beneath his soul. Slowly, but by bit, the pain reduced to nothing more than a dull ache. The sudden rage that had risen up within Killer fizzled out. The regret and grief diminished as well, until all Killer knew was an all encompassing numbness.

“Now then.” Nightmare dropped Killer into a seat across from a desk that the guardian walked behind to sit on a chair of his own to fix the other with a glare. “Going forward, you will address me as ‘boss’ or ‘sir.’ Understood?”

“…yes, boss.” Killer answered, void of any emotions.

”And are you finished with such useless displays as you exhibited before?” Nightmare queried.

No.

Killer refused to give in. He-

“Answer me now.” Nightmare growled, tendrils rising up to undulate threateningly over his shoulders. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum over an au that is as you are beginning to seem?”

“Yes, boss.” Killer’s voice briefly caught at first but he got the words out without stumbling over them. His  fingers twitched against his femurs, gripping fabric tight, claws nicking through to bone.

“Good.” Nightmare eyed Killer’s solid unwavering target soul, and the crack that ran across half one side of the soul. Finding whatever it was he was looking for, the cyan eye light lifted to met Killer’s empty ones. “If there is no further pointless resistance, I will explain your role here.”

Killer may have his emotions numbed to cover up the horrors of what his life was soon to become, but that tiny speck of hope buried deep within his soul, hidden from Nightmare’s notice, desperately cried out for help.

…but no one came.

Chapter Text

Hindsight was 20/20.

Killer blamed his shortsightedness on the distraught, lingering emotions that came with the news of his home universe being completely removed from existence. He didn’t realize it at the time, but in the he’d been in the castle, Killer was about to make his final mistake in Nightmare’s presence. 

Until that moment?  

Killer had only his new role given to him by Nightmare to occupy his mind for two whole weeks. That role was not going to go over well for Killer. Already the ‘adjustment’ to the role Nightmare was ‘graciously’ allowing was going terribly.

Why?

Because Killer refused to play along with Nightmare after that goopy bastard had informed him his universe, his home, was now gone.

And the role Nightmare wanted Killer to play for him?

A lackey.

Nightmare wanted a lackey.

A obedient pawn whom Nightmare wanted to send to different aus to help spread negativity. More importantly, Killer would be an easy target to focus on if he were causing a disruption versus Nightmare. This way, if Killer was ‘doing as ordered’, he would give the Guardian of Positivity and his small group of defenders someone to focus on and pursue. And while they were occupied with Killer, Nightmare would be free to go to other aus as he pleased to further his negative expansion within the multiverse. And he would come to collect Killer once finished, no matter the condition Killer was in.

Nope.

Killer wasn’t interested in being some convenient scapegoat; to be used as a target of hate to be focused on in place of someone who was plunging the multiverse into despair and hopelessness.

Killer already had enough self-hate as it was. He didn’t need other Sans’ or any other monster that might fight back hating him too with how much he could sense intent now. Killer didn’t need to go through all the pain and soul-crushing despair that Chara had put him through those over 1000 resets.

…he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

But Killer would fight as hard as he could to make Nightmare’s life hell until the bastard decided to let him just die. Or Nightmare could just drain him if any emotions and just shove Killer into a positive or neutral au without any pushback. 

According to the files Killer had read, the positivity within the multiverse was growing weaker, and many monsters who were aware of the balance within the multiverse were frantic to stop Nightmare’s slowly increasing chokehold on it.

As for two weeks passing without Killer leaving the castle?

Nightmare was smart enough to know that if Killer was allowed out into another au right now that the empty socketed monster was more likely to just find a quiet place and take a snooze instead of do anything productive. Nightmare had to know that Killer has zero interest in obeying him. That instead of fighting directly against him, Killer would just choose to do what he did in his now gone universe.

Nothing.

It wasn’t like Nightmare had any leverage over Killer now that Killer’s home universe was gone.

But Nightmare wouldn’t dust him.

An impasse.

Too bad for Nightmare that Killer was going to try and convince him that he was better if with Killer gone. Nightmare wanted someone to work for him and since Killer stupidly lived for a hope that was gone…Killer had an uneasy feeling that Nightmare would figure out other ways to try and make him obey.

Killer would be difficult about it because he didn’t care that Nightmare wasn’t in the mood to go out and get another monster to be his pawn. 

Nightmare was probably using these past two weeks to figure out how to force Killer’s complete obedience. To make Killer carry out any order given without question. 

Killer used that time to learn the Guardian of Negativity’s pattern within the castle. 

The two of them were waiting out the other.

Nightmare used another tactic, using Killer’s loneliness against him, as if attempting to force him to seek out his company, instead of being completely alone and isolated.

Killer refused.

He’d rather be alone than in that callous bastard’s presence.

Killer wasn’t sure how long he observed Nightmare’s daily activities after those two weeks he’d spent in the castle, but eventually Killer discovered a very clear pattern.

When Nightmare wasn’t observing him from a dark corner of the castle, as if wondering why Killer wasn’t bothering to explore the rest of it, he was in his office or out of whatever this universe was.

Killer didn’t ever go further than the foyer, kitchen or dining hall, because in his mind, venturing any further into the castle would indicate that he had accepted that this was going to be his life now. That Killer ought to familiarize himself with what was supposed to be his new home.

This made him sick, when his soul was allowed to feel anything but the numbness.

Killer hated that Nightmare assumed he’d find it as a home or a hideout, more likely. Killer hated it all as much as he could whenever he didn’t have diminished emotions.

Just the other day, he’d taken to grinning as cheerfully (if completely fake and insincere) at Nightmare, just to try and piss the guardian off. It never worked, but it made Killer feel a tad better with faint instances of defiance.

One evening, approximately three weeks and two days into living inside the castle, Killer made his move. 

If he couldn’t escape this new hell on his own, then Killer was damn well going to make Nightmare reconsider whether it was worth keeping Killer around if the target souled monster did everything in his power to fight tooth and nail agaisnt what Nightmare wanted of him.

Presently, it was evening. Killer knew that meant that Nightmare would spend the evening hours in his office. The guardian would be focused on pouring over data from certain aus he wished to go after, what the defenses were like, if it was a surface au or not, how likely it was that the guardian of positivity would show up, and the like.

Interestingly, Nightmare never gave his opposite a name, as if finding the very thought distasteful. All he had ever said on the matter was that that positive ‘fool’ continued to hold out hope that Nightmare was someone he no longer was, and never would be. That the one the other guardian wanted to speak to desperately was dead the moment the corruption took over.

Killer hadn’t asked for the information, but he’d been sprawled out in the chair across from Nightmare’s desk. The guardian didn’t seem to care at the time and had spoken to Killer without any prompting.

To be fair, Killer’s emotions had been numb and he’d been staring off into space. But he’d remember the strange comments and keep them in mind.

…Killer was getting cold feet, delaying his plan. He had to try this, or he wouldn’t ever get another chance. If Nightmare got wind of his plan, he’d put an end to it before Killer could even try.

Focus.

Killer used all the stubbornness he held within to refuse to obey anyone but himself ever again. With that, Killer managed to find it in himself to shortcut for the first time since ending up in this place. A hope lingered that Killer could use enough wild, desperate magic to shortcut; maybe he could somehow jump to some other universe. Even if it wasn’t home, anywhere was better than this castle.

It worked.

The elation of a successful shortcut through the void was short lived.

Killer wasn’t in another universe. The hope of escape was crushed into the ground as he realized he’d only shortcut as far as the outside of the castle.

Not far enough away.

Not at all.

Shit.

This was bad.

The burst of energy ended when a heaviness weighed Killer down, halting him in his tracks.

Nightmare knew.

The negativity curled around Killer until he ended up collapsing against an unseen force. One moment Killer was alone. The next, Nightmare stood there, quietly observing him.

The stubbornness remained.

Killer forced himself to his hands and knees, limbs trembling with effort to remain up, only to lose strength and slump to the dead grass beneath him. As the empty-socketed monster lie there, he wondered if he could get Nightmare furious enough to kill him. Were Killer’s actions since being in the castle enough to convey to the Guardian of Negativity that he would rather die than be under someone else’s control? Become dust, since Nightmare had omitted the information that Killer’s home au was gone?

“I wondered when you would try such a foolish act. You cannot hide your simmering anger toward me over your au being removed from existence.”

Killer couldn’t get a read on Nightmare’s tone and wasn’t able to see his face, but Killer did not mistake the way he was roughly thrown backward by a tendril. The force was enough to roll Killer along the ground several times over until he came to a stop on his back.

“It appears that a lesson is in order to drive home the fact that I will not tolerate disobedience and acting out from you. I have allowed it for longer than I ought to have.”

A wet snap rang out.

The sound of a broken bone.

It took Killer a moment to register that one of his femurs had just been snapped but it hadn’t dusted, hanging on by thin thread of magic. Killer’s breath stuttered out as he breathes through the pain, as well as the uncomfortable sensation of negativity choking his soul.

Another snap; his other femur.

Killer’s mind caught on faster this time, and he weakly bit back a cry. He jerked backward, arms scrabbling for purchase in the ground behind him, claws sinking into dead grass and dirt as Killer attempted to drag himself backward, away from Nightmare. 

It was a pathetic sight.

Nightmare actually allowed it, likely because Killer couldn’t move very well through the pain. The guardian waited impassively, not blinking his single socket over the sight Killer frantically clawing at the dirt to scoot him backward a couple of inches.

The agony of broken, bleeding bones hanging by stands of magic forced Killer to stop, unable to go further as his phalange let go and he sank down, skull thinking back into the ground as his ribcage heaved, soul pulsing in subconscious fear when Nightmare said nothing but moved closer.

This time, Killer can’t hold back a whimper as thin strands of shadows twined through the ulna and radius of either arm.

Dread.

Nightmare’s cyan eye light met Killer’s empty sockets.

There was no mercy in that light.

Resignation.

The searing pain as the shadows constructed around bones hit Killer as both of his arms were broken, useless pieces held in morbid strands of magic struggling to hold the arm together. It was all wet with marrow and he could feel it as the shadows cruelly unwind and shove the pieces of bone into the ground as it made a sharp choking sob drag itself out of Killer’s false throat.

Killer’s HP remained completely untouched.

Nightmare continued to be eerily silent but he doesn’t need to say a word to convey his intentions to cause Killer as much agony as was possible for daring to not be an obedient lackey right away.

The world shifted around them, from outside the castle and into what could only be the dungeon.

The interior was dark and unwelcoming.

The frigid chill immediately sank into Killer’s bones, broken and not, which punched a sharp exhale as his back landed none too gently on the floor of the cell. Killer writhed in agony from the sheer pain that came from the impact against the hard floor.

It hurt.

It hurt it hurt it hurt.

Why weren’t his bones dust?

Why didn’t the magic break away from the shattered pieces of bone?

A tentacle slammed the ground alongside Killer’s skull, dragging him out of his agonized thoughts.

“I said listen to me, you pathetic wretch.” Another harsh crack of the tendril to the ground. “Stop that at once!”

With a stifled sob this time, as Killer wasn’t giving Nightmare the satisfaction of hearing it a second time, Killer somehow managed to lie still, ribcage heaving with shuddering breaths. 

“Good, it seems you can listen.” The tentacle lingered nearby. “You ‘tale Sans often dwell on what happened or could be, so use this time to think about what shall happen when I return.”

Killer squirmed in discomfort over two cyan-tinted tendrils curling to rest over his entire ribcage, the tips of the tendrils skirting around the edges of Killer’s soul.

”You will cease these useless displays if ignoring my orders or attempting to flee; there is no free will for you here but what I allow.” The tentacles rested heavier against Killer’s chest, drawing out a pained choked. “Continue to test my patience, and you will not like the results. I have already informed you that I am uninterested in having to start my search anew with your acclimation to the negativity here. I believe these little outbursts of yours can be easily dealt with given proper… lessons until you accept your place here.” Nightmare’s tendrils lifted up, allowing Killer to suck in a few gasps of air through the burning agony. 

Killer bit back a scream as a tendril suddenly snapped out to crack his left humerus.

“I will return when I sense you are ready to listen to reason. Until then, I will ensure you do not dust from this.” Nightmare walked out of the cell, leaving the door open, as if to taunt Killer. “Banish the notion that I will allow you to die so easily with such pathetic displays you have shown thus far.” 

Receding footsteps announced Nightmare’s departure.

Killer gazed vacantly up at the dungeon’s ceiling. The only light was the dim glow of his soul, casting his surroundings in a soft red. Killers sockets closed, sweat beading along his skull as he breathed shallowly, able to feel the way marrow leaked sluggishly along the broken area of his bones. Nightmare’s parting words made it clear he had no intention of allowing Killer to die, no matter what he did or the wounds he sustained. What Killer hadn’t expected was that Nightmare wasn’t the only one that would be keeping him alive.

”T-t-th-tha-t-t bast-bastard-d.” A strangely glitchy, stutter-filled voice growled. “S-sick f-fu-fuck. This-s makes you-you the tenth o-one-ne , h-huh?” A humorless laugh. “Sucks to be-e here in this-s shit-it castle, but at least I got-t my anti-void to sta-stay in.”

Killer was in too much pain to turn his skull, but he didn’t have to when a black skull with sockets backlit in red leaned over him, blue lines scored down cheekbones, but not actively dripping or anything like Killer’s determination leaking out. The skeleton monster had a tattered blue scarf around the neck, the end dangling and nearly brushing Killer’s exposed soul as mismatched eyes lights looked him over.

”He got-t you go-good. What-t a jack-ack-ass.” The skeleton monster groused as he sat his coccyx down next to Killer’s side, tattered black jacket with yellow details over a red sweater as he pulled up some strange floating square with numbers on it that the skeleton seemed to be able to move with a flick of a phalange (the tips were yellow, then red, then leading to black near the palm).

What the fuck?

”Dream be-better be r-right about you-your resolve to give Night-nightmare the middle-le finger-r, to buy-y time-me.” Those multi colored eye lights flickered to Killer briefly then back to the screen. “Though-gh both he and Night-nightmare-re ought-t to remember-er how disinclined-ined ‘Killer’s’ are to being-ing under another’s the-thumb.”

Killer’s sockets were scrunched up from the dull flare of agony of his fractured and broken bones. Where the hell had this skeleton monster come from, and why did Killer distantly recall static when Nightmare had taken him from his home au?

“Don’t think-k too hard-d about it. Just rest-st, dumbass.”

Killer found it in him to twitch his right hand over to flip off the glitchy-sounding skeleton monster, who only snorted in faint amusement before turning back to whatever it was he was doing, while providing what Killer guessed was the glitchy monster’s name.

“Error.” 

Chapter Text

The glitchy skeleton monster was quiet as he scrolled through the some strange floating flat box with numbers. This Error wasn’t exactly ignoring him, but it wasn’t like Killer couldn’t talk without it being a pathetic wheezing cough anyway. 

But dammit, Killer had so many questions for Error, because of all the files he’d gone through, Killer didn’t recall there being one on this guy at all.

The other monster seemed to pick up Killer’s weary, scrutinizing gaze. Or not so empty, as a dim eye light briefly flickered into existence to watch Error’s hand move away from the floating box to his scarf to grip tightly.

Killer stared at Error for a moment before he realized that the other had cracks around his left socket, like someone had struck it hard.

“N-night-nightmare-are doesn’t like-ike it when those he sees as his dis-disobey-ey him.” Error commented, eye lights on the screen in front of him. “S’difficult-t to get away-ay once you get invol-involved with Nightmare-mare when he wants something-ing from you.” Glitches ripple along Error’s entire body before they settle. “He won’t take-ake no for an answer-er.” Error’s teeth tugged down at the corners in a frown as he glanced at Killer. “…you know-ow how to read-ead hands-ds-s?”

Killer issued out what sounded like assent.

“All right-t, ‘cause it’s easier-er for-r me right now-ow to sign after-er the lastest-est shit Night-ight-mare-re did when he went-t to go get you-you-u out of your-r au, drag-dragging me out of my home-me.” Error switched to signing as he half-watched the numbers on the box.

‘That bastard was quick to figure out what makes me tick. Nightmare was even quicker to exploit it, among other ways he was able to get me to show up and do what he wants. Fucker.’ Errors signing was rough and angry.  ‘If only I could get to his code and rip it to pieces.’ A disappointed scowl. ‘But Nightmare’s too quick to pick up on that kind of intention, so now he and I are waiting for the other to slip up.  It’s frustrating as hell to be able to not tear him to pieces.”

Killer lie on his back as he mulled that over since it doesn’t hurt as much if he didn’t move. He could understand the want to do serious damage to someone tormenting you without a foreseeable end. Killer’s gaze went back to Error’s signs, noting the more serious expression on the glitchy skeleton’s face this time.

‘Keep fighting, keep daring Nightmare to kill you, and it will only make things worse for you in the end.’ Error’s eye lights brightened then dulled. ‘I get it. Being outta control sucks.’

Killer studied Error closely, reading the fact that Error experienced such things and meant every word he was now about to convey.

‘Nightmare knows what you’re trying to. You aren’t the only Killer or other monster that’s tried to goad him into killing them. But he’ll take advantage of that fear of loss of control over your life to get to you. This?’ Error indicated Killer’s prone, broken body. ‘This is not even close to what he can do to break you in mind. If you think this is bad, then take it from me, as someone who has repeatedly told him to fuck off, and failed. Don’t.”

Killer blinked at that, but didn’t have it in him to say how much he wouldn’t stop, and Error seemingly was adept at reading faces too because he nodded to Killers unsaid words.

‘Yeah, stopping is the hardest part. Even if you may always want to dust the fucker for taking away your freedom, you don’t want to let him get inside your head, and lose what control you have left. Especially not through dreams if you push him too far.’ Error shivered involuntarily, fingers pausing before continuing on. ‘That shit fucks you up worse than physical pain, and I already had enough trouble piecing my past back together without his interference.’

Despite not being able to feel much pain-wise, Killer briefly trembled over remembrance of those hyper-realistic nightmares in his home au.

‘Yeah.’ Error caught the faint motion and nodded in agreement, again as if hearing an actual response from Killer. ‘You’ve experienced it before. It gets worse. So much worse. It took me months to recover from the last time he sent me into nostalgic hell where I was experiencing resets, then the save screen, and then being all alone until I was this. Error indicates himself. ‘Real fucked up way to connect the dots of a fragmented, distant past.’

Killer frowned; he understood the hell of going through the resets but what did the rest if that mean?

“Bastard really-y did-didn’t tell-ell you a-any-anything-ing about m-me, huh? Error asked aloud.

Killer slowly blinked his sockets once more, the black ichor continuing to leak down past his cheekbones in thin rivulets. Skull tying a fraction, Killer wheezed breaths in and out through his teeth past the pain as he watched Error’s multi-colored digits begin to sign again.

‘Long story short, I figured out that I started out in a world similar to yours, a ‘tale verse, but the kid in my world just kept killing everyone over and over, but never once offered me to join in. All this human did was choose the genocide route. Eventually, it got to be too much and I injected myself with determination before going to fight the human.’ Error’s eye lights looked off to the side, as I’d struggling to remember the details. ‘It’s hazy; I’m not entirely sure how but I escaped the Underground, annd found myself in a dark place with a patch of grass called the save screen.’

Killer shifted, sucked in an agonized hitch of air, then lie still.

Error willingly injected himself with that shit?

’My right socket was starting to melt, if you’re curious. But it stopped when I entered that place.’ Error checked the numbers on the screen in front of him and tapped a few of his distal phalange on something.

Killer suddenly didn’t hurt as much.

Strange.

The target souled monster turned his full attention back to Error.

‘I was trapped, wherever I was, and after the human reset a few times, without error showing up? My au glitched out and reset the human to the very beginning, and with that, brought in another Sans to take my place.’ Error stared at the screen. “In trying to wrest control from the human, I condemned myself to being all alone, only able to watch as the new Sans and my brother went through other kinds of timelines. Like my not being there somehow changed things.’ A bitter smile crossed the edges of yellow teeth. ‘And all I got was my brother’s scarf and an eternally bleeding wound the human gave me before I ended up in the save screen.’

Killer wondered if watching his friends and family die on a screen was better than ending up all alone in a dead world.

‘A even longer story short, I lost it while being alone and watching another me and Papyrus dust and again and again. I was desperate to escape. But instead of true escape, I found myself in the anti-void. And that became my new prison for a very long time. So long that that was when I began to lose my memories but by but. I cried and screamed myself hoarse for help. No one ever came.’ Error gestured to the blue lines scored into his bone from the bottom of his sockets to above his teeth and a few that ran down a little further on either side. ‘My tears eventually glitched to become the blue marks here, and the longer I remained in the anti-void, the more I changed to the point my codes did to make me this.’ Error indicated himself. ‘I became this multiverse’s Destroyer; the one who is responsible for removing aus when they begin to collapse and bring danger to the surrounding ones.’

Error stopped moving for a moment which in a way was good, because Killer needed a moment to process before the glitchy monster hit him with another revelation that Killer had already figured he’d hear with the whole ‘destroyer’ thing.

It was quiet for a short time.

“Ni-nightmare-re demanded that-t I re-re-re-move your-r home-me au.” Error said aloud, glitchy and rough. “I wasn’t go-going-ing to but he’s got m-my numb-number-er.” Error grimaced and continued with signing. ‘The last crash I went through hurt so much that I thought Nightmare had somehow managed to dust me, until I rebooted and found the portal I had open to your au was draining me further. I barely managed to unravel and remove the au before Nightmare came back. Even if I had to go into the au myself to find the source code. Seeing a Snowdin similar to mine…it makes me want nothing more than to trap Nightmare within an au in an attempt to take him down within it.’

That sounded like a good idea to Killer.

‘By the time Nightmare checked in on me, your au was gone and my body had only just begun to recover from that tentacled bastard using them to touch me to send me into a hard crash. And you know what he did when he saw the au was gone as demanded?’  Error emitted a humorless static laugh, tone and pitch dhiftong as he spoke in order to convey is aggravation. “He left-eft-t me-e alone. Nightmare-are saw th-that I had d-do-done as ‘asked’ and left-t me alo-alone-ne in my anti-void.” Error laughed again, this time bitterly. “And-d that’s the-the-e shittiest thing-ing-g about t-this, this all. Nightmare will-I’ll actually leave you do w-wh-whatever-ever the fuck you want s-so-so long as you sh-show-ow up the next time-e he calls-s on you.”

Killer wanted to feel anger, over confirmation of finding out who destroyed his au, but at the same time, Killer could sense the violate intent of pure seething rage Error held toward Nightmare. Killer thought he might be upset toward Error, but all Kilker experienced was rage toward Nightmare, who’d ordered someone to do it.

‘Associate’.

Bullshit.

Associate Killer’s nonexistent ass.

Killer had a good idea Error wouldn’t like to.be called that by the guardian so lucky fit the glitch Killer wouldn’t, inability to speak notwithstanding. Error sounded like he could have gone on and on about his grievances toward Nightmare but he actually switched tracks to someone else, signing furiously as if hating the horribly glitchy voice apparently made worse by Nughtnare.

’Dream is so damn firm in his insistence and belief that Nightmare can be made to see reason. That there’s a way they can eventually stop fighting with one another.’ Error shook his skull, scowling in frustration. ‘Dream isn’t naive. He is resolute in the position to take Nightmare done if talking fails, but we’re running out of time and Dream knows it. Nughtnare has to be stopped soon or the negativity will completely overtake this multiverse and bring it collapsing down around us all.’ Error suddenly halted his signing.

Killer froze.

The dungeon cell was becoming…colder.

“Sh-shit.” Error warily looked around then sighed as he muttered. “He’s he-headed-ed this way. Taking-ing his sweet-eet time to make-ake-ke it worse.” A quick twitch if the hands, the signing swift. ‘Nightmare wants me to alter some bits of your code that would make you experience more pain than you are in now due to broken bones.  He wants the pain to be sharp within your soul so that you’ll think before acting out. To avoid being caught by other au inhabitants or those trying to stop Nightmare.’

Killer saw the hesitation and understood, but with all that just told him of Nightmare, Killer doesn’t understand why Error won’t just isn’t make the change. Why go through being tormented when all Error had to do was what nightmare demanded? Killer would fight, still wanted to fight, but then why was the glitch-

The tip of one of Error’s phalange was hovering over the screen when Nightmare appeared from the surrounding shadows.

“Have I not given you ample time to follow through with my request, Destroyer? With your capabilities this should have been simple compared to erasing an entire au.” 

“I-I got to be pre-precis-se-e.” Error wasn’t quie flippant as he grumbled an answer. “If I’m not, he won’t be able-le to even move with-without it hurting-ing-g and-“

“Do it anyway.” Nightmare stated haughtily. “I will have you return at a later time to reverse the changes when Killer has proven he can consistently follow orders.”

Error hesitated.

Killer guessed whatever Error was feeling must not have gone over well with Nightmare, since the guardian’s voice became taut, frigid. “Must I give you another reminder so soon, Destroyer, of who is in charge between the two of us? Shall I go find him and leave a few more marks? Further dash his hope, and show I will not stop? Taunt him, perhaps? Remind him that I am the reason he doesn’t get to see you, even though you could visit, but know the consequences of doing so?”

Killer saw the split second Error decided to ignore his own advice. In an impressive blur of motion, Nightmare and Error launch attacks at one another, temporarily ignoring Killer’s prone broken body on the ground. There were writhing tentacles, extra ones from the darkness around, and thin blue strands of string lashing out in return.

It was over in a matter of seconds, punctuated by a dial tone screech of anger.

From his position on the floor, Killer could see Error tangled up in his own…were they strings? Whatever they were, the strings (?) tangled about his arms, which were held behind his back with a single tendril. Error had gone limp with a furious hissing beeping dial  sound as glitch ripple along his body. He struggled to escape, making it clear without words that Error wasn’t experiencing a pleasant sensation from the tendril around his arms not the one looping around his lower spine.

“…it has been quite a long time since you’ve refused to do as told; longer since you’ve attacked me.” Nightmare’s hands were in his pockets as he studied Killer. “And both these times, and the one in your anti-void were due to this Killer. What is different about this one?” The cyan eye light spared a brief look to Killer before its intensity fell back into Error. “Or perhaps the answer is simpler. Are you finally considering assisting the guardian of positivity?”

Error trembled from the tentacle’s touch, seemingly not hearing Nightmare’s words.

“It matters not. I know you will not assist him with how weak he has become.” Nightmare’s tentacles held taut as he stepped forward and reached out for Error. “He will not be able to protect you from me in his state.” Nightmare held Error level with him, studying the error signs within the sockets cluttering his vision. “Admirable, that you hold back an impending crash. I wonder why that is.” Nightmare used his claws to rip Error’s sweater down the middle, exposing a ribcage and spine covered in scars.

Killer saw Error’s expression when he seemed to realize what was going on and grit out a series of swears that Killer would have laughed at if he didn’t have that weighed down by negativity feeling.

“Why you still believe in that fool is beyond me. He will lose, as will others who defy me, to the negativity that is spreading.”  Nightmare continued on. “And I doubt the other one, the so-called protector, can get out where he is trapped, unless you intervene, Error, and you knows what will happen if you try again.”

Killer lie there, useless on the floor,  when he can see that Error is trembling in anticipation of whatever Nightmare is doing. I killer clenched his jaw when Nightmare made his next move, which was to forcefully tear Error’s soul out, and hold the pitifully small shard of a soul over one hand.

”If you back out of our deal now, then I see no reason to not attempt to corrupt your speck of a soul.” Nightmare ground out with a dangerous growl. “I would have you carry out my orders until you no longer function, as I do not believe that you can fully die without a lot of extra effort. I could always use a decoration that could double as a convenient, non-dustable punching bag.”

A long moment passed as Error stared at Nightmare; likely looking to see if the guardian was bluffing.

Killer could tell it wasn’t a bluff.

”Until that time comes, if at all, you will do as I told you in regards to Killer, when you finish rebooting.” Nightmare carelessly planted his full palm onto Error’s bare ribcage before he slowly, lightly dragged his fingers down before tightly gripping Error’s sternum and part of his ribs to dig in his claws.

Killer winced at the loud screech of pain followed by the weird noise of a computer shutting down, followed by a reboot noise. As he watched, Nightmare let his hand linger for a moment while watching the glitches dance scone the area he’d touched.

A moment longer,Nightmare removed his hand to maneuver Error with his tendrils to deposit the glitch nearby the wall, close to where Killer was lying on the floor.

Error slumped once Nightmare no longer held him, a glitched twitch the only motion when the guardian returned Error’s soul with an impatient flick of his hand.

Killer stared at the floor as a tendril curled beneath his soul. The longer it lingered, the less emotionally numb Killer became. Once finished, Nightmare vanished within the surrounding darkness of the cell with parting words.

“I will be back shortly.”

Killer was left to dwell in his sudden agony and misery while being witness to the eerie sight of Error slumped nearby with a progress bar over his skull as he ‘rebooted’ after Nightmare’s unwanted touch.

Dammit.

Killer was fully aware that Nightmare fucked with his emotions again with that tendril so close to his soul, again forcing the apathy back in order for Killer to have to deal with a  cocktail of emotions that he wasn’t prepared to deal with, nor did he want to feel any of it right now. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any way to avoid it, so Killer lie there and experienced a full range of emotions, mostly negative. Added to this was the depressing soundtrack of dial tone computer-y noises.

Glitches rippled over Error’s body as his reboot status went to 5% and didn’t show much sign of moving any quicker.

Killer stared at the floor some more. He wanted to bristle in indignation and anger. To lash out and deny the obedience Nightmare was trying to force into him.

This right now with Error?

A very unnerving confirmation that Killer wasn’t the only one Nightmare tortured and wore down into working for him without question, any disobedience swiftly dealt with until a favorable response was had.

Shit.

This sucked.

Killer was going to struggle for a long time before he found some way to live around Nightmare without feeling like he was only alive to be used a pawn. That anything else Killer did wouldn’t matter at all in the end, because Killer would be linked to Nightmare whether he was ‘spreading’ negativity in another au. And unlike Error, Killer had nowhere to go when Nightmare didn’t have any more need of him.

By the time Nightmare came back, Killer was emotionally raw but stubborn, and Error’s bar was only at 47%.

As the guardian drew closer to Nightmare in the dark of the dungeon cell, Killer made one last pitiful attempt to get the guardian to kill him, even if Killer was well aware that it was useless.

He wasn’t a fool.

Killer may have played an idiot at times, in the past, occasionally ignorant, but Killer knew that Nightmare intended him as a lackey whether he liked it or not. 

A killing machine.

That was Nightmare’s end goal; for Killer to do his bidding without question or backtalk.

The two stared at one another as Error’s progress bar moved at a slow rate.

“I can tell as before that you will not accept your place here gracefully, so I will ask you this.“ Nightmare’s expression hardened as the teeth sharpened. “The easy way, or the hard way?”

With his broken limbs keeping him inert, and the determination sliding down his sockets a reminder of how he should leave well enough alone, Killer made one last ditch effort to make the guardian dust him. Killer bared his teeth defiantly at Nightmare, managing to form a Gaster Blaster for good measure, the  maw dropping open to fire a beam.

Nightmare evaded before the attack had even gone off, as if the guardian already knew Killer’s response before even he did. Nightmare indifferently watches the blaster shatter from existence when Killer’s magic sputtered and died. The guardian studied Killer like an ant that had done something fascinating if pointless. 

The disregard was a pointed reminder that Nightmare didn’t care about Killer’s physical or mental well-being.

“Hard way it is.” Nightmare eventually stated as his tendrils moved forward to wrap around Killer.

For a wild second, Killer thought the other might pull his limbs off entirely, only for an uncomfortable, very forceful healing to roll over him,  removing any sign of his previously broken bones. Killer had barely any time to react to that before Nightmare snapped the bones, making more pieces dangle by threads of magic. Killer shrieked involuntarily at the flare of pain, unable to comprehend the idea of the agony he was currently in being amplified once Error was forced to alter Killer’s code. Darkness surrounded Killer as Nightmare plunged him into a tormented slumber. The pain followed Killer into unconsciousness, the single cyan eye light lingering on within the night terrors. As if Nightmare was there with Killer, sadistically enjoying the discomfort, pain and agony Killer could keenly feel but unable to wake himself up from.

It seemed unending.

When Killer was finally allowed to wake up; he was a broken mess, literally and figuratively. He was curled up on his side, skull resting on a broken arm.

His entire body was a dull, throbbing ache.

Killer couldn’t roll onto his back to take the more painful ache off his left arm. He supposed it was better to being chained to the dungeon cell wall.

That’d be much more painful.

Killer barely took any breaths at all with the way it hurt to lie on his side like this.  Taking in shallow, hitching breaths, Killer slowly blinked his sockets open, vision blurry a moment before he could see.

Error was seated nearby, gaze distant, his left socket now covered two inch-long cracks at the top and side of it. The two-toned eye light was dim compared to the right, Error’s and jaw set in a pained grimace. His yellow teeth ground so hard together Killer could hear the grinding.

“That sucked.” Killer wheezed into the silence.

Error twitched out of his reverie to turn his full attention to Killer, the glitch’s tone incredulous.

”You-You’re lucky to be a-a-live-ve.”

“Too bad.” Killer slurred. 

“Rest now before he comes back.” Error said, then signed. ‘Nightmare can demand whatever he wants, but I’ll wait until the last second to alter your code. For now, I can make you not feel the pain.’

“Don’t deserve it.” Killer muttered. “Just be turnover with so he won’t be an asshole again and touch you like that.”

“Rest.” Error said in reply, the implied ‘idiot’ left unsaid.

Killer didn’t argue, and true to the glitch’s words, Killer felt no pain as he lie there. His sockets close. If Error figured that Killer needed rest, than he would get whatever he could.

Well that was ominous.

“If-f you f-fa-fall-l asleep, it’s li-likely I’ll be go-gone-ne by the ti-time you wake-ake-ke up.”

“Who’s it for you?” Killer found himself wondering aloud drowsily. 

What could force someone who could destroy an au so easily listen to Nightmare?

What kind of ‘deal’ did they have?

“Two of t-them.” Error quiet, the glitchy was if his voice lessening as his voice softened a tad. “I never should’ve allowed-ed myself to-o care about others but both their-ier persistence to kno-know me paid off. But now they-ey both are paying-ing for my in-in-inability-ity-y to remain defiant against Nightmare. Bastard-ard-d’s unfortunately grown stronger than me, and Dream has grown weaker, like he said. Negativity is growing stronger-er within the multiverse-verse-se as it spreads.”

Silence descended.

There’d been a lot of information said and left unsaid.

Killer half-nodded off with the lessened pain, while Error ended up muttering to himself, the last thing Killer picking up a soft grumbling words.

”Try-y to keep the advice-ice-e from before in mind when dealing-ing with that-t tentacled bastard. Fantasize killing-ing the fucker, but just-ust play alo-along, even if you hate-hate-e it, just so he’ll leave-ave you alone. It’ll help-p, even in-in this shit sit-situation.” Error’s voice became clear of glitches for a brief moment, almost sounding like Killer used to. “Keep as much hope as you can. If Dream and the others are eventually able to turn the tide…karma will come for Nightmare sooner rather than later.”

Chapter Text

Error was correct that he would be gone from the castle by the time Killer finally woke up. The target souled monster had clearly needed the rest and Killer was just lucky he had without experiencing any pain. Because now that he was fully awake?

Utter agony. 

Killer’s bones and magic were all a low dull ache. Any sharp or unexpected motion caused the pain to flare up, driving Killer to lie still to make it stop hurting.

Oh. 

So that was what Nightmare wanted Error do. The glitch hadn’t been kidding that Killer was  going to be in constant pain until Nightmare allowed Error back to undo whatever he’d done to Killer’s code. 

Eh.

It wasn’t like Killer hadn’t experienced slow deaths before, back in his now-gone au. The sharp prickles of pain and low throbbing weren’t new experiences, nor was the tremble of effort that shook Killer’s entire body with sharp hitches of breath.

If this was Nightmare’s new plan to bend Killer to his will, he’ll have to do better.

The low ache and discomfort of magic was something Killer would day be able to get used to. Lying there on his side, trying not to move until he had to, Killer heard the soft footfall that approached him from behind.

Nightmare wouldn’t get a reaction. 

Currently the state of Killer’s body was more of a concern to him than that of the guardian’s approach.

”Get up. I will not have you languishing any further lest you set my plans off track even further with your refusal to listen.” Nightmare obviously didn’t hold any sympathy for the state Killer was in, but that was to be expected by now.

A change of scenery would be welcome. The chill of the dungeon cell made his metaphorical skin crawl.

Killer found that the none too stubble order was difficult to follow give the pain now settled into his entire being; even his soul ached terribly. Belatedly, Killer realized that his bones were no longer broken, meaning that Nightmare had healed him again. Maybe that was why Killer felt a chill inside his bones alongside the dull throbbing aches.

By the time Killer was on his feet and swaying dangerously in an attempt to fight back the light-headedness that came from an influx of agony throughout his body, Killer saw a portal form in front of him. The very sight of the dark, shadowy portal with cyan sparks of magic caused Killer to recoil away from it, only to bump into one of Nightmare’s tendrils which pressed into his spine.

”Enough of that. Step through, now, before I make you.”

Killer went, if only because he couldn’t think of a hood comeback while every unsteady step made him feel like his legs were on fire. 

On the other side of the portal was…

Snowdin.

It was eerily silent, somehow deader than Killer’s lost home.

”I had Error prepare this dead au for the purpose of trading you for your first missions. They will be underground only aus for now, as that will be where you are if most use to me.” Nightmare looped a tendril around Killer’s waist to prevent him from stepping forward. “Until I have time to accompany him you to surface or post-underground surface aus, I will only be sending you to underground au variants .”

Killer stopped trying to step forward and held still, he’ll even if a tiny part of him longed to go to the house that looked like his own and just lie down on the sofa. Maybe picture his brother griping at him to get up or something.

“…I said, are you listening to me?”

”…yes, boss.” Killer answered as he shook off the dim nostalgic yearning. But he proceeded to only half listen as he took in his surroundings to what Nightmare wanted from him.

“Your initial duties in the aus I send you to will be reconnaissance. I am aware that your type of ‘tale verse Sans are very adept at gathering information discreetly.” Nightmare constricted he tendril to force Killer to cant his skull to the side to look at him with empty sockets. “You are not to interact with any resident of the au until I have enough information from you, and am able to ascertain whether or not the particular au is aligned with the guardian of positivity, or if the au is aware they are not alone within the multiverse.”

Killer wanted to argue. He wanted to deny and fight and escape, but before he even spoke a word, the desire to resist fizzled out. Killer remembered Error’s words. Reluctantly, Killer bit back any backtalk and withheld the urge to fight. This sudden shutdown of a usual response toward Nightmare worked in Killer’s favor, because the sudden lockup of his body made him grimace in pain. He went down to one knee at a particularly sharp and burning ache within his soul.

“Hmm…it appears that the pain is a useful tool for teaching you to listen to reason.” Nightmare commented as he watched Killer wheeze through a bout of agony tearing through him.

The pain really wasn’t what was driving Killer’s actions, but he would let Nightmare think that for now. Killer could handle agony burning his body; it was his emotions that Killer would rather do without at present. Nightmare continued on as if not noticing the tremble in Killer’s frame as he got back up to his feet.

“Once I am satisfied of your competency with reconnaissance, I will prepare a list of aus in order of how likely and how quickly reinforcements from outside that au will come. At this point, you will be sent out on test missions to spread negativity by causing chaos and the like.”

“Sounds like a lotta work, boss.” This was all Killer would dare to say convey that he was not thrilled with idea. But when Killer saw the slow turn of Nightmare’s skull to stare at him with a cold, calculating gaze, the target souled monster dropped his sights to the snowy ground.

A tense stand-off ensued.

Killer remained perfectly still, his dark sockets fixed on his shoes, until Killer felt the heavy negativity on his soul lift, and Nightmare spoke as if he hadn’t just cowed Killer into silence just by staring at him.

”Today, will go over the areas to avoid within the underground, while you will confirm with me the best places to gather information that you know of.”

Thus began a week-long hellish crash course in how exactly Nightmare wanted Killer to go about his reconnaissance.

Thankfully, the specifics didn’t take all that long for Killer to get down.

Unfortunately, Killer hated that Nightmare didn’t allow for him to be emotionally numb when out on a ‘mission.’ This meant that when Killer began to go actively go out into aus that were populated, Killer had to which meant when he was actively hide his intent lest someone pick up on it. It wouldn’t do for Killer to be caught and mistake his murderous intent toward Nightmare being aimed at one of the au residents instead. 

Months passed by like this.

Days on end, performing reconnaissance.

It seemed like he’d been working for Nightmare unwilling for much longer. And due to Killer’s revulsion and hatred over being under someone else’s control (when he was allowed to experience emotions, Killer outright refused to explore the castle in those…had it really been three months?

For whatever reason, it displeased Nightmare to continuously find Killer in weird sleeping positions, including; the kitchen counter, the bar stools, the floor, and once, the top of the refrigerator. Three months had apparently been the most Nightmare was willing to let this continue, and the guardian had all but scooped Killer up in his tendrils for an unwanted tour of the castle. 

A large living space past the archway that led to the dining hall that held sofas, chairs, and bookcases.

A stocked room right before the staircase to an upper floor that was meant to be an infirmary.

A room that was passed by that Killer already knew was Nightmare’s office.

The last place Nightmare brought Killer to was a spacious bedroom that had an actual mattress on a sturdy frame, a lamp on the bedside table and even a closet. This was where Nightmaew left Killer, telling him to get rest because he would need it for a fell ‘verse he’d be sending a killer to.

Once alone, Killer checked inside the closet, but when it revealed a variety of clothing, he promptly shut the doors once he’d seen the telltale sign of dust and didn’t want to see which kind of dust it was.

Gross sweaty clothes and beaten up sneakers it was.

Not like Killer cared if he got the determination leaking out of his sockets onto the sheets because he liked to think he was giving Nightmare the middle finger in little ways of rebellion that he could manage by making him retrieve more bed linens. Killer flopped onto the floor, refusing the bed for now, and lazed about down there as he didn’t bother to go down to the kitchen for food.

This lazing about in the mostly empty bedroom without eating eventually came to an end after a week but Killer didn’t know it.

Presently, he stared at a crumbled up calendar that he’d been marking up. Deep shadows were carved beneath Killer’s sockets from lack of sleep as he squinted at the marks.

Three months and two weeks since he’d been in this castle.

As had become the norm the past two weeks, here Killer lie on the bed, unmoving, since Nightmare hadn’t yet come looking for him to demand he do anything.

Killer wasn’t sure how to feel right now.

Yesterday, Nightmare mostly drained him to the emotionlessly numb state due to a slip up on a mission where Killer had almost been seen by a Papyrus.

With a jerky motion of hands that didn’t feel like his own, Killer coaxed his exposed soul closer to hover over bony palms.  He stared at the culmination of his being glowing in a bright red ringed circles. Killer stared at his soul with an expression void of any true emotions.

Huh.

What a pathetic soul he had.

How useless was he, to be in this state?

Lost in staring at his soul, unwavering and solid, Killer’s empty gaze fell on to the sealed over crack across part of it, marring its surface if one looked closely enough.

Pathetic.

Useless.

He shouldn’t have survived that crack.

His soul shouldn’t have survived the determination and Chara’s influence lingering in it with the red color either.

Killer wasn’t certain how long he stared at the pathetic soul over his hands. Didn’t notice the twitching of his phalanges, as if they were trying to will themselves up to end things for him.

It would be so easy, and also a huge ‘fuck you’ to Nightmare if he found a pile of dust on the bed.

Killer doesn’t move, unable to properly register the distant regret and resignation that he wouldn’t dust himself, even while this emotionally distant. He didn’t even know why he was back in this room, though Killer believed it was due to disobeying something Nightmare had demanded of him. Or maybe he had obeyed, Nightmare had just deposited his unresponsive coccyx through a portal onto this bed.

Killer can’t recall.

It didn’t matter either way.

Trapped.

He was trapped.

But Killer couldn’t care about that fact because he didn’t feel anything but emptiness. Killer might have stayed lying on his back, staring up at his closed-off soul in cupped hands.

Nightmare walked into the bedroom through the open door.

Killer’s skull raised up a fraction from his lying down position as he absently let his soul float back over his chest. He didn’t say anything as he blinked at Nightmare, and as much as his emotions were absent, Killer was able to read faces.

Nightmare was displeased and baffled.

Killer stared at the guardian until the latter finally spoke.

“I do not understand why you act in this manner.” Nightmare indicated the way Killer lie on the bed. “Should you not be grateful to be out of your dead universe? To be able to serve a greater purpose?” The cyan eye light roved over Killer as if expecting to find an answer. “Do you actually want to die?”

Killer said nothing.

“I will not allow it.” Nightmare bared his teeth. “As stated before, if you have forgotten, it is very difficult to locate and retain someone useful who won’t descend into madness when close to a source of negativity.”

A plate of food appeared on the bed alongside Killer while a drink appeared on the bedside table.

“Eat. You have not had anything this week.”

Killer considered the pros and cons of refusing to eat, but with the chill in the room growing to an uncomfortable degree and Nightmare looking prepared to force him to eat.

He ate the fucking food.

Picked up the plate and downed the bland food since apparently Nughtmare didn’t have to eat if this was the best he could make. Killer didn’t want to but he did know that he didn’t want to be force-fed on top of struggled to figure out what to do while not experiencing emotions. 

This delivery of meals by Nightmare continued for a week.

By the end of it, Killer began to just go to the kitchen after a mission was complete. At least that way, he could choose how much or little he ate. When Killer began to regularly eat his meals, Nightmare stopped appearing with shitty boring food and drink to insist he eat and forcing it upon Killer if he refused. 

Nightmare had not looked after Killer out of kindness. The guardian just wanted Killer to be able to function to carry out his duties.

And as with the food, Killer was perfectly aware on some level that he was being manipulated, especially once Nightmare had succeeded in getting him to retrieve his own meals.

That manipulation included rewards and punishments, depending on Killer’s responses toward Nightmare.

Any overly sarcastic defiance, stubbornness or flippant behavior that managed to break free from Killer depending on his ability to feel emotions any given day were dealt with swiftly and at times violently.

Defiance oftentimes resulted in broken bones.

Being stubborn over missions or being flippant toward the specifics resulted Killer having horribly realistic night terrors when asleep or even extra aus added onto Killer’s day and not being allowed to return until he gathered information.

Rewards only occurred when Killer obeyed Nightmare and didn’t try any clever backtalk. Those rewards included being left alone, free use of a kitchen outside of meal times (aka sleep in), an array of weapons to choose from (if killer wanted them) and the bedroom Killer had been sleeping in being officially ‘his’.

Killer occasionally was helplessly frustrated when he was able to really think about this shit situation because dammit, Error had been right about Nightmare.

Once you did as her asked, he’d leave you alone until the next time.

The unfairness was infuriating.

Killer chafed at how trapped he was, despite being left alone most of the time. Sometimes, Killer couldn’t stand the silence or the knowledge that he couldn’t escape, often lashing out with attacks at random in the castle.

He was powerless here.

No matter what Killer did, he was forced to go along with Nightmare whims. Having the goopy bastard leave him alone was, at best, a shitty consolation prize. 

It was stifling, being trapped in the castle, and knowing that, even if Nightmare wasn’t in view, it wouldn’t take much for the guardian to appear wherever Killer was in the castle.

There was no escape.

Nightmare would always find him, even if Killer attempted to hide.

Over the next few weeks, Killer made it a point to figure out how to escape feeling the lingering effects of Nightmare’s aura when he was in a room closer to Killer in the castle. 

The frustrating answer?

All Killer had to do was pretend that everything was fine, and act differently while he gave his reports to Nightmare. If Killer only gave the guardian a bit of note to his words, Nightmare appeared to be placated. Perhaps because Killer wasn’t acting like an emotionless husk? Like Nightmare thought Killer was finally accepting his roll that he was ‘comfortable’ to make stupid jokes and puns around Nightmare while making sure he didn’t toss any unnecessary info into his ‘report’ of an au he’d gone to.

Killer presumed that he was allowed to ‘act out’ in the castle when he couldn’t stand what he was becoming, so long as he didn’t do any direct disobeying of Nightmare’s orders when it came to the aus.

There was some confirmation of this.

Killer had deduced that, while Nightmare wanted a killing machine if au residents got to he too rosy when Killer went from reconnaissance to actual disrupting others lives to spread negativity, Nightmare did not want a simple mindless puppet. 

A knife thudded into a practice dummy in a room Killer used to let loose when he felt particularly stabby toward Nightmare. 

Black ichor spilled from Killer’s sockets as he gave a hideously wide grin at the dummy as if it were Nightmare he’d just stabbed.

Asshole.

Not only did Nightmare want Killer to attack when ordered to, but the guardian also wanted him to be able to disarm others with false charm to get more info when needed in certain au variants.

Killer would hate this if he could but lately, Nightmare was allowing him to feel less and less emotion while on missions. But to be a bastard, Nightmare would let Killer experience a little of the hurt as it seeped back into his target soul, as if daring Killer to try to defy him.

Somewhere along the way, Killer noticed that he had been working through the constant aches and pains his body was forced to feel until one morning, Killer woke up to feel a little less dead inside.

Error must have fixed his code.

…Nightmare hadn’t been allowed Killer to see the other skeleton monster.

Alone.

All alone.

Killer pressed his playful taunts toward Nightmare as far as he dared, to mask just how desperately Killer wanted to stab Nightmare over and over through his goop-covered body. But Killer didn’t press too far, lest Nightmare catch on that the ‘Killer’ he was presenting to the guardian was all an act. Killer was aware there was only so far his play acting could go before Nightmare realized it was a mask to placate him into thinking Killer had accepted his place.

That mask would get torn down in a soul-beat if Nightmare had any idea that Killer also used it to further protect that small speck of hope buried deep within his soul. As Killer went on missions, he desperately hoped Nightmare would never find that out.

Funnily enough, when Nightmare did pick up on something not quite right, the guardian of negativity interpreted the problem much differently than Killer expected him to.

Chapter Text

There were a few times over the next few weeks where Killer had been certain that Nightmare picked up on his facade.

But nothing happened.

Just missions, or being tossed through the air into a wall if he displeased the guardian.

Today was the day Killer thought, for one wild moment, that Nightmare was about to call him on his bluff. To tear the flimsy mask down that Killer had been using to protect himself by pretending to be resigned to his place in Nightmare’s plans.

But no. 

Somehow, the guardian of negativity decided today to believe that the cause for Killer’s increased attacks around the castle in the aftermath of missions was for another reason entirely.

Early morning was the same as it was most days. 

Wake up hating himself?

Check, since Nightmare allowed Killer to be able to feel his emotions on the mission yesterday and had yet to mute them.

Wanting to dust Nighrmare?

Check.

Being unable to control his life, or make his own choices?

Check, double check.

That morning, Killer left his bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks. Sometimes, it was the little things that unexpectedly set him off. Seeing the castle walls and not his au home’s walls? That was more than enough for him that morning.

Killer screamed wordlessly in helpless frustration as he lashed out at nothing in particular.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he was the one trapped.

Why couldn’t Nightmare have gone after some other Killer?

Why him?

Why?!

Killer fired off Gaster Blasters in rapid succession on the second floor of the castle, burning through magic as he uselessly raged against something he had no power to change. But instead of Nightmare just allowing Killer to exhaust himself of his magic as per usual, something else happened.

“Enough.” The guardian snapped with a raised voice as he flung his office door open.

Killer increased the intensity of his attacks but not at the guardian, because he knew how poorly that decision would go. But he didn’t miss the opportunity to let some attacks ‘miss’ his supposed targets to end up going in Nightmare’s direction for plausible deniability later.

The guardian of negativity evaded Killer’s attacks with infuriating east, and wasted no time pinioning limbs with tentacles.

Killer’s ribcage rose and fell from exertion but he prevented himself from trying to skewer the other with a flurry of bones.

“This ends today.” Nightmare coldly grit out as the cyan eye light fixed on Killer. “I tire of this tantrum of yours nearly every day return to the castle.”

Killer struggled to kick the tendrils away from his arms and legs, but was forced to go inert when they constricted. His ribcage continued to heave as Killer’s soul pulsed wildly over it.

“I will send you to a post-pacifist underground surface au. It is off the radar of others and this au is not aware of the multiverse yet. While there, you are to keep your hood up when you enter any building. Only behind closed doors will you take it off, if need be.” Nightmare half-turned to open a portal. “Find someone you find palatable and engage in sex with them until you get all of this extra magical energy out of your system. I do not care to continue fixing this place over and over after such outbursts of unnecessary destruction.”

Killer wasn’t certain whether he should be amused or insulted that Nightmare thought he needed to release pent up energy aka rage by fucking. He really wasn’t interested, especially with a stranger, and by the mere fact that his soul was exposed.

“I will allow you until tomorrow morning to remedy this issue.”

Killer would have to trust someone a lot to be vulnerable around them. Plus, Killer wasn’t one of those Sans that could summon ecto on command. It would take a lot more magic and at best Killer could maybe make something like a cock or just a random hole for another monster.

His soul was definitely out of the question.

Killer wasn’t too keen on finding out what sex with the soul would do to him or another monster.

”Are you listening to me?”

”Yes, boss.” Killer drawled automatically, thinking he would not have any time to test anything out with his body anyway. It wasn’t like he had any experience or much of it in his Underground. At that point in time Killer had been more concerned with surviving and then later attempting to retain his sanity once the resets began.

Going to an au to to ‘take care of his outbursts’ wasn’t going to amount to anything.

Killer knew this.

Nightmare certainly did, and the guardian wouldn’t have given a damn anyway. As far as Nightmare was concerned, what he thought Killer needed was correct. But he couldn’t be further from the truth. Nightmare didn’t know what Killer truly needed, and it was just as well that he didn’t know that the was off the mark and that the empty socketed monster was not content with the role that had been forced onto him. 

“Return to the point you emerge from the portal when you sense my magic tomorrow.”

Killer honestly hadn’t expected Nightmare to simply toss him through the formed portal via a tendrils.

“You will have five minutes to reach it from wherever you end up.” Nightmare’s voice took on an unamused growl. “If you do not, I will come collect you myself, clothes or not, and in that state you will go on another mission.” 

The portal snapped closed.

Killer lie sprawled out in the snow unceremoniously. He stayed like that, wondering idly if he was in Snowdin, only to hear a lot of chattering nearby. He warily sat up, brushing snow off his jacket while taking a look around.

Heh.

Right.

A post-pacifist Underground surface au.

Lucky bastards.

From where he was seated, there were a lot of lights strung up everywhere and there were wreathes as well, and some trees that looked like Gyftmas trees. Humans and monsters alike walked back and forth outside the line of stores that went in either direction. But there was a large space between the building Killer was left near. When Killer stood up, the empty sockets scrunched up with exasperated  amusement when he realized what he was looking at.

The front of the building revealed it to some kinda club with exotic dancers.

…was Nightmare even aware that this is not where one went to have sex? What the hell did the guardian take him for? Whenever did Killer do to give off the impression he was ever interested in sex? Apart from releasing magic in anger which did not mean he wanted sex.

Welp.

Here he was.

Standing outside a club in some unfamiliar au, with people on the sidewalk catching a glimpse of him and walking faster or pausing to stare.

…it was probably better to not draw attention to himself, so what the hell.

Killer lazily stretched and got to his feet, stuffing his hands into pockets as he walked toward the building. He figured he may as well get drunk and pass out somewhere near where Nightmare’s portal was likely to reappear. And as luck would have it, Killer happened to have the forged ID provided by Nightmare on him that allowed Killer entry into the club.

And well, well, well, wasn’t that interesting?

The club was run by the AU’s Grillby, dressed in a bit revealing of an outfit, but it didn’t matter so much since the guy was made out of red-orange-pink flames.

It was easy enough for Killer to imagine this Grillby as his own which made ordering the drink easier. And the gold coins upfront Killer paid the fiery monster with made asking for refills to be delivered to his table easy. He even got a hilarious little pole with a flag at the top with a number. There was even a nondescript silhouette of a monster frozen in a dance to let the severs around know to check in with him key and again for those refills.

With ice cubes clinking too cheerily into the glass he held in hand, Killer took a quick look around for the best place to hunker down. Finding it, Killer easily weaved past others to the left side of the large sprawling room, walking down some stairs to go to a chair and small table in the very corner. When Killer sat down, he found himself directly facing multiple stages. This angle gave him a very good view, while allowing the target souled monster the ability able to keep an eye out for any trouble headed his way.

Nightmare may be some powerful corrupted monstrosity but he really didn’t have any idea what someone more ‘mortal’ like Killer needed.

It certainly wasn’t sex.

Killer had no desire to have some random monster in bed with him for a meaningless fuck.

However.

Killer certainly didn’t mind getting a show of attractive dancers. A bonus was being able to relax without Nightmare around. Already Killer could feel the tense hold of his shoulders drop.

It was a relief that wouldn’t last for long but around a day was better than nothing.

Killer tipped the edge of the glass to his teeth. The alcohol burned as it mixed with his magic.

Damn.

Killer parted his teeth to allowed more of the drink to go down. Black ichor slowed its descent down from his sockets.

The burn lingered.

Killer sighed as he leaned back in the chair.

The drink was good and strong.

It wouldn’t take much to get him drunk with how potent the beverages were.

The lights dimmed, more lighting up the stage as music began to thump and reverberate through the speakers.

With vague interest, Killer raised his skull to watch the stage as dancers preformed, both human and monster.

Some just danced.

Others flirted and teased first.

There were a few that performed in pairs.

Whenever his glass neared empty, Killer would flag down a server for another. In short order, the target souled monster had a new drink.

Several times.

Killer picked up his latest drink as he continued to absently watch the stage.

The lights dimmed further than before.

A low murmur that soon became cheering and loud heckling drew Killer out of the slowly forming stupor he’d been falling into. Because of that, Killer paid full attention to the stage as he drinks beverage number who the hell knew what.

“Gee, this sure is a big crowd.” A lilting voice commented. “Don’t you all have something better to do this eventing?” A pause. “Or rather, someone?”

Laughter rippled around the crowd as the speaker revealed themselves on stage as a bony hand grasped one of the poles, jutting a hip out to one side while bracing with one of the heels of the knee high boots. The boots had to have at least 4-inch heels on them, if not more.

But that wasn’t the important part.

The owner of those boots was.

Killer didn’t hear the following bad sex jokes and flirty ones that had the crowd roaring with laughter along with quite a few lewd responses from said crowd that were tossed back in their face by the speaker with a whiplash retort.

By a Sans.

A Sans.

There was a Sans on stage who was currently being heckled with increasingly sexual innuendos and disgusting offers to fuck a hole for him.

”Heyyyy Allure! You available for a good time tonight?”

”Allure!”

”Where’re the tits this evening, Sansy?!”

Killer was beginning to feel tipsier than before, distracted by the Sans’ (apparently nicknamed Allure) appearance on stage.

Another version of himself.

What the hell were the odds that Killer could go into a building where this au’s Sans would be?

The Sans in question might be a couple inches taller than without the heels. As the Sans…as Allure walked across the stage, his outfit became clearer, though still hard for Killer to perfectly pick out any details with the shifting lights overhead.

Killer’s sight could also just be shit at this point with all the alcohol he’d ingested thus far. 

As Allure turned to the right, his black knee high boots showed off the fact that he wore tight, tight leather black pants tucked into them, the skeleton’s backside hidden by his knee length sleeveless coat.

Allure finished his bit while shooting down one night stands and threesomes before he began to dance with graceful motions. Killer watched, mesmerized, as he vaguely supposed that if he had the inclination, he could dance too. After all, Killer was nimble on his feet while dodging attacks. He wasn’t exactly sure what to feel when Killer saw cyan ecto when Allure expertly slid out of his long hooded sleeveless coat jacket and flicked it with a wrist over to the Grillby at the bar. Without the jacket, Allure’s glowing cyan color was revealed along with what he wore beneath. 

The crop top held a heart shape cut into it, which displayed Allure’s ecto as the fabric hugged around most of his ribcage, showing off a peek of sternum and a couple of ribs that cyan magic was currently formed from the chest down. Over each hand were teal colored gloves that went all the way to the elbows.

Killer could see that those black leather pants were sinfully tight around the ecto in all the right places, and especially at the waist while the fabric dug into Allure’s bones the further down his legs until it tucked into knee high boots. Killer hadn’t been mistaken about the inches of heel but Allure used the boot’s heels to pivot expertly across different levels of the stages with ease.

Cyan should have been a fear response for Killer, since that was the color of  Nightmare’s magic.

But not with this cyan.

Allure’s vibrancy and mood while lost within dancing around the stage and occasionally pressing close to poles dotted across the stages…

Killer couldn’t help but appreciate the very alive thrum of cyan magic.

All too soon, with the way Killer so closely watched the ecto shimmer, and the intensity of concentration of the movement, the other Sans finished his dance with a flourishing bow.

“And that’s all for tonight! Here’s a kiss ‘sans’ lips to tide you over until the show tomorrow!” Allure brought a few fingers of a hand up to press to his teeth then flicked it away in a ridiculously overdone kiss to the crowd, all of whom laughed.

The angle the other Sans had done the ‘kiss’ gave Killer a good glimpse of that sultry look on Allure’s face, but beneath that facade, a sad, haunted and resigned expression lay hidden beneath.

What.

Killer blinked as he moved out from his slouch, scolding himself for so being so lost in the moment he’d stopped paying attention to those around him. Thankfully, no one had approached him, seemingly unconcerned by the weirdo in the hooded jacket with an exposed soul drinking his misery away. Allure had vanished from stage by the time Killer looked back. If he hadn’t just been watching him moments before, Killer could have sworn that he’d imagined it all.

Welp.

That sure had been something all right.

Sighing, Killer finished his drink and drained another soon after, getting well and truly sloshed so he could have even a fraction of peace without worrying about what Nightmare had planned for him upon his return.

Time passed.

Music, dancing and chatter continued on.

It was a surprisingly relaxing time, despite feeling the music reverberate in his bones. Killer toyed with the idea to keep on drinking until he finally passed out. He’d take his chances with the occupants of this au. Maybe Killer would get lucky and they’d dust him. As Killer reached out for his glass, his bony fingers close on thin air.

What?

Killer blinked and tried again.

Nothing there.

Huh.

Someone stood on the other side of the table and the clink of glass being set onto the coaster was heard.

Oh.

He must’ve flagged someone down.

Killer reached out to clumsily hold the glass drew it toward him, awkwardly lifting it aloft as he clacked the glass to teeth.

No expected burn.

Just a cool sensation mixing into his magic.

Killer drew the glass back as he blinked his sockets a few times before focusing on the beverage.

It wasn’t alcohol.

It was water.

“Grillbz says he’s cutting you off.” A voice said. It was echo of Killer’s own, but more upbeat if strained and worn out, and not just from all the dancing. “It’s close to closing time. He doesn’t want to take any chances of a fight breaking out.”

That voice…

Despite only briefly hearing it, so lost in thought as he’d been, Killer knew that this was the Sans of this alternate universe.

Allure.

He’d not left the club after leaving the stage.

Killer lifted his head up but kept his skull hidden within the shadow of his hood to study the other Sans.

Allure was back to wearing that knee length dark teal jacket, the soft purple trim fluffy as it longed the the collar (and hood) where the fluff went all the way down along to hide the zippers. The purple fluff even went around the sleeveless areas. Cyan thread was woven many times over through the heart cut-out of the crop top to make the cyan magic beneath pop.

The clothes all looked incredibly soft to the touch.

“Yup. He definitely made the right call.” A hum of genuine concern. “You okay there, buddy? Normally I don’t mind being checked out, but it’s kinda hard to do that just by staring at my chest. I know some monsters are disappointed that my magic color is back to cyan but you seem to like it just fine.”

Killer gulped down some water, slopping some on himself as he looked away while the Sans let out a soft huff of laughter.

Nope.

Killer wasn’t sober enough to speak without giving himself away. While trying to figure out what to do, Killer glanced at the other Sans’ face.

Ah.

There it was.

Killer could all but read the tension in the other Sans’ face. Killer had a good idea he was about to be asked to leave. Killer finished the glass of water and pushed himself away from the table, causing Allure to tense up, as if expecting trouble. Killer stretched out his arms with a sigh before stuffing his hands in jacket pockets again.

No one other than probably Grillby paid them any mind.

“…still owe any g?” Killer pitched his voice low and quiet.

“Nah. You’re good.” Allure was tensed as if ready for a fight even if his voice was laidback.

Killer dipped his head in a nod before shuffling toward the doors and outside, not looking back to see if the other Sans was going to follow him to be certain he didn’t cause trouble near the club.

Once outside, Killer realized it had gotten very late.

The club had been a nice reprieve.

In a drunken haze, Killer decided to not wait in the cold snow near where Nightmare would be ready to ‘collect’ him and instead stumbled down the empty sidewalk to go down an alleyway.

There were two dumpsters.

Eh.

Killer wasn’t picky about where he waited, so he plonked his drunken bony ass into the snow between the dumpsters, and leaned his skull back into the brick wall, hood providing little comfort as his sockets closed. Killer kept his hands in his pockets. Maybe surface snow would affect him more than the underground’s?

Time passed sluggishly compared to the warmth and chatter in the club.

Killer almost dozed off when he heard footsteps cautiously approaching him, the crunch of snow loud in the otherwise quiet alley.

“You know, for the amount of G you spent, I’d have thought you’d live nearby.”

The other Sans.

“Nah. Not from here.” True enough. And Killer was sure that Allure was at least curious now that he was speaking to a skeleton monster that wasn’t him or hysterical brother (or Gaster, if he was in this au).

“You just come in?”

“Something like that. Unexpected and all.” Killer hesitated then added, in a slurred growl. “Boss is a piece of shit.”

“So you moved for work?” Allure kept the line of questioning light but he was obviously digging for intel.

“Not liking these lines of question.” Killer called the other Sans out on his plan before causally glancing up.

Allure was bundled up in winter clothing now and his cyan eye lights were fixed on Killer’s soul.

Was that…concern?

“Even if your boss is an asshole, why would you want to be outside when your…soul is out like that?” Allure quickly averted his gaze to try and peer beneath Killer’s hood instead. “Aren’t you more vulnerable to the cold that way?”

“I don’t know. Never had the chance to test it out before.” Killer shrugged and sagged back into the alley wall. “Don’t really care at this point. Waiting here isn’t any different than anywhere else.” Killer wasn’t sure why Allure remained and said as much. “You don’t gotta hang around. You can leave me here.” Killer’s voice dropped low, a murmur escaping him. “S’not like it matters what I do with my life anymore. This is a good a place as any to rest.” The word ‘rest’ came out bleaker and more final than Killer intended it too.

Allure’s alarm came in the form of a sharp intake of air.

If Killer thought the other Sans was leaving, he was poorly mistaken.

Damn all the tale ‘verse Sans and their ability to actually give a tiny fuck over a matter of shared depressive misery of another version of themselves.

Allure’s footfall came closer.

When Killer finally looked up at the other monster, he found Allure crouching in front of him.

“You’re a skeleton monster.”

A statement.

Killer moved a hand out of his pocket to waggle fingers at the other.

“I thought my brother and I were the only ones left.” Curiosity. “Are there…skeleton monsters who hadn’t been sealed underground?”

“Nah.” Killer could lie, but he doesn’t because dammit, there’s hope on the other Sans’ face. It ducked and it sucked that Killer had to be the bearer of bad news and informer of multiverse bullshit. “But you won’t believe a total stranger.”

“How are you do sure about that?” Allure wondered, fastidiously brushing snow off a gloved hand.

“Because a lot of others didn’t.” Killer tossed caution to the wind. “I can show you.”

“No tricks.” Allure said, his eye lights wary as one hand briefly twisted in his thick cyan winter coat.

“No tricks.” Killer agreed. “Just crazy science bullshit.” At that, he reached up to flick his hood back and grinned tiredly at the shocked empty sockets that stared back at him. “Shit’s crazy, huh?” Killer waved a hand at Allure. “Would’ve been nice to be a Sans that wasn’t five foot nothing. How the hell do we share a similar frame but your two or three inches of height makes you look better in those pants. Hell even your winter pants don’t hang off ya like mine can. No pants could fix this disaster of a body.” Killer wobbly waved his hands in the wrong direction of his pants. “Too many broken bones and shit an’ no ecto ta use fer holdin’ shit up without a belt. S’why shorts’re the best.”

Slurring and tumbling over his words, Killer continued on and on nonsensically until he passed out cold.

~

“The multiple universe theory is true…” Allure mumbled to himself as the other skeleton monster devolved into nonsensical mumbling. “I was headed in the right direction.” Allure’s expression hardened for a moment as he looked off to the side. “Those jackasses. Cutting off my funding before I could finish my thesis because some scorned monsters wanted me to themselves as a cheap lay even after they all learned that I and the others affected by those heats didn’t have them naturally. Or the ability to say no when so lost to instincts forced on them through an experiment gone wrong.”

The other Sans’ rambling became more unintelligible.

”Years of actual effort that I put into something after being apathetic for so long ruined forever because of some horny bastards.” Allure clenched a fist into his long winter coat. “So much so that I had to come back to Grillbz club to get any work at all and what do I have to deal with? Those same horny bastards showing up and acting like it’s where I belong, but it’s not enough since they can’t even touch me. It’s never enough to watch me. Never. They want me to go to elsewhere, to some…some…” Allure breathed out a frustrated noise, not having meant to say that all aloud.

The other skeleton monster didn’t respond nor continue his drunken rambling.

Allure looked down at a near mirror image of himself, only to find the other Sans snoring passed out cold.

Huh.

After making certain that no one was looking into the alley (like those fucking horny jackasses) Allure crouched down near the other him and shortcut both of them to his house.

Some might call Allure crazy or reckless for doing this. Some might wonder why he’d put himself into such danger.

Allure wouldn’t have been able to provide a good reason for doing so without it being too personal but…he’d seen the expression in the other Sans’ sockets before.

They were like Allure’s own back then, during a darker time when he’d had been ready to end his own life when the heat he’d been unintentionally saddled with had become too much to bear. Back then, there didn’t seem to be any way out but death as he slowly lost control over his life to an accident that had ruined so many others lives before it was finally reversed.

Allure told himself that, despite what others thought of him, he wouldn’t turn away from someone who wasn’t a similar state. Funny that it was another version of himself that Allure would actually give a damn about.

~

Killer hadn’t meant to actually pass out but in an interesting turn of events, he was not dead.

Shame.

He’s woken up but at least he was somewhere warm versus the cold, lifeless castle.

The downside to waking up after all that alcohol was his magic still had too much of it but yet processed, which meant a massive headache within the magic around his skull.

The sensation made him nauseous.

Killer all but fell out if the bed, over to a small connected bathroom to heave out magic mixed with all the alcohol he’d consumed over a toilet with its lid open. After a few dry heaves to ensure it was out, Killer shakily sat back on his bony feet to find a note on the floor. He scanned it over, understanding the chicken scratch over the paper.

There were pain killers and a glass of water on the sink, and within the note there was an indication that Killer would feel better if he took a shower.

Okay…

Where the hell was he?

Killer downs the pills with the water despite the magic doing just fine to dissolve the pills without the drink before he discarded his clothes, dimly noting that his shoes, socks and jacket are missing. Killer stopped carefully to retrieve the note, doing his best to not fall over. In clear perfect writing beneath the chicken scratch written in the same hand informed Killer that his socks were disgusting, while his shoes and jacket were in dire need of a good scrubbing.

He’d not noticed.

Funny.

How funny and sad was it that Allure (it had to be the other Sans’ that had brought him wherever this was) had removed his shoes and socks cause Killer passed out in an alleyway. Killer took a steadying breath then headed for the shower. He didn’t allow himself warmth, and the cold water helped him sober up the rest of the way as the pain killers did their work.

There’s even a fresh towel that smells of aster for him to use.

Killer also finds an almost exact match to his clothes on the toilet lid. He considered them. Killer hadn’t worn a white T-shirt since he was alone in his dead au. The shorts are black with white stripes.

Nostalgic.

What the hell. 

Killer put the clothes on and damn were they softer than any of the clothes he’d even owned. The smell of aster clung to the clean clothing as well.

…he should leave.

Killer shouldn’t be here. He should wait elsewhere for Nightmare to retrieve him, since a killer doubted he had much time left to linger in this au. There was no sense sticking around. Killer could get his jacket and shoes, since he had a feeling his socks were likely in the trash. Wet clothing or not, Killer could then leave this house because he shouldn’t allow himself to interact with-

There was a light knock on the door.

Killer stared at it and made a split second decision. 

He opened the door.

Killer lifted his empty gaze a couple of inches to meet the sad cyan eye lights staring right back at him.

“…your jacket needs time to dry.” Allure said awkwardly. He fell silent a moment, then crossed his arms over his rather thin, rather revealing bathrobe that was soft and fluffy around the collar, cuffs, and down the center of the open robe that revealed a lot of cyan echo. And was that…another crop top and really short shorts underneath?

Killer wonder why the other Sans hadn’t dismissed the echo yet with how much magic that took to maintain. 

“Would you like some breakfast?” Allure’s question drew Killer’s gaze back.

“Nah, I think I’m good.” The other’s words confirmed to Killer that he’d been out for hours. “You didn’t seem too keen on me being in the club last night” Killer tried to stick hands in pockets but brushed soft fabric instead. “Don’t think you’d want some strange doppelgänger in your place.” Killer let Allure study his face; likely he saw the way the determination begins to trail out of his sockets, and the deep sleepless nights carved beneath Killer’s sockets.

“Grillby and I were…concerned about alcohol and LV mixing that late at night.” Allure gave Killer a hard searching look, a tingle of a check barely discernible. “Passing out after implying you’d be fine crumbling to dust alone in an alleyway.” Allure gave a rather elegant shrug for a body shape closer to Killer’s. “Something tells me there’s more to your LV than just dusting monsters or humans for fun. Then there’s the matter of your check…”

”It mention anything interesting?” Killer asked with feigned interest that he saw Allure give him a narrow socketed look. Killer had checked Allure the moment he opened the door and would pretend he didn’t see the genuine concern for him. He didn’t deserve it.

”Something to the effect that you’re not worth giving food to?” Allure’s arms uncrossed and seemed to move absently to press to his hips to frown at Killer. “Even though your low magic level clearly indicates you’ve not been replenishing it.”

“Heh. Caught me.” Killer relaxed against the doorframe, but mainly to hold himself up as he offered his left hand. “Killer.”

Allure appraised the hand before he reached out to grasp it.

Loud fart sounds rang out in unison.

Allure froze.

Killer’s grin hitched up.

The stunned silence ended when Allure dissolved into snorting laughter that was quite different than the lighter laughs in the club. 

“See?” Killer thought the other Sans’ laugh sounded more genuine. “Most of us Sans know how to greet a new pal.”

Allure let out a wheeze, his shoulders shaking before he calmed himself and sighed wistfully. “It’s been too long since I did that last. Brings back the good memories.”

”You sure you want me around for breakfast?” Killer asked, addressing the unasked question in Allure’s previous comment about low magic.

“Sure.” Allure’s laughter trailed off as his expression turned mischievous, sockets scrunching up. “But you’ll have to let go of my hand first.”

Killer let go with an unintelligible noise.

Allure grinned at that before he spun on his heel as he sashayed his way down the hallway, his bare bony feet clicking onto hardwood floors. He didn’t seem to notice the way he was swaying his hips to some unheard music.

Killer stared down at his hand after putting the whoopee cushion away. Allure’s grip had been hold firm but careful, even as he used his own whoopee cushion as well. When Killer looked up, he saw Allure had glanced over his should to fix him with a curious looking, standing by the stairs.

”Coming?” The other Sans asked.

“Sure.” Killer wasn’t quite up to par to mentally to figure out what the relieved smile was for on the others face.

Allure bounced down the stairs with an energy that appeared happier than before.

Killer followed, but was now curious about what kind of au he had been sent to apart from a post-pacifist surface au.

Classic tale adjacent.

Not a fell ‘verse.

Allures build being similar to Killer’s own but a few inches taller, but not from a swap au.

So…a tale ‘verse with a different turn than his own, that ended in a post pacifist surface au?

“Pancakes or waffles?” Allure asked as he peered into a cupboard.

“Whichever you like.” Killer replied as he slunk into the kitchen.

“Help yourself to the coffee.” Allure hummed as he got to work putting ingredients together. “I have the pot set at night before I go to sleep so I can have fresh brew right away.” Allure waved a hand in that direction.

But the motion drew Killer’s attention, because Allure wasn’t wearing any elbow length gloves. The bare bones poked out from under the fluffy sleeves of the bathrobe; there were what appeared to be marks of handcuffs over and below metacarpals as well as cracks and nicks in the visible on the ulna and radius.

Allure seemed to sense Killer’s attention  and slowed on mixing the batter together in a bowl. Allure almost seemed to hunch in on himself, as if awaiting judgement.

“Where are the mugs?” Killer took note of the rather specific looking pattern of injuries on the ulna and radius but didn’t remark on them. 

The relief from the other Sans was palpable.

“Cupboard to the right of the coffee pot.” Allure turned back to the bowl. “Lower shelf.”

“These clothes are comfier than mine.” Killer said as he went to get some coffee.

“I like soft fabrics. It feels much better on the bones as well as the ecto.” Allure took to the topic gratefully as he took a griddle out to make pancakes while continuing to wear the revealing fluffy cyan robe.

“Do you gotta worry about that fabric catching fire?” Killer wondered when he saw Allure arranging the bowl and plates near the stovetop. 

“Sure, that could be a concern.” Allure half turned to assess Killer. “Better not take any chances with that.” Allure steps back and takes off the robe off with unnecessary yet automatic flourish, leaving him in a crop top and tight, tight shorts that hugged the ecto tight. Allure seemed to realize that as his eye lights reflected wariness as he hugged the robe. “I can change if this outfit is too revealing and-“

”S’fine.” Killer did a quick once over at all the false cyan flesh before he met Allure’s gaze and rolled a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Doesn’t bother me. ‘sides, this is your house. Dress however you want.”

Allure cooked the pancakes in silence but instead of making it for both of them, the first couple of pancakes were given to Killer with syrup, butter and berries. The other Sans seemed to watch almost anxiously as Killer took a bite, only to jump with surprise when the target soul flared with a brighter red brilliance.

“Holy shit!” Killer exclaimed as he began to shovel the pancakes past his teeth. “This is the best fucking food I’ve ever eaten!”

That and the fact there there was intent mixed in the pancakes.

Gratitude/healing.

Killer hadn’t felt the former in a lot time, if ever, and the latter was usually a chilling sensation versus the gentler sensation now.

Allure seemed flattered by Killer’s words, and when Killer mumbled about seconds, Allure made up another plate, and one for himself. When the other Sans carried the plates over to the table, Allure paused, as if just realizing that there was only one chair.

“I can stand.” Killer offered when he noticed the lack of extra chairs. “Or eat on the sofa.”

“What if I-“ A thoughtful, calculating look settled on Allure’s face as his cyan eye lights met Killer’s empty sockets. “-sat on your lap?”

“If that’s what ya want.” Killer shrugged. “Still low on magic, so I won’t make a comfy seat.” Killer clacked his hand on his femur. “All hard bones.”

Allure snorted out a laugh as he set the plates down on the table.

“But hey. Like I said before, it’s your house.” Killer scooted the chair back. “So I ain’t gonna stop you so long as I can keep eating your pancakes.” A genuine, satisfied sigh. “Best breakfast in my entire life.”

“Flatterer.” Allure commented, before seating himself right on Killer’s lap, apparently not shy in the least bit to have his exposed ecto thighs only separated by the shorts. “Will your soul be all right if you lean forward around me to eat?”

”My soul’ll be fine.” Killer said indifferently. “Little tougher than it looks, so along as you don’t mind the slight tingle of my soul up against your ecto now and again.”

Allure tentatively picked up the fork and began to eat but in a stiff posture.

“I can stand if you’re gonna be stiff as a board.” Killer reminded Allure after a minute or so.

”I’m fine.” Allure shot back defensively.

Hmm.

Killer carefully reached under the other Sans’ shoulders to retrieve his plate, thinking he could eat off to the side to allow Allure to have the table. But that didn’t pan out when Allure froze up at the arms under his own.

Allure let the fork go with a clatter as his hands twitch immediately to his chest, a tremble rocking his entire frame as his breath hitched. When Killer attempted to move his arms away, Allure let out a thin whine of panic and threw himself off Killer’s lap to curl up in a trembling ball, low panicked murmuring and stifled sobs rising from him.

Killer could have walked away but he didn’t. He didn’t even exactly know all of what he said when he retrieved Allure’s bathrobe.

It was silky-soft and fluff.

Allure flinched violently when Killer draped the fabric over his hunched shoulders.

”You got a legendary fartmaster here?”

The sudden question threw Allure for a loop and he issued out a wet, shaky laugh.

”You want to go somewhere other than the floor?”

”Sofa.” Allure whispered brokenly, his mind being tormented by something Killer couldn’t see. Allure was mute and unresisting as Killer helped him to his feet and led him to the living room sofa.

Killer didn’t like the empty sockets the other Sans had as he stared straight ahead. It was too close to what Killer saw in the mirror if he accidentally looked at one.

It took some time for Allure to come back to the present, so Killer sat on the other end of the sofa to wait.

Allure slowly wrapped himself up in not only his bathrobe but a blanket on the back of the sofa. 

After an indeterminate amount of time, Allure took in a hitching gasp of breath and shuddered it out as a bony hand reached out of the blanket to wipe away stray tears.

Killer wasn’t sure which one of them started to talk but soon, Killer found himself engaged in an actual conversation which yielded more answers to the questions Killer had earlier, and the reason Allure reacted as he had.

Allure’s au was a classic tale timeline, but with an abrupt shift in direction before the human fell, caused by an accident with something other than just studying determination. An accident that caused half the Underground to go into heats so often that it made it near impossible to function. Rules had to be passed so the afflicted monsters didn’t get taken advantage of but sometimes that didn’t work and Allure had been unfortunate enough to stumble into some bad times for a chunk of time before getting out of it with help from Grillby and others.

A lust ‘verse.

This was a first for Killer.

With what Killer could discern from what little Allure would say and what Killer could read off the other Sans’ face, it had been terrible for Nightmare to leave him in this au.

The heat-induced madness that had taken hold of half the underground had been a terrible mistake before it had been reversed right before being freed by the human from the underground.

Killer was…surprised he was speaking so much, even if he was sidestepping certain questions. 

Allure was pleasant, funny and charming company, and it was such a damn shame that Killer had to leave sooner rather than later.

“-next time, don't drink so much. Enjoy the show.” Allure leaned his bathrobe/blanket wrapped body onto Killer’s side, as he’d been scooting over but by bit while they’d been talking. “You can have some drinks here for free, if you’d like, when I’m done with work.” Allure dropped his gaze. “I’ve missed having someone around to talk to. Someone who doesn’t just want my body and for me to shut up unless it’s moaning.”

Killer turned his skull down and to the side to meet Allure’s gaze.

A quiet study of the other was had.

Allure stared a moment longer before he snuggled in closer to Killer’s side like he was starved for touch that was just resting against another.

Nothing more.

“Wait a sec.” Killer furrowed his brow bone as he thought back over the morning since waking. “Have you been trying to come on to me ever since I came outta the bedroom?“

“You didn’t do anything. Told me to do what I wanted since this is my house. Asked for seconds of my food I usually cook for myself.”Allure sighed, sounding incredibly relieved. “My kinda guy. Polite and interested in what I have to say, instead of how many different ways I can be fucked.”

“Damn.” Killer hissed out in what could pass as sympathy from him. Killer slowly slid out from under Allure’s leaning on him, waiting until he wouldn’t fall over, then awkwardly pat Allire’s shoulder. “That must have sucked a lot.” Killer paused with a blink then made a face. “Dammit.”

“Smooth.” Allure let out that snort of a laugh at the other monster’s expression. “Thanks for not making some lewd sex joke after that.” Allure settled himself on the sofa comfortably. “Leaving?”

”Yeah.”

”Come back any time.” Allure said, sockets scrunched up on mirth. “It’s been a delight to 
have someone over who doesn’t give me shit about what happened to me in the underground, unlike a lot of assholes up top still do.”

“They’re missing out on a lot of killer puns.” The target souled monster tossed out. “What a shame, huh?”

The words seemed to delight Allure but almost instantly, the sadness in his cyan eye lights returns. “You’re not coming back?”

“I don’t know.” Killer said truthfully. “Depends on if my boss lets me.”

Allure gives Killer’s face a searching look and found a hint of regret and heavy weariness. With a sad smile, Allure quietly gets up, allowing the robe and blanket to fall down. He goes upstairs with most of his body on display, before returning with Killer’s jacket and shoes and a pair of socks with flowers on them.

Aster.

Killer tilts his skull to study the socks before he shakes his head in amusement and snorts dresses after getting the nod of assent to keep the shorts and short. Dressed, Killer stretched then sighed before he met the other monster’s eyes lights.

Nothing is said.

There doesn’t have to be, when one could read a face at a glance.

Killer left the quiet house to walk a long way away until he was ended an alley further away from the one Allure followed him to from the club. Killer popped out a cigarette from an pocket, and began to smoke, already feeling his soul begin to pulse with unease at what awaited him.

When Nightmare’s portal forms, Killer feels it, his metaphorical skin crawling as his bones inched unpleasantly at the sensation of negativity. Killer crushed the smoke beneath his shoe before heading for the portal, each step heavier and full of regret that he can’t just choose not to leave.

Killer wasn’t allowed choices.

Nightmare would make sure of that.

Killer’s jaw clenched.

The past evening and this morning felt like a dream.

A possibility of what his life could have possibly been if Killer hadn’t been stuck in a dead world, and hadn’t been discovered by Nightmare. 

A useless dream.

Killer wasn’t allowed nice things.

A cyan-tinted tendril curved out of the portal to lash out in the Killer’s direction before retreating. 

Killer stepped through the portal without looking back. If he had, he would have seen Allure watch him leave with wide empty sockets at the unpleasant sensation of the negativity.

The portal snapped shut.

~

”Good luck.” Allure mumbled as he stared down at what Killer had given him when he exited the house.

A deflated whoopee cushion with a stupid smiley face doodled onto it, along with a message of ‘I’d give you a phone number if I had one, but not for a booty call. Code word’s ‘whoops’ if I ever get one and get back to that au.’

”Alternate universes.” Allure whispered as his gaze slowly lifted to watch the sun rise over the horizon. Clutching the whoopee cushion to his sternum to convince himself he hadn’t dreamed his interactions with Killer, Allure let out a soft laugh over his unfinished multiverse theory thesis shoved into in a dresser drawer didn’t need much more proof than Killer’s existence to be proven correct. Shame he couldn’t go back to the university now that Allure had that proof. “Heh.” Allure turned and slowly headed back home. “Hilarious.”

Chapter Text

The illusion of relative safety shattered the moment Killer exited the portal into Nightmare’s castle.

”It appears sending you to such a place was of use curtailing your magical outbursts.” Nightmare cooly inspected Killer.  “And you finally changed out of those disgusting clothes from your dead au. See to it that those old rags do not re-enter this castle.”  

“Like you don’t count when wearing the same exact clothes soaked with sludge?” Killer didn’t know what possessed him to say that but he had no regrets, even when Nightmare swiftly faced him with tendrils lashing behind him.

“Would you care to repeat that?” 

”Take a shower sometime.” Killer shot back, feeling aggravated that this bastard was all the company he’d have now. “You reek of the aus you visit mixed with dust and your own negativity.” Killer didn’t even see Nightmare move but he certainly felt the agonized crack of his body hitting the stone wall behind him.

”I seem to have misheard you.” Two of Nightmare’s tentacles slowly wrapped around Killer’s arms and hoisted him into the air to dangle. “What was that you said?”

“Put your disgusting corrupted bones in water once in a while.” Killer’s grin was a fixed one, sweat beading on his skull as the cold cyan eye light bored into him. “You reek.”

A wet snap rang out in the following silence. 

Killer choked on a scream as another tentacle wrapped about his neck as the others squeezed broken bones. 

“It seems that I will have to impart upon you that any ‘down time’ I grant you does not mean I will allow you to be defiant upon your return.” Nightmare’s socket narrowed, tendril holding Killer’s arms broken arms constricting to break each of the humerus further. “There was to be a mission today, but not with you acting in this manner.” Nightmare carried Killer into the living space, ignoring the agonized whimpers that came from dangling above the floor by broken limbs. Nightmare walked past the fireplace to drop Killer onto his back on the floor furthest from the warmth of the fire to chase away the perpetual cold of the castle. “Later then.”

Killer’s breath wheezed in and out in sharp, halting gasps after Nightmare had let go of his neck and arms. But he should have know that this wasn’t all the guardian had planned.

In quick procession, the two tendrils snapped sharply down. One cruelly shattered Killer’s legs while the other broke and fractured his ribcage.

Wet sucking breath became wheezing coughs, as red marrow and black determination trickled past Killer’s teeth. The target souled monster struggled to breathe evenly, despite his body trying to tell him he couldn’t breathe with the pressure on his magic swirling within ribcage. Killer let out a weak hiss of protest when a slippered foot stamped down hard on his sternum. Killer’s breath became a pained sob as the heel ground into bone.

”You will stay here for the rest of the day; tomorrow morning, you will go on your mission.” Nightmare spoke as if he weren’t purposefully causing Killer pain, the other skeleton writhing in agony beneath him. “It is reconnaissance, so a broken ribcage should not impede your ability to gather information, but it will help keep your unnecessary opinions to yourself.” 

The pressure lifted, along with the crushing presence that was a Nightmare’s negative aura when displeased.

It was a long day for Killer with his full emotions allowed for him to experience. Broken bones and aching magic prevented Killer from doing anything but focus on breathing and attempt to prevent himself from flinching lest he only cause himself more pain. Killer spent an equally long night tormented by unnamed nightmares. He was a freezing, quivering wreck by the time Nightmare arrived.

With arms and legs no longer broken, Killer was forcefully tossed through a portal with no words said, the only company the continuing pain of a fractured and broken ribcage for the reconnaissance mission.

That mission sucked ass.

Not only was it a fell ‘verse, but it was a vicious one that had Killer struggling to keep his LV contained as he reminded himself forcefully he didn’t need more EXP. He wasn’t going to let himself become the murderous pawn that Nightmare wanted him to become.

Killer left that mission with the necessary info but it was hell on his body as he’d nearly shortcut himself into a solid wall evading detection. When he returned, he related all he learned, then stood there in silence as a Nightmare observed him quietly.

A stand-off of sorts.

Nightmare eventually rose and raised a hand toward Killer, who flinched back then stilled, saying nothing.

Killer knew that Nightmare was just waiting for him to say smartass remark to leave him with a dull, agonizing burn of pain in his ribcage for longer. The hand pressed harshly into Killer’s sternum as cold magic bit into him to heal the damage.

”Get out of my sight.”

Killer left the office quicker than before, a comment forming and dying in the same instant as he went to the kitchen.

Day after day, week after week, the same routine reestablished itself, and Killer believed that this meant that he would not be allowed to return to Allure’s au. But in a way, that was a good thing, since Killer didn’t think he deserved another reprieve when this was his life now.

‘This’ being under Nightmare’s control, which he still balked and went against automatically.

Killer didn’t think punishments being mere out could get any worse than being left alone with broken bones and a full range of emotion to experience.

He was wrong.

The punishments could get much worse.

Recently, Killer had been sent to another universe to spread negativity, but unlike many other times, Killer saw the Papyrus of the au.

He looked so much like Killer’s own brother.

Papyrus didn’t see Killer, which was good, because when Killer saw the other monster, he froze up. A little emotion tricked back into him as Killer watched the Papyrus stomp a foot and shout something at Sans and the Sans just shrugged and smiled lazily in return.

The sight prompted a tiny smile to cross Killer’s teeth, remembering those kind of days.

…Killer missed his brother, even if he didn’t think he deserved to see him, if their world had ever reset.

“You are wasting time.”

Killer violently flinched when Nightmare appeared alongside him to siphon his soul of any and all emotion that had struggled to the surface. The empty-socketed monster stared at Nightmare when the guardian seized his jaw and yanked him close.

”There will be no fantasizing of what could have been.” Nightmare snapped irritably, claws digging painfully into bone. “You are mine now. Mine to do with as I please. You are nothing more than a means to an end, and I will not allow for distractions from the tasks you have been given.” Nightmare let go, sending Killer stumbling a few paces away until he regained his footing. 

“You’re a distraction.” A tight grin fixed itself on Killer’s face. “Better off doing the chaos yourself now that you’re here.”

A tendril slammed into the tree alongside Killer’s skull.

”We will visit those words upon your return to the castle.” Nightmare rose to his full height as his grin became distorted and sharp. “Go, before I end this mission before it begins. I will not be left without new negativity to feast upon if you cannot stir it up here on your own.”

“Then starve.” The words slipped out unintentionally but the disconnect between emotion and body made Killer bolder in word when he didn’t realize just how much trouble he’d get into. “I’m sure the multiverse would be happier that way.” Killer didn’t care nor notice that Nightmare had stiffened as he drew his knife and shuffled down in the direction of the ruins.

The mission went off without a hitch, even if Killer pointedly avoided the Papyrus of the au.

Nightmare’s portal appeared alongside him once the guardian had deemed enough negativity had been spread.

Killer thought nothing of the potential danger of his earlier words to Nightmare as the danger of Killer’s last fight in the au had all but made him forget about the incident.

Nightmare, however, did not forget.

That day, Killer learned that Nightmare could use magic to prevent him from not only parting his teeth (not that Killer usually did-too lazy) but silencing him altogether, which was somehow worse, not to mention utterly terrifying to be unable to defend himself with words.

Killer didn’t recall the magic being used on him, because the moment he’d exited the portal, Nightmare had set upon him. To say that the guardian had mauled him with teeth and claws wasn’t enough. 

Nightmare had torn him apart with vicious intent, no words spoken as he savaged the other monster brutally; bones hung by slivers of magic, Killer’s jaw bone nearly torn off. Killer bled heavily as determination mixed with marrow, where Nightmare had slammed him face-first into stone wall repeatedly.

Killer struggled, at first, then entirely went limp as his left arm was shattered and the right snapped at the humerus.

Time and agony blurred all thought until Killer felt a dull throb of burning aches peppering his body when Nightmare finally finished the violent assault.

A foot dug unkindly into ribs, drawing out a whistle of wet breath but nothing more.

Had Nightmare finally killed him?

Killer didn’t think life would be that kind to him.

To end it all.

He was proven correct when frigid magic sank into Killer’s entire body starting at his battered soul. All at once, he could breathe, but Killer found with a gargling noise that while he could make distressed noises, he couldn’t actually speak.

Nightmare wrapped his tendrils around Killer to set him on his feet, but Killer didn’t move.

He couldn’t even speak. 

“Return here tomorrow morning.” Nightmare said shortly. “Do not make me go to your room and force you into slumber.”

Killer made brief eye contact with the cyan eye light before dropping his gaze and swiftly leaving Nightmare’s sight once the tendrils let go of him.

He couldn’t speak.

No amount of trying changed that, and thus a new punishment was added to the violent outbursts against Killer. Magic to fuzz up Killer’s mind and numb him to language enough that he couldn’t speak aloud nor could he easily sign because of it.

Nightmare didn’t let Killer dwell on it as he began to send Killer out on daily missions the very next day, as he said he would.

All Killer could do was obey or be punished, and since he didn’t have words to plead to be dusted or to surrender (unless knocked unconscious by Nightmare) Killer learned in that short amount time it was better to obey without question because Nightmare then allowed him to be alone until the next mission.

It sucked.

It stung Killer’s pride to be a pawn; having no say in how he lived his life. There was no control at all, since Killer wasn’t even allowed to argue now without his voice. Not could he even say something when he was on missions, which made him seem like some random emotionless bastard that just liked to cause mayhem and destruction while scaring everyone into a negative-leaning au.

It was terrifying.

It was discomforting.

Killer couldn’t do anything to stop what was happening and knew that Nightmare was just waiting for him to break or to lash out in some way. That Nightmare was more than happy to make Killer’s life a living hell until Nightmare grew bored.

Like now, with having a mute pawn that wasn’t able to distract some monsters in certain aus without a voice.

Time passed, as it always did in the castle.

Killer didn’t keep track of it any longer.

There just wasn’t any point to it.

Killer shut himself down even more than before since Nightmare’s muting of his emotions and silencing of his voice.

It was all Killer could do to protect himself.

Like Error had warned, so long as Kller obeyed and played along with Nightmare’s orders, the guardian didn’t drain his soul of every single scrap of emotion.

It was maddening.

One thing that continued to make Nightmare beat him viciously was when Killer kept avoiding any Papyrus he happened to see in any given au, at a distance. Even some of the Sans Killer began to avoid, especially in swap ‘verses, as they often reminded Killer of his own brother.

Nightmare didn’t approve but that was a game of will that Killer eventually won out on.

So long as Killer succeeded in spreading negativity he was allowed to avoid the Papyrus or Sans in any au. But in return, Nightmare often wrangled Killer within his tendrils and before leaving any given au, would force Killer to watch as the guardian dusted the Papyrus or Sans of the au.

It kept that dust off Killer’s hands, even if it wrenched at his soul to watch because after all he’d down in his own au, he regretted his actions and hated he was helpless to stop Nightmare from destroying the balance in the myriad of aus he and Killer attacked.

Despite all the abuse, one small thing that kept Killer from breaking entirely was that he was allowed to go back to Allure’a au from time to time.

Nightmare decided, after a month of missions and magically forced silence on Killer, that Nightmare would send the target souled monster to Allure’s au two to three times a month going forward, in order to work off any excess energy that may build up. 

But unlike the first time that Nightmare had sent Killer to that particular lust ‘verse, Nightmare made his intentions and threats very clear.

~

“You will spend two days within this verse, and like last time, you will come to the portal I make when it forms within five minutes.” Nightmare said softly, leaning in close to a trapped Killer within his tentacles. “Any later and I will drag you through it, dusting whatever monster you end up fucking your pent up magic with.” 

Killer hit the ground and fell over with a sharp muted scream within his soul the audible silence disturbing when witnessing the sight.

Nightnare had just broken his left arm in three places as a portal formed behind Miller. And the guardian merely stared unblinkingly down at Killer as the tentacles swayed idly behind his back.

Killer held the stare for a couple seconds before breaking eye contact and focusing on cradling his broken arm in case Nightmare was planning to toss him through the portal.

”Get up.”

A direct order.

Killwr stood up, balance wobbly as he strove to remain still, clutxhing his left arm close to his chest as his target soul issued out distress since Killer couldn’t auidivly convey it. But he didn’t move, nor did he lift his gaze to make eye contact with Nightmare, even as a chill ran down his spine as footsteps approached him.

”Good. It seems you are finally starting to learn.” Nightmare said in mock aporoval. “A shame you could not hold your tongue. Continue as you are now, and I will remove the spell binding your voice after another few missions.”

Killer winced as Nightmare’s claws seized his left arm and wretched it up, Killer internally fighting with the need to free it from the agonizing way it was being held aloft. Killer grit his teeth as he hung his skull and breathed in hitched gasps, waiting.

”Any defiance when you return from this au, and I will see to it you never speak again, or find any release in another au.” Nightmare said with a hiss. “I do not think you wish for me to wrench the excess energy from your soul every time it overflows. Nor am I interested in partaking in any sexual activities with you, when another can do so for you and not waste my time.”

Killer was lucky he couldn’t feel much of anything right now, partially from his lack of emotions but also from the way his broken arm was dangling in Nightmare’s grasp, because revulsion would have risen. Killer wasn’t sure if Nightmare would have taken offense to that. 

“Am I understood?”

Killer managed a pained nod, quivering when a tentacle pat the top of his skull in that condescending way.

”Very well, then.” Nightmare let go of Killer’s arm, a tendril mockingly steadying the empty socketed monster as another tendril pointed to the portal. “Retain that understanding upon your return.”

Head ducked down and shoulders hunched, Killer clung to his left arm as he stumbled over his feet to go through the portal, weariness both physical and emotional hitting Killer hard as he stepped foot into Allure’s au. 

The moment he did, Killer collapsed to the snowy ground beneath him behind a line of trees opposite of the club Nightmare had left him closer to the last time.

Tears slipped down unbidden through black ichor, thinning the determination as Killer stared off into the distance unseeingly. He didn’t move for a very long time, until he heard rapid footsteps. Killer couldn’t be assed to pick up intent right now; being dusted would be kinder than attempting to seek out help. And despite where Nightmare left him, Killer was uninterested in sex.

Whoever was approaching him could do as they wanted.

~

It was a beautiful outside, with the way the snow had begun to fall heavier, what light could get through the clouds making the snowflakes sparkle.

What a great way to start out the day!

A jog through the forest paths that humans didn’t bother with when the snow was deeper made it much easier for Papyrus to burn off some excess magic lest his body decide it needed to form some ecto. Hence his wonderful workout pants and tank top that helped regulate his elevated magic temperature until it was back under control.

A morning jog, then on to do errands followed by making the house presentable after his brother had finally let slip that he’d met someone who didn’t immediately jump his bones. 

Ppuris thought that was reason enough to cleanup their home despite Sans’ odd reaction to him making a ‘friend.’ The face he made was one of self-deprecation like Sans had made a joke of some kind that he wasn’t going to make Papyrus privy to until an inconvenient time.

Sigh.

The things Papyrus did for his brother.

Surely this new friend would appreciate coming to a clean home and not have it be overrun by an army of socks or dirty dishes becuase Sans was too worn out from his time at the club to be bothered to do more than eat and crash.

The surface was supposed to be about new opportunities for monsters!

Papyrus wanted to have some very strong words with the monsters who outed Sans for what he got up to when he was wracked by that horrible artificial heat that all but wiped any sense of self until the heat was wrung dry. Papyrus hardly ever saw his brother during those years that half the Inderground was afflicted so he was delighted when the terrible mistake had been reversed and his brother entered back into his life.

A quiet home that a safe haven from other monsters (and humans) who thought that Sans was still down to fuck and Papyrus would, in a very blunt and understandable manner that his brother was not interested. And then Papyrus would have to refute thier poorly veiled attempts to get him to hsbe sec with them instead.

How rude!

As if Sans’ state had not only traumatized him to being around someone sone he didn’t know their intentions of, but Papyrus himself had trauma from being accused of doing things to his own brother when he’d been helpless.

How offensive.

Aa if Papyrus would ever take advantage of any of the monsters who had been afflicted by the artificial heat and couldn’t consent. And for those small groups of monsters and humans that thought Papyrus would do that to his own brother?

Papyrus had no regrets sending those ruffians packing with well timed bone attacks with sharp words that left them with no illusions to what he would do should they show up at a private residence again.

Honestly!

It was like no one wanted to properly follow dating protocols any more after those final years in the Underground.

Papyrus noticed that he had slowed his jog to a very stomping walk.

Sigh.

Another topic to bring up with his therapist again but with an addendum; Sans had finally made a friend and it appeared to be genuine as the friend treated his brother like a person and not a doll to be fucked.

So wonderful!

Maybe this was a good step in the right direction for Sans!

A sudden noise broke the quiet of the snowfall; like someone had fallen down very close by.

Papyrus stopped dead in his tracks when a quick couple of strides brought him upon the one that made a noise. 

Goodness!

Today was a very good day indeed!

There was what appeared to be another skeleton monster kneeling in the snow while cradling one of their arms close to their chest but…

”Oh my.” Papyrus murmured worriedly when he saw the ringed, target-like, red colored soul hovering outside the monster’s chest. “Are you all right?” Papyrus added, a little louder.

The monster froze up, hunching in on themselves and keeping their skull hidden beneath their hood.

Hmm.

Kind of like how Sans did when he was trying to avoid his expression being seen.

”May I Check you?” Papyrus asked, because he was polite and not rude like some monsters that demanded they be able to Check without thought to whether another wanted to be seen or not.

A tentative nod accompanied by a defeated sigh.

Papyrus didn’t like that at all, so he refrained from the Check as he moved a little closer. And the closer he got, the more confused he became as the clothes and build of the monster became clear.

Blue jacket with a white, fur-rimmed hood, a white with black stripe pair of shorts and what appeared to be a pair of tennis shoes.

Nostalgia hit Papyrus hard.

If he hadn’t know Sans was at the club, and that he didn’t have his soul outside of him like this monster did, Papyrus could have sworn that this was Sans. As Papyrus watched, the skeleton monster turned their head slightly, and something strange trailed down along their cheekbones, but when it fell, it didn’t touch the snow.

But something else dripped onto the snowy ground.

Blood.

Papyrus’ pale eye lights flicked over the monster and halted on the left arm being held against the chest, marrow soaking through the arm of the jacket and dripping down the limp bony fingers.

‘y’can Check.’ The monster signed as a slow, pained breath was coughed out. ‘Doesn’t matter anyway.’

Papyrus hadn’t thought of speaking in hands in a long while so he had the signs repeated. At the same time, the obvious distressing injury paired with not mattering part made Papyrus give in and Check the other monster, wondering what in the world was going on. What the Check revealed made Papyrus jaw nearly drop open in pure shock.

Sans Killer

LV: *he doesn’t want you to see it*

HP: 0.5/5

The ATK and DEF were hopping all over the place, as if the numbers were unable to settle.

*he wants it all to end*

This wasn’t just a new skeleton monster in the city.

It was another Sans, despite what the preferred name said, with the real name viciously stashed through several times over it was barely visible to read. 

“Do you require assistance?” Papyrus wasn’t going to waste time dwelling on time and space shenanigans; that was Sans’ area of expertise, even if he no longer pursued it. Papyrus was well aware that despite what the scandal on the surface had cost his brother, Sans still kept his thesis and work in some hope that he could pursue his second master’s without being judged for a past he couldn’t control.

The Sans on the snow…Killer.

His name was Killer.

If that was what he wanted to be called, Killer he would be.

Who was Papyrus to judge another monster’s past and reasoning for changing their given name? After all, he and Sans often went by nicknames in the public to try and differentiate their given names versus the notoriety gained through the others.

Allure and Hex.

Hex, despite Papyrus not being affected by the heat that so many others, including his brother, had.

He was stalling.

With a shake if his skull, Papyrus cautiously stepped closer, halting when Killer scrunched up further and made as if to drag himself away despite the pain he surely was in with his left arm in such a state.

Suddenly, the sad smile on Sans’ face when Papyrus asked if he’d see his new friend again made sense.

Papyrus softly snorted in amusement.

Of course his brother would make friends with another him, with how hard it was for Sans to open up to anyone other than his own brother.

Though Papyrus wondered if any actual bonding of sorts had happened if all Sans said they did was keep one another company. And talk about everything except their traumas, most likely. Understandable, since Papyrus had found out that Sans liked his secrets and had trouble with the idea of opening up to a therapist like Papyrus had.

'waddya want?' Killer eventually signed.

There was no sign of hostility; just worn out indifference. 

Papyrus wasn’t sure what to say. He had half a mind to call Grillby and have him send Sans out here, since it seemed that Killer had been open to speaking to him.

Where was Killer’s brother anyway?

Why wasn’t he with him?

Did that Papyrus get injured too?

Was Killer was looking for help?

Apparently, Papyrus’ silence made Killer finally realize he wasn’t leaving. Killer paused with his right hand halfway to his hood before he sighed again and let it fall back as his hand immediately went right back to his wounded left arm. Another deliberate pause, before Killer lifted his skull to look up at the other monster.

A shiver ran down Papyrus’ spine at the sight of the blank expression.

It was as if Killer had given up on all good in the world and was just awaiting his fate. To be found by someone willing to grant him the mercy of ending it all, since his mind didn’t allow him the luxury of doing it himself.

The sight frightened Papyrus because he’d seen the exact same expression on his own brother’s face months before they would be freed from the Underground. Papyrus didn’t even notice he’d moved forward to drop down alongside Killer until his hands were hovering over the tensed up monster’s shoulders though Killer now stared at the snow beneath his feet.

It was lucky that Killer didn’t have the energy for a short cut, if that was something he could do like Sans.

But wowie!

Two Sans!

Papyrus was thrilled by the idea of there being more other brothers out there.

Burt right now, action was required!

The decision to call to Grillby came when Papyrus spotted tears mixed in with the black that leaked out of Killer’s sockets. With the dark lines diminished and the deep shadows etched beneath the sockets, all Papyrus could see was an exhausted mirror image of Sans when he had been teetering on the edge of ending his own life to be free of unending suffering at the hands of others.

Killer let out a shaky, near silent mocking laugh at himself but did nothing to stem the tears.

Papyrus couldn’t stand the idea of leaving this monster in his brother’s image to suffer alone in his pain both physical and mental. Papyrus drew out his phone as he very carefully scooted the rest of the way over to give Killer a hug, along with a murmur of reassurance. If the tears increased and the laughing began to sound a little hysterical, Papyrus didn’t point it out. As much as he detested texting, Papyrus did so one handed so he could use the other to gently pet Killer’s shoulders soothingly.

Grillby-

Please send Sans out to the park across from the club. You can tell the patrons it is a family emergency. His friend is back and is in a similar state Sans was upon leaving the Underground.

-Papyrus 

The response from Grillby was swift.

Your brother has the week off starting now. I will deal with anyone who has a problem with that. Tell him to dress warmer for the winter. The club is warm but the walk home is not if he doesn’t have the energy to take a shortcut.

“I don’t understand how this is possible but since I have a Sans and you surely have a Papyrus somewhere, we can go by nicknames when around one another.”

‘Allure.’  Killer signed.

”That’s what my brother goes by.” Papyrus agreed. “And as a show of solidarity back in the Underground, I went by Hex.”

‘hexagon.’ Killer signed back, after a moment. 

“Just Hex.” Papyrus leaned back to stare down at the other monster with a frown. “Will you come to our home and have us see to that wound?”

‘You’re not gonna be hex-a-gone from here?’

”how did you sign…never mind, that was utterly terrible.” Papyrus tutted. “Do try again.”

‘Nah, m’all-lure’d out.’

“Did you just sign ‘nah’ like ‘banana’? I changed my mind.” Papyrus groaned. “Don’t.”

‘I’m a killer vision.’

“Nyeh!” Papyrus sockets closed briefly as if in pain, missing the fleeting faint smile that crossed Killer’s teeth. “Of course you and my brother have a shared sense of terrible jokes and puns.” Papyrus opened his sockets again and slanted a look down at the other monster. He hesitated, then cleared his non-existent throat as Papyrus pitched his voice closer to his brother’s . “I’m bone tired from all the skele-ton of work I’ve done today.”

Killer let out a weak trickle of barely-there laughter, his socket’s scrunched up briefly in the telltale sign of glee before he trailed off into a weak, wheezy coughs but he did manage a thumbs up of approval.

Just as Killer settled back into the arm Papyrus was using to keep him upright, Papyrus turned sharply at the sound of Sans coming out of a shortcut, his brother’s clothing looking like it had been tossed on in haste.

Purple, teal, cyan, black.

No longer just blue, black, and white.

When Sans’ eye lights vanished within his sockets, it confirmed to Papyrus that Killer was, in fact, the monster that he’d met. As Sans carefully approached and knelt alongside Killer, Papyrus felt some guilt for not believing his brother straight away.

Meeting a doppelgänger of oneself from another universe?

Papyrus had trouble believing it until now, with clear proof in front of his eye lights.

But that was neither here nor there.

It was now in the past.

All Papyrus could feel in the moment was a protectiveness toward Killer, like he felt toward his own brother when the gossip got out of hand. Now that Sans was there, Papyrus hoped that between the two of them, they could convince the wounded and likely suicidal Killer to let them help him. Papyrus had enough magic to at least partially heal the surely broken or fractured arm. And if Killer allowed them to care for him further, Papyrus and Sans could provide their home for Killer as a quiet space to heal. Papyrus glanced in time to see Killer sign to Allure.

’Heya. Don’t got a phone so…’ A faint, tremulous grin rose on Killer’s face. ‘Whoops.’

Allure ugly laughed as he leaned into Papyrus side.

Papyrus looked between the two Sans.

”Code word.” Sans provided.

’Hexagon.’ Killer proudly signed as he pointed to Papyrus.

The aforementioned monster sighed.

’Allure.’ Killer sighed as he stared straight at Sans with a softened expression of relief like he knew that he and Papyrus wouldn’t cause him any harm.

Papyrus tilted his skull curiously at that, but refrained from saying anything when he saw a tiny genuine smile on his brother’s face as the two Sans kept on signing to one another. Maybe Papyrus should figure out how one could bring more inter-dimensional brothers to visit Sans so he wouldn’t be so sad all of the time.

This was the first time in years Papyrus had seen his brother’s real smile.

Chapter Text

Killer's tank was empty; he had no fucks left to give.

His broken left arm left him in agony. His emotions twisted and churned his mind with dark thoughts.

He hurt.

He was…broken.

Broken from his now-dead au, and Nightmare had never given him the proper time to mourn the loss.

Not that Killer deserved to miss those he’d dusted during his determination-fueled craze as he lost himself to the insidious whispers and pressures from Chara.

Broken.

Broken from all the resets when it became too much. 

Broken and breaking further, when Nightmare forced Killer to work for him, denying him any freedom but these two days the guardian allowed him.

Those two days Killer had planned to use to just lie in the snow and not do anything, even if that meant he dusted. He wasn’t meant for the role that Nightmare wanted of him. It didn’t mean that Killer wanted to run those missions but he did, if only because it got Nightmare to leave him alone, when the guardian would otherwise torment him until he obeyed.

And yet.

…and yet Killer now had unexpected company. He hadn't expected to have a run in with Allure's Papyrus.

But here that Papyrus was, offering to help him.

Hex.

Allure and Hex.

Heh.

Killer let out another wheezy, exhausted laugh, uncaring of the way the other Sans (once he appeared with clothes in disarray) and Papyrus sent unspoken words between one another.

They wanted to help him?

The monster with LV, who killed his own brother and others in his Underground, who now worked for Nightmare, terrorizing whatever au he was pointed to?

Killer couldn't help but laugh.

It was so funny, after all the loneliness of his dead world, and then being forced into serving Nightmare, that Killer was being treated gently by another Sans and a Papyrus.

Tears mixed in with the determination that never stopped trailing down from his sockets.

He'd stopped signing some time ago and had barely realized that Allure had crouched down alongside him with a searching look.

"You didn't hear me, did you?"  Allure asked softly.

Killer blinked at him, frowning as he played back the last couple of minutes.

Nothing.

Heh.

Heheheh.

Killer was so tired.

He really didn't care what happened to him anymore.

A hand lightly touched his uninjured shoulder, but Killer didn't outwardly react, not even when another hand came to rest on his cheekbone, heedless of the black ichor and tears.  Killer went with the gentle motion to lift his skull up, vaguely wondering when he went back to staring sightlessly at the snowy ground.

"My brother and I are going to bring you to our home."  Allure told him.  "Are you all right with that?"

'Don't matter where I go.' Killer signed off to the side so the other Sans could see it. 'Can't escape.'

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, before one set of footsteps rapidly walked away.

Allure's hands remained lightly on Killer, encouraging him to lift his empty gaze to Allure's cyan eye lights, so different than Nightmare's.

"Papyrus is going ahead to check our medical supplies."  Allure said. "I'm going to check you for any other injuries than your arm." Phalange pet lightly along shoulder and cheekbone.  "Okay?"

Killer couldn't form any more words to sign so he merely dipped his head in a nod into Allure's hand. Killer did nothing but breathe shallowly through the pain as Allure ran his hands over him lightly, testing for any other hidden injuries.  Allure kept his hands away from Killer's pelvis and any other more sensitive places, hand featherlight when checking sternum and spine.  The target souled monster's breath hitched as silent tears continued to fall, not used to such careful touch.  His bones rattled softly, but he didn't flinch away from Allure inspecting his broken and fractured left arm, like Killer might have attempted in the past with Nightmare.

There wasn't any point trying to escape Nightmare's hold, even when he healed Killer.

Nothing good came of the resistance.

...and yet Killer dared to push the guardian's patience, unable to accept the heavy-handed control over his life.

A half-assed, desperate attempt to get Nightmare to end him.

Killer would keep trying, no matter what, not content to allow the manipulation to continue.

...Nightmare would grow bored of the insubordination eventually.

Right?

"This might be uncomfortable."  Allure warned.  "Shoot a bone attack out of the ground if it is."

Pain lanced up through Killer's arm the moment Allure attempted to remove the arm of the jacket.

A blue bone immediately shot out of the snow then shattered to pieces.

Killer released a wheeze-whine as the dull throbbing ache began anew.  But unlike Nightmare, who would have cruelly wrenched his arm closer to heal it, Allure carefully settled Killer's arm back against his ribcage.  Air whistled in and out as Killer struggled to even out his breathing, but he sent woozy grateful intent toward Allure for not continuing, confused when he received alarm followed by sadness from the other monster.  Killer lifted his skull, having ducked it down to attempt to contain the pain. With a steadying breath, Killer exchanged glances with Allure.  Killer could tell the other Sans desperately wanted to ask what happened, to know who hurt him.  That Allure would try and provide a sanctuary for Killer; to shield him from whoever had done this.

He didn't deserve it.

Allure would likely ask later anyway.

Killer accepted that, but for now, both of them knew that Killer was too fucked up to answer anything due to his wounded arm and his emotions, soul wavering between target and inverted heart.

"The jacket sleeve his going to have to be cut off."  Allure warned as he moved to kneel in front of Killer.  "I can mend it later, or you can have my old jacket when I had similar taste in clothing like you."

Killer shook his head.

It was all he had left apart from shorts and shoes from his no longer existent home au.

"It will hurt if we try to pull it out, no matter how gentle."  Allure warned, as he looked Killer in the sockets, as if he could see the very dim hazed out eye light in one of them.  

Killer huffed out a grumble that passed for assent.

Allure looked unconvinced that Killer wanted his mangled arm to be dragged out through his jacket's blood-covered arm.

'Please.' Killer weakly signed.

Allure's shoulders slumped as he let out a slow sigh.  At an alert from his phone, Allure carefully reached out to hold Killer's good shoulder, hesitating.  "I'm going to hold you against me to take us through a shortcut."

Killer sighed in return as he leaned into Allure unprompted, somehow not jostling his left arm as the other Sans' arm quickly looped around beneath the limb to rest over Killer's lower spine.

"I got you, buddy."  Allure murmured, resting his chin over Killer's right shoulder, tightening his grip.  "Here we go."

Killer's sockets closed, letting the familiar sensation of travelling through the void wash over him.

All at once, he and Allure were in the living room of the former's house.

Blinking open his sockets, Killer saw that Hex made good use of his time to convert the room into a makeshift first aid center.   Blankets and sheets were folded over one another over and over, creating a comfortable space for Killer to lie in, and some elevation for his left arm to lie on for it to be treated. Killer felt an undefined emotion well within his currently inverted heart-shaped soul.

These monsters had no reason to treat him with such kindness.  

Killer had only met Allure once, and he had been drunk for most of that time, only sober after that wonderful breakfast. It was cruel of Nightmare to send him here, when Killer wasn't sure if this would be the last visit to this place or not. Allure and Hex shouldn't waste their resources or magic on him when Nightmare could heal Killer just fine, if painfully.

"Here." Allure offered a tiny pill.  "It'll take the edge off the pain."

Killer just leaned forward, tapping into the pill with his teeth, and allowing it to absorb via his magic.

"Bite down on this while we take off the jacket." Allure offered thick piece of cloth next.  "You don't need to grind your jaw down and possibly crack something."

Killer hesitated as he felt the soft fabric brush the front of his teeth.

"We won't cut your jacket."  

Killer glanced at Allure, to confirm the truth of the words, before he parted his teeth this time to bite down on the cloth. He closed his sockets to brace himself, Killer weakly curling his hand into a fist, only for a Papyrus-sized hand to loosen it.

"Grip as tight as you need."  Hex insisted, sounding concerned as he offered his own hand.  "We'll try not to take too long, but we have to be careful not to loosen any of the magic holding your broken bones together."

Killer issued out a slow sigh through his teeth gripping the thick fabric, but clumsily grasped Hex's hand.  His teeth gnashed hard when Allure began to maneuver his broken to pieces left arm out of his jacket sleeve.

It hurt like a bitch.

Killer bit down harder, unable to help but let out a whine of discomfort.

That pain pill Allure gave him definitely made removing his jacket more bearable.

The shirt came next, but it wasn't one he was attached to, as he'd found it in the closet in the room at the castle.  It was cut off carefully instead of being pulled off over the arm.  Quietly, distantly, Killer was glad that neither of the brothers openly stared at his body, where it had been broken and healed over and over again.  Not all the scars remained, but the one from the kid Underground remained across shoulder and ribcage, as well as the crack on his target soul, remained prominent.

Hex and Allure tried and failed to hide their alarm at the state of Killer's arm.

Not surprising.

For how much it pained him, Killer thought it must be a horrific sight. He spat out the piece of thick fabric of to the side with a groan. He could barely feel his fingers, doing his best to not twitch them.

Allure and hex being visibly alarmed by the state of killers left arm as they start to treat it.

Killer mute still so he can’t say anything and despite the pain reliever it still hurt.

"You don't have to stay awake if you think you're going to pass out." Allure held another small pill close.  "There's...a lot of setting bones to do."

Killer wearily closed his sockets after taking the second pain killer.

Allure was right.

Killer did not want to be conscious while what was likely shards were being pieced back together to be healed.

So, he let go.

Turned out stubbornness to remain awake could be met with passing out when one wasn't being forced to experience the pain of being forcefully healed.

Like Nightmare did to him.

Killer welcomed the oblivion that came with allowing his body to actually rest.

Being unconscious and not in pain was a nice break, knowing that it would hurt again when he woke up.

...wasn’t that just the story of his life?

Killer was used to it.

When he did wake up, Killer found that he wasn't in as much pain as before.  In fact, he only had a bit of an ache in his arm.  An arm that was now in a sling, the limb held close to his ribcage. Killer was propped into a seated position on the sofa in the living room for a more comfortable rest.

Time was a funny thing.

Killer must have been on heavier pain killers, because he stayed in the house at Allure's offer, backed up with Hex's hopeful expression. The target souled monster had agreed, if only because he could tell that Hex wanted Killer to stay for Allure's benefit. Killer understood being shut out from others around him, even if in Killer's case it had been his own decision to distance himself.

It took the whole two days of rest in the Lust 'verse for Killer to feel more alive again.

Hilarious, that Nightmare thought Killer would want sex with a broken arm.  

Thinking of that bastard, it was time to get going, which was a shame, because Killer didn't even get a chance to actually chat with Allure like last time.  There was even some regret that lingered as Killer quietly slipped out of the house after Allure had gone to bed.

"Will you come back?"

Killer paused on the porch, casting a glance back over his shoulder, to see Hex standing in the front doorway. Killer's empty gaze looked away, then he raised his hand and the hand in the sling to awkwardly sign. ‘Don’t know. Not my decision.’

Hex made as if to say something, but merely shook his head in an understanding (Papyrus) way and stepped forward to lean over to give Killer a gentle hug while avoiding the sling. 

Killer let it happen, and left once Hex let go of him, Killer hesitated for a long moment. Long enough that Hex backtracked into the house and returned with a winter coat that he draped over Killer's shoulders.

Nothing else was said or signed.

Killer dipped his skull in acknowledgment of the warmer coat, before he headed off down the porch steps, and down an empty sidewalk.

He wasn’t followed.

By the time Killer reached the area he needed to be, the portal appeared within a minute of waiting in the dark snowy silence around him. Killer stepped through the dark swirling portal without looking back, as he had done the last time.

~

The week passed.

Killer did nothing but do as Nightmare wanted him to on missions.

The guardian of negativity, mollified by the obedience that was witnessed, lifted the magic that had forcefully silenced Killer. Nightmare was further satisfied over the empty-socketed monster not kicking up a fuss over mission details, nor offering any overly smartass remarks once the silence was lifted. Nightmare appeared particularly pleased with the way Killer could successfully wheedle information out of monsters in aus, and by the ability to wrap up missions in an efficient manner.

The tendril that soon began to pat Killer's skull in approval made him shiver.

It was an unpleasant sensation.

An unwanted touch.

But when Killer met Nightmare's gaze, and saw the cyan eye light boring into him, he said nothing. 

The condescending pointed pats continued after each successful mission from that day forward.

Killer struggled to withhold the distaste from the chilly touch.  Even without access to his emotions at times, Killer could still dislike the unwanted touch.

Killer hated Nightmare, when able to feel.

He hated himself, when forced to feel during missions.

Killer was trapped.

Trapped.

He couldn’t escape.

Nightmare wouldn’t let him.

A reminder that was only strengthened when Nightmare would form a portal in the lust 'verse to retrieve Killer in the future.

~

Time no longer mattered; the only reason time distantly mattered to Killer on occasion was when Nightmare created that portal to the Lust ‘verse.  This happened two to three times a month, depending on the guardian's mood, and the assumption that Killer needed to go get pent-up energy out.

The way Nightmare and waved Killer through the portal with an aggravated expression amused Killer to some degree; as if Nightmare believed bodily desires were a waste of time when there were aus to terrorize.

Joke's on him.

Killer pointedly didn’t let Nightmare know that he wasn’t fucking anyone at all.

Hell, the only reason Killer hadn’t entirely lost his sanity was that he spent time with Allure, and occasionally, Allure’s brother Hex. Though more often than not, Hex encouraged the two Sans to spend time with one another without him being a ‘third wheel to time and space shenanigans and any shared secrets remaining secret between Sans-es.’ Killer’s soul ached with nostalgia whenever he was around Hex, but it wasn’t the same. Being around another Papyrus would never be the same; there would always come a ‘fun’ heaping of guilt and remorse.

Allure understood.

Damn being able to read faces.

But neither Killer not Allure decided to inform Hex right away that Killer’s Papyrus was dead.

If Hex was as perspective as Killer's brother had been, he'd already have a good idea that was the case.

Besides, Killer avoided that topic (anything about his dead au, really) like the plague, as there was enough pain in his soul with the loss and he wasn’t keen on reopening the wound. Not when Nightmare delighted in tormenting him in his night terrors already.

At most, these fleeting half day to two day ‘breaks’ that Killer was allowed to take to the lust ‘verse' and took desperately to accepting Allure's company and by extension, Hex’s.

It made him feel more like a real monster again, and not some pawn.

But when it was only Killer and Allure in the room, and some five visits in, Killer found himself opening up just a little a bit about his shitty 'boss'.

~

"He sounds like a piece of shit.  You should drop his toxic ass and find a better place to work."

"If I could, I'd do it." Killer let out a low, hollow laugh. "But I don't got a choice. Bastard will always find me."  Bitterly. "I'm not getting out until I'm dust." Killer regretted adding that the moment he saw the anger in Allure's eye lights.

"I can help."  Allure's anger died down to worry.  "You can lie low here."

"Multiverse, remember?"  Killer returned wearily.  "My boss can travel wherever he wants to.  Any 'verse.  S'how he sends me to 'em."

"...he can keep track of where you are."  Allure stated flatly.

"Yup. Sucks."

"...if you promise to believe me, I'll tell ya a secret."

Not what allure expected to hear and he offers help out. Can lay low here.

Killer asks allure if he promises to believe him if he tells him a secret

Allure squinted his sockets at Killer. "He'd find you even if he doesn't know where you are right now?"

"Yup." Killer looked away, not wanting to see any pity, if it was there.  "He sends me to  different universes; most look like my own, and on occasion its vastly different.  Like here, I see familiar faces of friends and family." Killer waves a phalange between him and Allure.  "I see the Sans and see what could have been, if I’d grown up differently, or somewhere else then where I lived."

Allure quiet, as if knowing Killer had more to say.

It was probably all over his expression.

Stupid determination thinning out with tears.

"But yeah, my boss would find me here.  I can't escape, and if I don't show up to the portal here, then it's less likely that I'll be allowed back.  And this au is the only place I get a break in, where I don't get my bones broken or my emotions drained to be later used against me."  Killer closed his sockets.  "M'tired.  I was tired long before the boss found him."  Killer's empty sockets opened to fix Allure with exhausted resignation.  "Don't try to help me hide. It won't work, and you'll only get hurt in the process."

Allure stared.

Killer doesn’t dare try to read the other's face as he gets up off the living room sofa and exited Allure's house.

He doesn't look back.

Allure followed him anyway.

Stubborn, like Killer.

The target soul seized with mute horror when a portal began to form.

Outside of Allure's home.

Fuck.

Not good.

Killer froze in place, which allowed Allure to act. 

Allure swiftly plastered his body to Killer's, one arm going around the back of his neck to grip the back of his skull, while Allure's other hand goes to Killer's cheekbone. He was warm with the formed ecto burning off magic beneath his clothing.

The action clicked.

Allure was pretending to make out with him, his teeth nearly touching his own.

"Come back anyway."  Allure whispered, briefly meeting Killer's empty gaze with cyan lights.

Killer let Allure know without words he wanted it, but it wasn't his choice, no matter how much the company allowed him semblance of a sort-of normal life.  Then, Killer watched as the other Sans' mannerisms changed like a switch. The current sorrow snapped into something flirty and heavy with interest Allure never showed before.

"You're welcome back any time with a kiss like that." Allure leaned back with a cheerful pat to Killer's cheekbone before practically bouncing away from his close proximity to Killer's body.  He spun on a heel and flounced away as if Allure had not spotted the very obvious portal behind Killer.

Nightmare knew where Allure lived.

There was no point for Allure to not go into his own house.

Killer didn’t look back as he stepped through the portal before a tendril could reach out and yank him in. Once the swirling darkness closed behind him, Killer dropped his gaze on the tiled floor of the castle, soul remaining a solid target.

A deep bone-chill.

Nightmare was assessing him until he finally let out a low grumble.

“Strange, that you’ve chosen another Sans to deal with that pent up energy of yours.” Nightmare raised a hand and formed another portal. “You had best have some energy left for a mission.”

It wasn’t a question.

Killer said nothing as he walked through the newly formed portal, empty sockets still locked on the floor. He was quiet, as that was apparently a gage Nightmare used in whether or not it was useful to allow Killer to the lust ‘verse.

The mission sucked, as per usual.

But unlike before when Killer showed visible distaste and anger toward what he was being forced to do…Killer did nothing. And all because that pathetic scrap of his soul that still cared for some reason, yearned to be able to go back to the one ‘verse he wasn’t attacked in. There was no telling when it would be the last time Killer would get to see Allure and his brother, so he acted like each visit was his last.

Hopefully it would hurt less that way, when Nightmare eventually didn’t allow Killer to go  back.

Chapter Text

Nightmare did seem to sense some kind of contentment within Killer, but it seemed that, like before, so long as Killer obeyed his orders, he didn’t care what it meant. Whether content from a break or from having ‘sex’ with Allure, Nightmare didn’t give a shit so long as Killer continued to produce satisfactory results.

In a way, it was a relief that the bullshit Killer had to deal with when it came to Nightmare had yet to extend to Allure and his ‘verse, no matter what the lust au Sans said about coming back despite the risk.

Killer didn’t think anyone should be forced to deal with Nightmare, even as a punishment for wrongdoing in their universes. This included Killer himself; he’d rather have been left to die in his crumbling apart world than to be forced to live as he had been.

And as shitty a luck as he had, Nightmare decided that it was time to up the ante against those trying to oppose him. This, in turn, meant that not only was Killer to continue to trick, injure and/or scare monsters across different aus in addition to reconnaissance, but if there was a LV 1 monster that was apart of the group trying to oppose Nightmare, Killer was to now dust them.

With new parameters set, Killer did everything in his power to avoid actually dusting anyone, so long as he found no one that fit said parameters.

As per usual, Nightmare found out, and with an offhand comment, the guardian wondered if perhaps he made a mistake in allowing Killer to go to the lust ‘verse, if he was still trying to opt out of specific orders given to him.

Killer luckily had no emotions to weigh him down at the time so he, under the watchful cold cyan eye light, dusted his first LV 1 monster, an Undyne, that had made boasts about how she would help take down that ‘goopy jerk!’

Nightmare approved of the death, and left that au to despair after killing several other monsters and removing the human child from the timeline with a viciousness that had Killer stand his ground and watch.

Someone had to suffer for those who died.

May as well be him, since Killer was a part of this, however unwillingly.

~

Killer can’t sleep after several universes he’d helped seep deeper into despair and negativity of a life that was even further out of reach. He also had orders to make it hard for certain aus to reset, and others to not be able to reset at all, if they were a part of the guardian of positivity’s desperate attempt to push back against Nightmare and the chokehold on the multiverse he now held.

Throughout this despicable, most of the time, one-sided fights, Allure’s universe remained untouched.

But it hurt.

It was soul-crushing to put other aus through what Killer had been forced to endure in his own au. 

No resets.

Little to no monsters remaining.

Hopelessness.

To see other Sans and Papyrus left behind in their dying or soon to be dead aus, some times even a Toriel or an Asriel, to possibly do as Killer had done in his own au. To apathetically sit, all alone, for a longest time, without any resets.

It was this type of ruining of an au that Nightmare often forced Killer to carry out, and after he target souled monster left too many monsters behind as broken and sobbing shells of themselves over the loss of their loved ones, Killer finally broke for a second time, his soul gaining another agonizing crack alongside the first.

But he didn’t care.

The agony kept him awake; the screams haunted his waking hours.

Killer didn’t care.

He couldn’t care, or his soul would shatter.

…maybe he should let it, but Killer’s soul refused to break.

He should have known.

Killer should have known Nightmare had done something to not allow him to die. Maybe Killer had already known all along, and just shoved away the knowledge so that he could live with himself for a time before being allowed to die.

The lack of sleep took some time to get to him, but there was only so much time Killer could spend awake before his mental stability began to slide away from him.

Nightmare seemed to notice the lack of sleep but simply didn’t appear to care as he seemed to waited Killer out.

The empty socketed monster couldn’t pinpoint exactly when this happened, but it had to be nearly a week before Killer realized that he’d been given no missions.

A week of no sleep, and counting.

The longer the time passed, the less Killer was even able to catch a quick nap here and there.

Killer hadn’t even been allowed back to Allure’s au.

Nightmare didn’t approach him.

Nightmare said nothing to him.

Killer was left to his own devices in the castle, all alone with only his thoughts as company.

And those thoughts?

Those thoughts, which began to become crazy, almost suicidal ideas? It only grew worse the longer Killer was forced to remain within the castle.

Trapped.

Trapped, and worse off than he’d be if Killer were to have been left within his dead au.

The castle walls felt like they were closing in, the negativity Killer had become acclimated to months ago making his bones itch metaphorically.

Days went by.

Two weeks?

Three?

He lost count, as he often did within the castle.

Killer was amped up, on pins and needles, as he realized that Nightmare wasn’t siphoning off his emotions like he had been before.

Why?

What had changed? 

Killer didn’t think he was doing anything differently, nor had Nightmare made any changes until recently. Not even after he’d figured out that Killer was going to meet with Allure, but so long as Nightmare didn’t think it was anything more than sex.

So what was going on?

Another mind game?

Why?

Why now?

Killer woke up a week and half into no missions, he restlessly shifted on the end and stared blankly at the ceiling overhead. A wild idea had formed the longer he was without a purpose, which made Killer upset because he didn’t need nor want a purpose to live. Especially when it came from Nightmare. 

Was this it?

Killer frowned.

Was Nightmare trying to see if he was ‘balanced’ so that Killer would no longer be allowed refuge, however short, in another au?

Or was there another reason?

Last night had been unnerving, what with the way Nightmare eyed Killer thoughtfully, more so than usual, as if trying to figure something out.

Killer didn’t like it.

He hardly slept, as per usual.

The very next day, Killer decided to give Nightmare something to think about, if only to show the guardian that he wasn’t as docile as he had been the past week.

Upon breaking out of his exhausted blank staring at a wall, Killer went out of the room and began to wreck magical havoc in the hallway. He had pent up magic to burn anyway, now that it wasn’t being wrung out of him through missions.

Nightmare didn’t appear to stop him.

Killer sent a couple Gaster Blasters beams into the door of Nightmare’s office.

Also nothing.

Killer lashed out further down along the hall, then made his way down the staircase to the foyer and blasted that area before moving on to the main living area, where he found Nightmare lounging indifferently on a chair with a book; something about the void, stolen from a science-based au.

What the fuck was going on?

Why hadn’t Nightmare reacted to any of the earlier ruckus?

Unbidden, Killer began to feel a sharp spike in fury and whatever caused it made him tip over the edge and snap. With a snarl, Killer as he redirected that anger to Nightmare as he unleashed a rapid succession of multiple types of attacks.

Would it be any use?

Killer supposed he’d find out.

Nightmare seemed to be perfectly content to let him suffer for his own entertainment, never allowing him death.

Any consequences did not matter.

Killer followed through with this massive attack against his tormenter, acknowledging that this very well could end with his death, should the guardian decide to take offensive. Determination seeped down from empty sockets, some of it even making Killer cough it past his teeth with the effort he was actually putting behind his magic and the vicious intent toward Nightmare.

Allure would move on, Killer figured. Most Sans could move on, even if they moped around for a long time over what could have been or what they could have done, but didn’t.

Killer just wanted this all to end.

He couldn’t stand what Nightmare was forcing him to become; no amount of ‘breaks’ were ever going to change that.

With every universe that fell into further despair and negativity, Killer hated himself that much more, and loathed Nightmare, especially within this moment. Because Nightmare wasn’t stopping him. The guardian was allowing the fighting, even if Nightmare did not retaliate as he would have before. Killer became even more desperate as he sensed tingles of emotions within his soul, the red of the target rippling around the edges in response.

Darkness descended on the living area’s space.

The sight made Killer’s body respond with a full body flinch, then briefly freeze up when he could no longer see Nightmare but for the brief flashes of cyan.

Unnatural darkness completely took over.

Killer couldn’t see.

Soon, he couldn’t even hear his own footsteps.

Panic.

A raw, unbridled fear.

Desperation reached its peak as despair followed, but not before Killer launched once last salvo of bone attacks and several Gaster Blaster beams to strike where he last saw Nightmare with.

A silence.

Fear became dread.

Dread became panic.

Killer snapped a jagged bone into existence to grip in his right hand, knife in his left. He remained poised in a battle-ready position, despite being unable to sense or see anything around him in the darkness surrounding him.

Movement.

To his left.

A displacement in the air.

Killer rounded on the spot; he stabbed forward and then down.

The blade sank into something.

A brief moment of triumph.

Then, everything went wrong.

Any icy hand seized his soul.

Killer halted as shock set in.

Nightmare had never directly touched his soul before.

The frigid touch sent Killer to his hands and knees, his soul remaining within the guardian of negativity’s grasp as Killer himself took in a rough draw of breath.

”It is clear to me now that you do not understand just how much free will I have allowed you.”

The cold spread through Killer’s soul as tendrils lazily twined around him.

Any remaining bone attacks or Gaster Blasters shattered out of existence.

Killer was held up on his knees as another tendril squeezed both wrist until nerveless hands dropped blade and jagged bone magic. The tendril then yanked Killer’s arms behind his back, causing a wince and groan of pain.  The last tentacle wrapped around his neck to lean his skull back at a painful angle to look up at Nightmare.

The darkness around them was gone.

Nightmare studied Killer like one would an ant struggling amid water that had been poured down an anthill. The hand not holding onto Killer’s soul came down to rest clawed phalange directly onto the target soul itself.

Killer did not like where this was going, but couldn’t speak as the tendril around his cervical vertebrae constricted to the point all he could let out was choked whine of distress.

“Since you do not appear to have accepted your place here as I had thought earlier-“ Nightmare lightly scraped his claws along the surface edge of Killer’s soul, drawing forth a soundless scream. “-I will show you firsthand what will happen should you continue this pointless resistance of yours.”

~

Another universe of Nightmare’s choosing.

Another pacifist universe that Nightmare was going to force Killer to injure, maim or dust all the monsters within, apart from any lingering higher LV monsters that the guardian himself would kill. Forced to terrorize each populace of the au Killer had been brought to.

A small mercy that it was never Allure’s au.

A small mercy that Killer wasn’t gaining much EXP for any new LV.

No mercy, that this small point in time would haunt Killer for years to come, because he had zero control over what was currently happening.

The latest au brought forth new fear and terror and disbelief, as Killer started anew in this Underground with an eerie blank grin to match his empty sockets.

But it wasn’t a conscious decision on Killer’s part to stab into the nearest monster tying to run away. Not was it to short cut ahead of a small group to terrorize them by injuring and dusting one of them while the others struggled to get away. Nor was it Killer’s choice to slowly, casually walk after them as they begged for their lives to someone who looked familiar yet not to them.

Killer couldn’t stop himself.

His body was acting against what his mind was crying out toward his own soul.

Nightmare had done this to him. The guardian had forced his own magic into Killer’s unstable soul to force his body to move, to act and dodge and dust, while Killer internally panicked over the ease which Nightmare puppeteered his body. 

Hell.

This was hell.

The au Killer was currently being forced to lay waste to was the…well, actually, Killer had lost track of how many universes Nightmare had brought him to in this state, but Killer sure as hell wasn’t going to be forgetting the terrified looks nor the begging from the monsters around him.

What was even worse was the fact that Nightmare made Killer murder each Papyrus. And Nightmare never let Killer do any mercy killings with just one intent laden attack.

No.

Nightmare forced Killer to torture the other monster to death, making them scream l, cry, beg or even sometimes, for some fucked up reason, try to comfort Killer, as if whatever Papyrus could see in him somehow clued them into what was happening to Killer. Maybe it was because Nightmare made him dust (or almost dust, if they weren’t LV 1) any Papyrus regardless of the au variation.

Or maybe it was just the tears that made the determination thin to nothing the past few times that allowed the Papyrus to understand that it wasn’t a conscious decision for Killer to be doing this, when before he was more of an annoying nuisance chasing trouble.

Eventually, after much too long spent inside of his own body being unable to prevent himself from harming other monsters, Nightmare decided to return the both of them to the castle, before removing his influence from Killer’s soul.

It was a calculated return, seeing as Nightmare broke the pattern and made Killer torture a lonely Toriel to death in the Ruins, the blood and dust from the wounds Nightmare had touched Killer’s own hands to make still covering most of his body, mainly from the splatters.

Killed dropped instantly to his hands and knees as he heaved several times, before losing the battle to vomit.

Determination and spent magic mixed on the floor, the scent of blood and the taste of dust making Killer eject even more magic, coughing as he scraped his phalange into the stone beneath him.

“Do we understand one another now?” Nightmare asked.

“Yes…” Killer tasted the tang of copper in his mouth. Blood had slid down the side of his skull to his teeth. Dry heaving for a moment, Killer struggled to get it under control, bitterly keeping his sockets on the floor. “Yes, boss.”

“I trust there won’t be any further issues going forward then?”

“No, boss.” 

“I doubt it.” Nightmare icily stated. “Or have you forgotten that, even without you speaking, I can read your emotions as easily as if you had?”

Killer went rigid.

“I will give you this opportunity to spend as much time as you would like within this lust ‘verse.” Nightmare created a portal as he spoke. “While you are there, I want you to think carefully about what you answer will be to this question.”

Killer didn’t move.

Nightmare was suddenly gone from sight.

“Will you carry out your missions as I give them to you without your unnecessary resistance to your place here, or will I use your worthless body to carry them out via magic until you are rendered nothing but dust once your bones and soul give out on you?” Nightmare’s voice was directly behind Killer.

The empt socketed monster remained perfectly in place, barely drawing any breath.

“When you have your answer, you will go wait in an empty area of the park for me to retrieve you.” Nightmare crowded in from behind, tendrils lightly playing along Killer’s trembling form while one of the guardian’s hands slid up under Killer’s jaw to scrape claws lightly along bone. “I do not care at this point what your answer is. It is merely a tactical decision on my part, to know which you choose, so that I may alter my plans accordingly.” The claws moved away as the guardian’s hand loosely wrapped around Killer’s neck, tendrils locked around Killer’s wrists and legs to prevent him from trying to step away or try to pry Nightmare’a hand away.

Killer didn’t dare try to move.

“If your answer is to accept that this is now your place in the multiverse, then these attacks of yours toward me end. Refuse to obey, and you will not only become a source of negativity for me, but you will also be carrying out missions while your mind remains trapped inside your own body while it obediently follows the instructions given, like I’ve just demonstrated to you.” The cyan eye light burned ferociously into the back of Killer’s skull. “Do I make myself clear?”

Killer’s soul clenched with discomfort over the thought of being forced without end to do what Nightmare wanted while being unable to control his own body but be forced to witness it all. Killer trembled as Nightmare let go of him and stepped away, instantly collapsing again to retch out any lingering magic lodged in his false throat, followed by several dry heaves; it was answer enough for the guardian.

“Good. You do understand. Now get out of my sight.” Nightmare growled. 

“…Yes boss.” Killer weakly rasped out, shakily getting to his feet and limped through the portal, body heavy with exhaustion, and his mind wracked with regret, grief, panic and fear over the earlier manipulation, and the ultimatum. 

Once the portal closed behind him, Killer collapsed, covered in blood and dust, into an unconscious heap.

~

There’s a brief stirring from passing out when Killer rose out of the cloying darkness and heaviness of exhaustion from being pushed too far upon someone maneuvering his limp body. He twitched, thinking someone had come across him to drag him off somewhere to torment him. And the best Killer could do was let out a weak pathetic growl of warning, hands twitching uselessly at his sides.

”Hey, hey, it’s okay.” A muffled voice soothed, adjusting the way Killer was being held. “S’just me. Allure, remember me, buddy?”

Killer’s fingers twitched.

”Looks like you got into a bad spot again.”

Killer felt the heaviness beginning to drag him back under. He fought against the sensation as he let out a groan of discomfort upon realizing he was still tacky with blood and had dusty grit in the joints of his phalange.

”Don’t worry, not gonna leave you out here. Still a bit nippy out here even without the snow.” Allure seemed to not be sure where to hold him. “Where are you injured?”

“M’not.” Killer slurred out. A pause at the twitch from Allure’s own hands. “Boss’ got unpleasant magic tricks.”

”Yeah?”

”Can trap ya in your head and make you do shit you don’t want to.” Killer shivered involuntarily, barely feeling the way Allure dragged him into his arms. 

“Can’t leave?”

”Nope.” Killer felt Allure gather him closer and added. “I can stick around for longer this time.”

”Then stop talking and go back to sleep.” Allure said firmly. “Your soul is really dim.” 

Killer figured as much now that he was able to somewhat process what he had been forced to do. Killer released a long, worn out sigh as he allowed himself to be dragged back into the darkness of unconsciousness, the last piece of coherency latching onto the fact that his skull had been leaned up against something, feeling a warm pulse from the other monster’s soul.

There were no dreams.

No nightmares.

Only the darkness between one blink and the next as Killer slowly woke up. It was a slow endeavor, but he forced himself to become aware sooner than needed, to be sure of what he’d experienced before passing out again. The target soul wavered slightly; the red was dimmer than before, and there was a hairline fracture along his healed over scar of a crack.

Movement nearby.

Killer tensed then relaxed as he recognized Allure’s presence, and this allowed him to take on his surroundings. He was on sofa in Allure and Hex’s living room, and Killer was bundled up in blankets with a bunch of pillows around to provide padding for comfort. Before he could protest about making the bedding dirty, Killer noticed that he was no longer covered in blood and dust; he was now wearing some soft pajama shirt and pants.

Allure was humming absently nearby, but it petered off as he seemed to realize Killer was no longer asleep.

“Hey.”

”Hey.” Killer returned weakly. “Whoops?”

Allure smiled sadly at him like he knew Killer was covering up a lot of hurt and pain with that single word. But at the very least, the phrase had drawn out some amusement from the lust ‘verse monster as he responded lightly. “Remind me to get you a phone.”

”Heh.” Killer recalled the stupid thing he’d told Allure the first time he’d left. “Sure.”

No other words are said after that, even if Killer wanted so desperately to say so many things. To tell Allure exactly what he had gotten into since there was no one else Killer could talk to.

Don’t ask questions.

Don’t get involved.

Don’t get hurt.

Killer raised his head from the pillow, black ichor sliding down his cheekbone as he turned his skull to meet Allure’s gaze. The other Sans’ expression was all Killer needed to see that  Allure wasn’t going to do the smart thing to keep himself alive and off Nightmare’s radar.

Stubborn bastard.

Just like him.

Chapter Text

Killer hadn’t expected the amount of kindness he was shown while he recuperated within the lust ‘verse.

Most of the days following his arrival, Allure provided quiet companionship, and as the days passed, lighthearted banter resumed once the other Sans could tell that Killer was recovered for the most part.

Physically, anyway. 

Killer struggled mentally the moment he’d come to after passing out on the sofa.

He wasn’t alone.

“-And then I had to clean you up, but not before removing those grimy clothes of yours off your person.”  Hex shuddered, recalling the past few hours, now that Killer was able to take in the conversation.  “Worse than my brother’s errant sock that has somehow made its home in our living room permanent.” 

Killer did his best to prevent a flush of self-consciousness, not having been fully conscious of the fact that someone else had seen the state of his bones with all the scars, left visible or left burned into his mind by Nightmare’s forceful healing. Then again, Hex and Allure had both seen him barebones before, on the day Killer had first met Hex.

”-can’t believe the two of you combined make that damned mutt that constantly steals my special attacks look like a minor problem! You two somehow managed to make the house a mess with greasy food bags and clothes in the past hour. And how, I ask, without my knowledge when I was making a perfectly acceptable meal?”

It had been a damn good burger.

“And added to that? Another pet rock! Brother! I hear you laughing up there. This is no laughing matter!” Hex dramatically gestured in the direction of the table against the nearby wall, presumably for Killer’s benefit. “How are we to care for another pet rock when our first refuses to eat its sprinkles with the second one’s presence? And the sock, brother, the sock now has a cohort. I can’t believe it but there’s a third rock that appeared this very morning and I demand to know what shenanigans are afoot-“

Killer automatically zoned out during Hex’s tirade, though a hint of fondness briefly rose and fell; it’d been some time since he’d been on the receiving end of an earnest ‘Papyrus’ lecture.

(He missed his brother)

(Killer didn’t deserve to miss someone he’d dusted so many times)

Killer tuned back in, Hex having gone back to his tattered clothing. Killer didn’t mind; they were in terrible condition but he refused to wear the clothing in his ‘room’ in the castle on the assumption they were from dusted monsters and destroyed aus where the owner of the clothing was no more.

“-you do a terrible job of cleaning your clothes, though I assume that it is because you are not able to have the time to do so with what you are…forced to do by your…employer.  But when it comes to the bones of your hands-“

The embarrassment Killer experienced eased as the achingly familiar griping continued. Killer nearly found a smile at the edge of his teeth when Hex wound down on his lament about skeleton monster hygiene, preceded by a sigh.

“…my brother would have helped with the disaster your hands had become, had he not already been frantically look for clothes that aren’t so…revealing. So I did my best to get everything out of all the cracks and fractures along your metacarpal and phalange. Dust and blood are unhygienic. It’s a wonder you didn’t have your leylines  of magic become infected, but now they won’t have a chance, because I was very careful to ensure the dust and other bits were gone before bandaging.” Hex glanced over his shoulder at Allure, who had just chosen that moment to come down the staircase with an armful of black, pink, white and teal colors.

Killer was grateful for the interruption; Hex’s certainty with taking care of his wounds was making him feel an emotion of gratefulness and it confused him. But then again, Hex was a Papyrus. It made sense one would want to make sure a Sans took care of themself.

(He missed his brother. Killer’s brother harped on him taking better care of himself, the last few resets) 

“…never did get the chance to ask if you were comfortable wearing the kinda clothing I tend to, even temporarily.” Allure resolutely stated, walking over to the other side of the sofa.

Killer sat up, belatedly realizing that he had a towel wrapped around his hip bones and another draped over his shoulders.  

“I found some of my older clothing, and a few other things that aren’t as…extravagant and over the top.” Allure didn’t quite meet Killer’s sockets.

“If I looked half as good as you do in those clothes, then it wouldn’t be so bad. But uh, let’s just say there’s some other reasons I don’t feel up to wearing ‘em.” Killer responded, looking down at his beaten-up, cracked and bandages hands before he perked up at the sight of the clothing.

Allure’s skull turned the slightest bit at this.

“Damn, you got some walk-in closet?” With different colored magic than before and his high self-loathing, Killer knew his confidence had tanked greatly. So looking at clothing was safer than examining that little issue. Killer noted the tamer clothing; a mix of tanks, t-shirts, pullovers, shorts and pants.  “Damn, you got to. Lookit all this.” Killer admired how soft everything looked. “Nice. You got a lotta things to choose from. Definitely have a place for all those jackets of yours too.”

The other Sans now directly faced Killer with a neutral expression.

“Ya know…” Absently reaching out to pet the corner of a shirt, Killer lifted his head to meet wary cyan eye lights.  “Regardless of my comfort level…that doesn’t mean you have to dress down too.  Hell, dress however you want.”  Killer waved a hand, winced, then set it down on a femur.  “Like I said before, it’s your home au. And your literal house. You should be comfortable and not all stiff like ya are right now.” 

Allure stared at Killer quietly for a long moment before heading back upstairs, only to return with more clothing options. He then sent a swift glance at Hex, who’d remained silent during the one-sided exchange. Then, squaring his shoulders, Allure swept back up the stairs and into a small room into the one attached next to it.

Hex’s attention lingered on the space his brother had been before shifting to Killer with a thoughtful hum.

Killer avoided the gaze when it fell on him for longer than comfortable as he sifted through the offered clothing on the sofa next to him more closely.

Eventually, Hex went to the kitchen to allow Killer some privacy. The empty-socketed monster ended up choosing a simple black and pink tie-dyed swirled T-shirt with a pair of black shorts.

It was all he really needed, since he had his socks and shoes on the floor next to the sofa.

Killer would hopefully get his jacket back later.  

Once he’d dressed, Killer leaned back into the sofa, staring blankly at a wall while determination sluggishly dripped from his sockets.

A grimace.

He’d never found out if the stuff would stain colored clothing.

Eh.

Allure wouldn’t have offered the clothing if he didn’t think there was a chance it would stain.

Maybe.

Killer needed to stop overthinking.

Minutes or hours could have passed before Killer finally ventured over to join the other two skeletons in the kitchen. Plopping down on a chair, Killer noted that Allure had changed his outfit to a teal crop top and a pair of black leather pants.

Killer’s earlier words must have stuck, since from that day going forward, Allure began to wear all manner of clothing that exposed his body, from more crop tops to halters to silky, slinky pieces covering very little to booty shorts and tight, tight pants of all kinds.

It was clear, as the days passed, that Allure was, in fact, much more comfortable while wearing tighter or revealing clothing, along with all the variations of his jackets to toss over whatever he wore whenever he pleased.  Allure even summoned his ecto on occasion, though this was usually only done when his magic had built up too much, and he had to manifest it to burn off the excess.

Killer assumed that since he never made any passes at Allure in a sexual way, it helped the other Sans immensely in wearing all of his different outfits with a confident air while around him.  And honestly? Killer only felt appreciation toward the apparel Allure wore for the variety of clothing that Allure had accumulated.  But seeing the extent of the wardrobe after a few weeks living with Hex and Allure (it was an entire room next to the lust verse Sans’ bedroom) made Killer painfully aware that he would never have anything like it in his life.  He was living vicariously, in a way, through seeing how carefree Allure was when he wore something new, and the flush of happiness and preening that came when Killer complimented the other’s appearance. 

Then, one day, Allure presented Killer with fingerless black gloves.

There was no reason given.

No occasion for it, as it wasn’t even said to be a gift.

All Allure did was prance in through the front door, lay over the back of the sofa to linger over Killer’s shoulder once the other saw him, then dropped the gloves on his lap.  Allure then gave Killer’s shoulder a gentle, wordless squeeze. Then, Allure practically danced away as Killer took a playful swipe at him with a pillow in retaliation to the ‘attack.’

Killer gleefully accepted the gloves as he picked them up to inspect them, aware of Allure watching him from a distance. The empty socketed monster was amused with humans and the way they’d butcher perfectly good gloves.  They were buttery soft leather from the texture, but when Killer tugged the fingerless gloves over his hands, Killer noted the soft interior of the gloves were slightly padded, relieving some aching in his sore metacarpal and higher, while hiding some of the more tender injuries that were fading into scars on the back of his hands. Killer stared at the gloves, rubbing phalange lightly over them, and noting the subtle aster design near the inside on the wrist on the palm side and some tiny Wingdings scrawled discreetly along the one of the stems of the asters.

’Whoops’ 

Killer didn’t know what to make of the strangled laugh he let out. His lack of phone and the ‘code’ he’d offhandedly told Allure seemed like it was going to haunt him, but in this instance, the idea just made Killer feel almost…happy, to have a silly inside joke with someone.

Allure let him be, since they didn’t need to speak to tell when the other was having an emotion and needed some space. Reading faces and expressions could be useful at times.

Later that night, while watching some nonsense on TV, Killer was still absently petting the fingerless gloves. Allure joined him on the sofa closer to midnight, absently hugging himself in silence as he stared blankly the TV at something Killer couldn’t see.

Bad day at work, most likely.

Killer got that look more often as of late. The target soul wobbled as Killer thought about tracking down Hex. Killer then just scooted his bony ass over to absently lean into Allure’s right side to draw him out of his thoughts. When he felt Allure’s attention shift, Killer silently flexed the fingers of one hand in silent thanks for the unspoken gift.

Allure craned his skull to the side to study Killer’s face, before hesitantly unwrapping his arms from around himself to lightly pat Killer’s nearest femur. Then, with a slow hesitation of twitching phalange, Allure left his hand there, so Killer could decide what to do about it.

Killer couldn’t tell if this was some weird test or not but since Allure so kindly provided an excuse for him, he was going to have some fun. He turned it into a game of seeing whose hand could remain on top for the longest. He set his hand on top of Allure’s and sent an expectant gaze.

The lust verse monster was clearly baffled at first until Killer demonstrated the sudden game he’d come up with.

Keeping careful watch of Allure’s expressions, Killer turned his body toward him, and used his free hand to gently hold Allure’s to set it on his other hand. Then, Killer set his hand on top of Allure’s, before looking at the other expectantly again.

Allure’s teeth twitched at the sides, uncertain, before looked down to move his hand on top of Killer’s femur out from beneath the other’s. Then, glancing at Killer’s slowly growing grin, Allure set his hand on top of Killer’s. Allure jumped when Killer abruptly freed his hand now on his femur to lightly clack against Allure’s on top.

A silence.

”Okay?” Killer asked.

In answer, Allure freed and lightly slapped down his hand, a smile of his own growing tentatively. It grew more genuine the longer the two of them played this silly game of ‘keep your hand on top of your other hand and your opponent’s two’.

It was stupid.

It was ridiculous, but Allure was relaxing as he became engaged in the silliness.

This made Killer feel proud of himself for once.

Allure was obviously amused with the nonsensical game, but Killer caught the sadness mixed in. Not for Allure, but Killer himself. Especially once Killer leaned harder into the other Sans’ right side for leverage to proudly ‘win’ the game by keeping his left hand over his own right, and both of Allure’s, grinning triumphantly. He hadn’t noticed the thinner tracks of determination sliding down his cheekbones nor the hazy eye light in his left socket and the almost monster soul shape the target shifted to.

The impromptu game ended when the two let go of one another.

Because of missing his soul shape and appearance of his hazy eye light, Killer didn’t quite understand why Allure wrapped his arms around him to press in close for a hug. But Killer didn’t move away from it, even if he only awkwardly returned the hug with one arm. But Killer figured out why Allure sought out comfort (though why him?) in that moment, as Killer heard shuddering breaths from the other Sans.

Nothing was said.

Killer didn’t have to be a judge to know that Allure was experiencing an emotion of some kind that didn’t sit with the worldview he’d become accustomed to in his home au.

Killer understood.

He felt that way most days in the castle, ever since Nightmare had taken him away from his dead au. When Killer was allowed to have an emotion, that is. And sometimes, even when he could, Killer chose to ignore it.

Killer wasn’t an idiot. He knew Allure was also upset that Killer’s ‘boss’ often rendered him emotionless, even if Killer had five it to himself in the first place in his dead au, being driven near mad with the determination and Chara’s torment before.

…he didn’t deserve sympathy, after the choices he’d made.

~

A month and a half.

It took that long for Killer to make up his mind about what he was going to say to Nightmare.

As if it were even a choice to begin with.

What a laugh.

Killer already knew what his answer would be day one, and yet…it had taken over a month for Killer to finally acknowledge that he wanted to live freely, as much as he was allowed to, that is. To not have his body to be puppeted forcefully against his will by Nightmare even again.  Killer also wanted to selfishly soak up as much contact as he could with monsters who didn’t want to hurt him, even if that meant all his time was spent with just Allure and Hex.

It was enough. 

More than enough.

Nightmare must have already known what Killer’s eventual answer would be, if the guardian hadn’t bothered to reach out for him in his sleep to torment his dreams. Nor did Nightmare show up in the shadows to make Killer feel as if he were running out of time.

He knew.

Nightmare knew already that Killer wouldn’t want to lose even more control over his life than he already had.

Again, Error’s words from what felt like so long ago echoed. Do as Nightmare wanted, and he would leave you alone once you followed his orders.

Killer would always hate his true it was. Killer would never fully accept his life the way it was now. But Killer had to admit, at least to himself, that he would never be able to run away, since Nightmare would always be able to find him. Right now, Killer had to admit to himself that he was afraid of Nightmare taking full control of his life and forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do until his body gave out and Nightmare tossed him aside like a broken toy.

Fear.

Pain.

Loss of control.

It was fucked up that that was all it took for Killer to give in. To admit defeat in this situation, despite wanting to scream in fury at the unfairness of it all.

But the longer Killer had spent in Allure’s au, if he kept coming back, he knew and understood that Allure and Hex would be in further danger with each visit.  There was no telling when Nightmare would catch on, if he hadn’t already, that Killer had found something much more important here in this au than fucking someone.

Killer couldn’t risk bringing danger to Allure’s au.

As much as he loathed the idea of denying himself any semblance of normalcy, Killer would have to avoid coming here but for rare instances. Once Killer was back in that shitty castle, Nightmare would undoubtedly and very smugly begin ordering him about, just because the guardian knew how difficult this was for Killer.

Nightmare was well aware that Killer hated being unable to control the course of his own life. It would be nothing to Nightmare to take advantage of that by threatening to entirely remove that small amount of freedom away.

Killer’s sockets closed wearily, magic churning over the idea of being within that negative aura once more. Empty sockets stared at the wall from where from where Killer sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room aka Allure’s bedroom.

The lust ‘verse Sans had taken to sleeping in the living room on the sofa the past month and a half, even if Killer didn’t care one way or another about sharing a bed. But considering the au, Killer respected the other Sans’ decision on where to sleep.

At present, Killer was dressed and even had his jacket back, laundered nearly back to the point of being spotless. A fingerless gloved hand traced the fur-lined hood fluffed up-an addition he appreciated as if reminded him of Allure’s fluff trimmed jackets.

He ought to leave.

Leave, before he couldn’t.

Nightmare would be forced to track him down if Killer didn’t ever make a ‘decision’.

Damnit.

Fucking bastard.

With a grim set of his jaw, Killer stood up and stepped into the hallway, nearly walking straight into Hex.  The empty-socketed monster avoided looking at the other monster, but he allowed Hex to gather him close into a loose hug. Killer’s stupid soul shifted briefly to a monster soul before flickering back into a target.

(he missed Papyrus)

“Be careful with my brother.”  Hex murmured worriedly.  “He may seem indifferent when he comes home from the club, but I know otherwise, and so do you.”  The Papyrus’ arms briefly tightened around Killer before letting go as Hex stepped back and turned in the direction of his own bedroom.  “If you aren’t going to come back, whether for an extended amount of time, or at all…you will let us know?”

“I…”  Killer sighed, then straightened up as he glanced toward the staircase.  “I will if I can, Paps.” Both Killer and Hex ignored the slip-up. “Though no promises, since my boss can be…well...”

Hex made an understanding hum despite Killer not finishing his sentence. With a slow sigh, Hex reached out to grasp Killer’s shoulder lightly, before letting go. 

Killer heard receding footsteps, followed by a door being closed. He didn’t like to make promises, but he would try, for Hex and Allure.

(he didn’t keep his promise before)

With a slow sigh, Killer made his way down the staircase, only to tense up partway to the front door when he caught a small lightshow going on.  Killer caught sight of Allure writhing silently on the sofa, soft hitches of breaths and stifled sobs rising out from him.

A nightmare.

Allure hugged himself, blanket sliding off to the floor as tears trailed down his cheekbones, breath hitching again as discomforted, fearful noises began to sound.

Killer hesitated, then slowly shuffled over to the sofa to retrieve the blanket. He carefully draped it back over the fitfully sleeping monster and made certain it didn’t make the nightmare worse. Another brief moment of stillness, before Killer sank to the floor alongside the sofa, holding a pillow to his chest as he clumsily attempted to think how to reassure Allure without waking him and having another awkward conversation he’d rather avoid.

Allure curled up beneath the blanket into a tighter bundle of now-rattling bones.

Killer’s soul wasn’t exactly open to a sort of sentiment to offer comfort, having not experienced much of it himself. But Killer found he could project a kind of intent to assure the other Sans he was safe and not in danger. Surprisingly, despite the clumsiness of Killer’s soul attempting to pulse out soothing intentions, Killer actually succeeded in helping Allure calm down.

Tears slowly came to a halt as Allure sagged beneath the blanket with a choked sob before the tension left his body.

Killer watched the other for a moment longer, before getting to his feet. Then, he mutely held the pillow in front of Allure when he saw the other’s arms move, hands out from beneath the blanket, as if searching for something to hold.

Allure latched onto the pillow and settled into a deeper sleep.

Killer made for the door again, only to stop again when he heard clattering bones. A swift few steps brought Killer to a linen closet and back. Killer proceeded to tuck more blankets in around Allure, checking if it was acceptable with each one lest the other Sans feel more trapped.

Eventually, Allure’s shivering ended as he subconsciously squeezed the pillow close to nuzzle his face into it as he issued a slow exhale.

Killer stared down at him for a time. With a slow exhale, Killer finally took his leave from the house, shoving his hands deeply into jacket pockets. As he walked down an empty sidewalk, a scowl settled onto Killer’s face as what he now faced rose up to the forefront of his mind.

Damn Nightmare and his fucking ultimatums.

Killer knew where he would much rather be, but he wouldn’t be able to spend much more time with Allure in the future without risking bringing disaster and pain down on him and Hex if Killer tried to resist Nightmare’s plans for him.

~

It was quiet.

Allure was all alone when he woke up but knew immediately that someone had been there. He was wrapped up in more blankets than before and was nearly spooning the king-sized pillow that he held in his arms. Allure could sense the intent soaked into the pillow, which gave Allure a sense of safety that came from the intent. When he looked closer at the pillow, Allure saw some black stains on part of the pillow.

Killer had that kind of color that trailed down from his sockets.

The ‘safe’ intent...it matched what Allure had sensed from Killer before, when the empty-socketed monster felt calmer and less stressed; when Killer was open to letting Allure in, as a way for them both to get some comfort from one another.

…Killer obviously had difficulty recalling how to reassure someone when he clearly didn’t have any experience apart from his interactions with Allure and Hex. Therefore, Killer didn’t understand the subtle nuances, but it was clear enough. 

Allure held the pillow closer to bask in that intent of safety.

It was very sweet that Killer to try to reassure with intent, when he didn’t appear to have had very many positive experiences interacting with others, if at all (or if Killer had, it had been a long, long time ago-long enough he'd almost forgotten).

Allure pressed his face into the squishy pillow as he snerked wetly into it, before a hugging it tightly to himself.

He appreciated the small act of kindness.

The pillow smelled faintly of Killer too, but surprisingly, Allure only experienced comfort and nothing of a sexual nature.

It’s like a breath of fresh air.

It had been so long since Allure could just take comfort from something or someone without it becoming sexual. Allure raised hazy cyan eye lights to the living room window, where the sun was just beginning to rise.

It was obvious that Killer left, no doubt due to his asshole of a boss.

Allure buried his face into the pillow. He hoped that Killer would be all right, whether Allure got to see him again or not.

~

The neighborhood Allure lived in was quiet.

Killer couldn't enjoy the peace of the silence and the rising sun.

Not with where he was going back to.

Who he was going back to.

After Nightmare’s previous demonstration of taking control and the time Killer spent on the lust ‘verse, Killer knew that he already made up his mind the moment he had arrived in this au. If Killer was allowed this temporary relief in another universe, while retaliation grew against Nightmare within the multiverse, then Killer wanted to be in control of himself and his actions, to the best of his ability. Despite Nightmare saying otherwise, Killer knew that the goopy bastard would prefer he have more agency over his missions, in order to collect information and to provide longer-lasting negativity.

It wasn’t a choice at all, with what the alternative was, but Killer would take what he was given, even if he didn’t want it.

Coward.

He was a coward, but he wasn’t a fool.

Killer knew that Nightmare would make good on the threat to exert control over his body and soul again; to force Killer to act without consent. If that ever happened again, Killer could only hope that someone out there in the multiverse could stop him and put an end to this terrible life he'd fallen prey to. With a heaviness in his soul, Killer went to a place in the wilderness that no human or monster would wander to.

And waited.

And waited some.

It took four days of loitering in the wilderness until Nightmare finally decided to 'retrieve' him.

The moment the portal swirled into existence, a wrongness and negativity manifest trailing up his spine, Killer stepped through without looking back.  Once he exited into the castle foyer, Killer wasted no time in shortcutting straight to the office door out of the fear in the back of his mind that Nightmare might try to take control of should he be too slow.  Despite being made to wait, Killer unfortunately knew that Nightmare would not wait for him to show his face.  No matter if Killer tried to hide away in the castle, Nightmare would likely just form a portal wherever he was, and drag him through it with a frigid, impatient tendril.  Killer clenched a fist against his shorts as Nightmare made him wait at least ten minutes more, despite knowing damn well he was just on the other side of the door.  Finally, the goopy jackass decided to speak.

"Enter."

Killer opened the door and stepped inside.

Nightmare stared impassively.

Killer looked back in return, thinking he could have done with a few months more of not seeing the guardian.

"I see you have deigned to return."  The cyan eye light bored into Killer.  "What is your decision?"

So, Nightmare was going to make Killer spell it out, when he knew that the other could already sense his distant if there emotions giving him a clear answer.

Nightmare said nothing.

He merely waited, as if he held all the time in the world. There was even an expectant, hint of a grin, indicating that Nightmare enjoyed witnessing Killer struggle with vocally accepting what he didn’t want. What Killer didn't want, but had no choice but to choose, should he wish for some agency within his life, however little it was.

”…I’ll go on the missions.” Killer finally muttered his ‘choice’ as if it were even one to begin with. “…and…and follow your orders.”

“I did not hear you.” Tendrils idly swung. “Speak clearly.”

Killer grit his teeth, knowing again that Nightmare demanded the repeat, even though he damn well knew the answer whether or not Killer said it.

He must have waited for too long to repeat when one of the tendrils suddenly shot out to seize him around the neck to drag Killer partially onto the desk. Nightmare gripped him painfully by the underside of his jaw.  A mistake followed, which solidified Killer's decision to not hesitate any longer.

He tried to jerk away from the touch.

Nightmare's tendril stilled around Killer's cervical vertebrae as the cold gaze fixed itself on Killer's own vacant one. 

When pressure increased on his jaw, bone making a painful cracking noise as Nightmare's claws dug in, Killer immediately went limp, the pain temporarily pushing away any other thought.

A month and a half of safety.

It was over now.

This was his reality once more, and any further resistance would likely make Nightmare not bother to hear any further words out of Killer.

He hated this.

Killer hated the helplessness and unfairness of it all.

Nightmare regarded Killer with a quiet once over.

Killer didn't dare even breathe right now as the tendril flexed, as if to tighten, but didn't.

"I told you to repeat yourself clearly." Nightmare stated as the agonizing grip he held on to the underside of Killer's jaw lightened.  The guardian's expression made it clear that further agony would be inflicted should Killer not answer favorably.

“I’ll follow your orders for the missions.” Killer dully repeated the words, rearranged, in a louder tone. Shame and anger burned within Killer’s soul when that damned tendril around his neck pat the end of it on top of his skull.  Killer felt further anger but swallowed it down when Nightmare tossed him across the room, slamming him into the wall alongside the door.  Killer didn't bother getting up with the shadows in the room darkened.

Instead of terrorizing Killer any further, however, Nightmare merely briefed him on a new mission, while enjoying whatever humiliation still lingered within Killer. Nightmare held himself utterly still, tentacle ends sharpened during the ‘meeting’ and the cyan eye zeroed in on Killer at all times was another story.

Killer knew that the guardian was waiting for.Nightmare expected him to lash out over the unfairness of all of this.

But Killer didn’t dare.

As much as he’d like to see how much damage Nightmare could take before any real injury could be done, Killer wouldn't risk that being the last thing he did under his own power.

And Nightmare knew it, once the tentacles lowered and began to idly swing.

It was just as well that Nightmare created another portal once was done briefing Killer on what he expected of him on this mission in particular. If the guardian hadn’t, Killer may have screwed up his chance to retain some very limited freedom, if it could even be called that.

The first thing Killer did once the portal was shut behind him was to turn and punch a nearby tree with so much force that he broke his hand.

It hurt.

Killer issued out a mad little giggle as his target soul wavered unevenly.

It hurt, but not as much as the fact that he couldn't do a damn thing but obey Nightmare lest he want to be puppeted around.

The broken hand twinged.

It hurt.

Another, less stable laugh.

It would always hurt, wouldn't it?

This was what Killer deserved for what he'd done in his now-gone home au.

~

As days turned into weeks with no breaks, Killer began to slip into a state of automatic reaction.

It began to be less painful when the target-souled monster didn’t have to think about how little control he held over his life. Or how indifferent he was beginning to become once more to those around him. Killer became further numb to the atrocities, the fear and the unrest he caused within alternate universes, to spare that tiny speck of his soul that continued to desperately cry out for mercy. To cry out to anyone that could being an end to this cruel existence.

But no one came.

No one but Nightmare, once Killer had made his ‘choice’.

When Killer felt too many emotions, Nightmare was there to deaden them.

When Killer hesitated, Nightmare would further squash any feeling being experienced upon Killer's return to the castle.

When Nightmare demanded he come with him, Killer went without question.

When the guardian sent him on a mission, Killer went without complaint.

When Nightmare demanded Killer use KR, he did, even if it wasn’t as useful and only worked in fell aus, if at all.  

Killer obeyed while continuing to hate what was happening on the inside. From Nightmare’s expressions, the guardian knew it this well.  Nightmare even began to cruelly allow Killer to experience his emotions fully while out on a mission, only to then rip the despair and rawness away once Killer returned.

Not once had Nightmare allowed him to go back to Allure’s au.

It pained Killer in a way, to be torn from a calmer universe. To be prevented from being in more pleasant company. But Killer did not once complain, lest Nightmare decide it was time to go after that particular au.

Nightmare would have to force control over Killer’s soul to make that happen.

Even then, no matter howe futile, Killer would fight it every step of the way.

But right now?

Emotions were the most difficult for Killer to wrangle, since they often got in the way of his missions.

Killer made do, but this could only work for so long.

Soon, Killer began to slip up during his missions.  Missing information he would have otherwise found, or being discovered by the resident au monsters, when he should have remained hidden. Eventually, the mistakes added up as Killer did not perform as well as expected of him, and this was when Nightmare decided to change things up. The guardian slowly began to allow Killer to retreat within an apathetic mood, his soul a firm target after being deadened to his emotions bit by bit. The general dislike toward Nightmare remained, along with Killer’s faint trace of unhappiness over helping menace the aus.

Nightmare decided to allow more and more for Killer to be without a range of emotions, which caused his target soul to become unstable. It was very likely that Nightmare anticipated that this would make Killer more efficient, but there was an unforeseen consequence, though one the guardian of negativity approved of.

The periods of time where Killer lost himself and attacked anyone within his range. It didn't matter if it the monsters in any given au happened to want Nightmare and his negativity there or not.  It got to the point where Killer started to not recall what happened during some missions.

But he sure did hear about the way Nightmare actually had to directly intervene in a few cases.

How even the guardian's orders didn't get through to Killer, and Nightmare himself had to reign Killer in at those times.  Nightmare obviously had no desire to make further work for himself to get any au back under his control.  So, he made sure that Killer didn't murder those particular residents and turn them against the guardian of negativity.

If Killer had known about this, he would have laughed in Nightmare’s face before accepting whatever consequence that came of that particular action.  He honestly couldn't care less about the inconvenience he might cause Nightmare. But what did matter was whatever Killer had done during those times he blacked out.

Whatever happened had resulted in Nightmare giving him free rein of the castle. And not only that, Killer also received a small device that would create a portal for him to go to and from Allure’s au freely, so long as Killer appeared for missions when Nightmare called for him (via a portal).

Killer trembled in place, his emotions distant as Nightmare left him standing in the foyer, a fingerless gloved hand carefully grasping the device. The target-souled monster eventually stared down blankly at the apparent portal-creating device.

What…had he done?

Killer realized that he couldn't remember what happened when he'd lost himself during some of his mission.  He continued to gaze helplessly at the device, distant emotions tugging at his solid red target of a soul.

What happened during those blackouts?

Killer's empty grin hitched higher, the only sign of distress he was allowed at present. What had he done for Nightmare to do something...beneficial, for Killer? Why would Nightmare suddenly allow Killer to go to Allure’s au whenever he wasn't out on missions?

What was the catch?

What did Nightmare know that Killer didn't? What wasn’t Nightmare wasn't telling him? Was it because it would be better to drop such information at a later time?

More importantly...

What in the fuck had Killer done without his knowledge? His EXP and LV hadn't risen, so what...

What happened?

Killer distantly, inwardly screamed in soul-crushing anguish over the possibilities. Of the idea that he had dusted other monsters without knowing it, making a repeat of what he'd eventually given in to doing in his own home au. Something he'd not wanted anything to do with anymore.  Outwardly, Killer stood unmoving in the foyer, his sockets vacant as determination freely spilled down and over a rictus grin.  Tears soon began to mix in unbidden.

What the fuck did Nightmare allow to happen while Killer had blacked out during some of his missions?

Chapter Text

Having an evening with nothing to do was a rarity, especially after Killer had returned from the lust au. 

It was as if Nightmare was expecting Killer to try to disobey; as if the freedom to do as he would in the lust au meant that Killer would be more liable to try and fight back.

Killer was extra careful to tamp down any lingering emotion to that.

Error was right.

Nightmare, once mollified about Killer doing as ordered, was content to leave him alone once those orders were carried through.

Killer didn't dare let his guard down, even in the quiet of the castle.

This, in turn, meant Killer couldn't truly enjoy the down time without knowing where that damned goopy negative bastard was lurking about. Not so long ago, when Killer last attempted to relax (as much as he was able to in this shithole of negativity choking him) Nightmare decided to make it a problem. A problem that involved Killer being rudely tossed through a portal into the middle of some skirmish.

Shit hurt.

Sometimes a lot.

Sometimes with enough intent that Killer really ought to have dusted.

Killer could have sworn that he still had a nasty scar on the back of his ribcage, mirroring the one the kid had given him time and time again throughout the resets.

He didn't look at the mirror.

Killer didn't look at any mirror.

The empty socketed monster didn't want to see the accumulation of scars in his bones or the amount of determination that flowed from his sockets.

The quiet was too much, these past few days.

It was like the calm before the storm, and Killer felt that it was only a matter of time before something happened.

This particular evening was especially tense, even though there was no sign of Nightmare.

Killer wandered around aimlessly, attempting to decide what to do when he wasn't currently 'needed' for anything.  Sure, he had that nifty device on hand that would create a portal. Yes, it would be smart to go somewhere where he wasn’t in danger constantly, Killer found that he struggled going to Allure’s au as often as he had before.  Killer had no doubt in his mind that there was already an invisible target on that au, for when Nightmare decided that he needed to make Killer suffer and be even more miserable than he already was.

Fucker.

Killer hated that he couldn't do anything to get out of this shit existence and found himself thinking that his dead au really wasn't as bad as he thought it was.  Sure, it was horrible to be reminded of the actions he had taken once he'd broken down after so many resets, but at least he wouldn't be having someone else manipulating him. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine. Despite Nightmare never exerting control over Killer's soul again to the extent he had before, the terrible experience was more than enough to keep him in line.

Mostly.

The other thing that held Killer more in line were the night terrors, which were worse than before.  The negativity the castle was mired in didn't help with a good night's sleep, and the bits and pieces that Killer did remember made him wonder if those had anything to do with missing memories.  Or if the nightmares Killer experienced were merely a combination of Nightmare making him suffer by reliving his old memories of his old au.

The negativity was particularly bad today.

More so than Killer recalled there being, even after he had ‘acclimated’ to it.

Had something else happened?

Killer wasn't sure why he thought of that.  Maybe it was just because that the past few missions, those who had been fine being aligned with Nightmare and his goal of spreading negativity decided that enough was enough and were trying to change the course of their au.

The guardian of negativity obviously wouldn't like that.

Killer was well aware of the fact.

Nightmare tended to take out his aggression on Killer after finding out another au had decided to no longer welcome him. Worse for Killer was when Nightmare was directly attacked by other au residents in retaliation when he wouldn't' take no for an answer.

That heavy negativity that day should have clued Killer in to the fact that he should have made himself scarce, for all the good it would do. 

The assault came from out of nowhere.

One moment Killer was half-thinking to go to the dining hall to grudgingly eat something and the next, he was set upon by a furious Nightmare. There was no way Killer could have possibly been prepared for the way those sharpened fangs bared right in front of his face, as cruel claws dug into Killer straight to the marrow of his ribs, scraping pained lines of blood down the bones.

There was a glint in that cyan eye light.

Cold.

Infuriated.

There were golden arrows sticking out of the guardian’s goop covered body, drawing cyan narrow from beneath.

So, the bastard could bleed.

Killer winced as a cold hand moved from his ribs to seize him around his cervical vertebrae, while the tendrils wrapped around an arm and around Killer's lower spine and constricted.

Before, there would have been resistance.

Before, Killer would have struggled trying to pry the hand away or futilely attempt to shove the tendrils.  Snarled something at the guardian or done something to try and make Nightmare stop.

But now?

It took everything in him to not react.

Killer trembled involuntarily but didn’t resist.

It would only hurt more.

As shitty as it was, Killer had to let Nightmare do as he pleased, no matter how much he hated it.

...the fear that lingered, wondering if he would finally just dust.

But that resolve to do nothing lest it be made worse broke the moment Nightmare suddenly touched Killer’s soul.  This not only drained him of his emotions, but Nightmare also apparently recovered from the wounds due to whatever he was siphoning off Killer.  But just as Killer thought he was going to be dangling uselessly and choking from the frigid touch around his neck, Nightmare dug his claws into vertebra, and forced Killer down into unconsciousness and plunged Killer straight into a vivid nightmarish reenactment of one of the missions Killer had missing from his memories.  

Killer fought desperately to avoid experiencing the memory as a tactile, vivid almost awake sensation. The fact Killer knew this forced dream was going to feel so real was what panicked him the most, and because of this, Killer struggled, almost violently, and he actually bared his teeth before choking in unseen pain as agony washed through his mind.

Apparently, resistance within a nightmarish conjuring of Nightmare’s choosing clocked as minor rebellion, as Killer's ability to try and distance himself from the nightmare was wrenched away.

It felt like he was dunked in ice-cold water as Killer suddenly 'woke up' within the landscape of something painfully familiar to him, even if the situation was not at all what he expected.

~

Killer felt himself move with purpose.

Despite this being a dream, something from the past, Killer can see what he couldn't before.

Darkness.

A jump in time.

He was fighting now.

A swap Sans, from the look of it.

Killer struggled to keep himself separate from what was happening, but it was too much, too real, and with mounting dread, he felt himself become that Killer, falling deeper and deeper into the memory turned nightmare and-

-the swap Sans still talks. 

Why is he still talking?

'Please! I'm sure we can come to an understanding!  Dream can help you!  I'm sure he will!  You don't have to keep working for Nightmare!'

Noise.

So loud. 

Noisy. 

He can make it quiet.

Was...was this Underswap Sans allied with Nightmare's adversary?

He's pushed back.

Killer attacks the movement in front of him.

Again and again and again, until the other monster finally succumbs to enough injuries where it won't escape.

The monster runs.

Killer pursues, since its still alive. His soul pulsates wildly; it keeps urging him to kill.

Dust.

Killer toys with the other monster, nicking it bit by bit with a knife.

Finally, Killer pins his prey, and catches one of the wrists. He angles the knife down and makes a slice.

A scream.

Another slice, another missing piece of phalange.

Killer starts a hum.

Screams are better than the incessant words.

Marrow  builds with each cut Killer makes, until he blinks to find the fingers are all gone.

The other monster makes pitiful noises and a panicked cry as Killer grips the ulna and radius as he carves off the metacarpals.  Killer shifts his body to keep the (swap) monster down.  By the time Killer slices through the humerus, he wonders idly why the monster isn't already dust.

Nightmare's doing?

...it's still making noise.

Killer moves on to its legs, swift and efficient.

A turn.

A rip of fabric.

Killer begins to carve off bits of the ribcage.

Ah.

There  was the dust.

The ribcage becomes a battered mess.

Another slice.

The spine connected to the sacrum falls away, and scatters into dust.

Killer gets distracted.

Soul pulsing.

Oh.

(Swap) monster whimpering in delirious fear, then screams in agony when Killer grips what's left of the spine below the ribcage.

'Papyrus!'

Killer resumes cutting through the ribs up to the lower part of the sternum.

'Papyrus!'  A few gasping noises. Further words choke off into quieter screams of unbearable agony.

Killer hums a  demented little tune as if he did not hear the screams.

Maybe he didn't.

The screams peter off into destroyed hitches of broken sob of acceptance, to the pathetic whimpers of disbelief over the cruelty.

Killer left the ribs alone, as well as the remainder of the spine and shoulder blades. Without warning, Killer drives his knife directly into the other monster's left socket and twisted.

A shriek of abject pain.

Killer repeats the action to the other socket but holds the knife still.

A breathless whimper.

Killer drags the knife down through the nasal cavity, then to the teeth. Killer yanks; the lower jaw is torn off to dust.

Wheezy breaths rise from the somehow still alive (swap) monster. 

Its soul reflects unimaginable agony-

-Killer struggled to break himself out of the memory, but it was useless. 

He felt the dust and blood on his hands, could hear the swap Sans' quiet hitch of breath, and see the pain the tortured monster was in.

Make it stop.

No one was interfering.

Did Nightmare force Error to close off the au to all but its residents?

Killer felt his soul clench over the sight of the Swap papyrus stepping out of a shortcut, only to realize what was happening.

What had happened.

Killer floundered within his own memory.

Make it stop...

Make it stop!

Killer couldn't...

He didn't want to see the way he was sure Swap Papyrus would know instantly that he's too late to save his brother.  That the swap Sans is already dead at this point.

Killer didn't want to see-

-that there is another monster.

Something else to kill.

Killer tilts his skull at the murderous intent that centers on him.  Killer barely looks in that direction as he slams the other monster through with blue attacks. 

(swap) monster bleeds as it dusts bit by bit.

Killer twists the knife in hand, then rams it directly into the soul.

It shatters.

The monster breathes something out, then vanishes within dust.

Killer hears a shout.

The taller monster fights the blue attacks, despite the damage.

A portal appears.

Killer half turns.

A tentacle lashes out.

Killer stares at it.

A flinch, when the tentacle curves around his target soul.

Killer's knees buckle.

A faint trace of awareness trickles in.

Killer stumbles through the portal, and hears the tall monster shout at him as the portal closes and-

Killer was wrenched from reliving a night terror of the recent past, giving him only a few moments to collect himself.

That swap Sans.

Killer dazedly hung from Nightmare's grasp; the guardian's fingers cinched tight around his vertebrae.

That Swap Papyrus.  He'd told Killer that he would track him down, no matter how long it took, for taking his brother away from him.  That Killer would be lucky if the guardian of positivity chose to show him mercy for what he'd done to Blue.

This made Killer wonder, under Nightmare's crazed, gleaming cyan eye light, if that meant that Killer had inadvertently dusted a Swap Sans allied with Nightmare's adversary?

From that uncomfortable retelling of a lost memory, it certainly seemed so.

Was this why Nightmare was presently tormenting him? Had Nightmare's adversary retaliated in response to the death?  And rightfully so at Nightmare, who’d been the one to push Killer into a mindless rage that resulted in dusting the swap Sans?

Killer didn’t have any definitive answers.

There was no time to dwell on the what-if's either, as Nightmare mercilessly plunged him into another nightmarish memory, this time not allowing Killer to pull himself away from the actions of the Killer in the nightmare.

This torment of the mind went on for a very long time.

Killer had been fully drained of his negative emotions throughout the forced reliving of numerous wretched distorted nightmares. As quickly as it started, and as long as it seemed to last, Killer was thrown off when the mental agony and horror suddenly ended, only for fangs and claws and tentacles to flash.

Pain.

Sharp pain.

Killer lie curled up on the floor where Nightmare tossed him with a tentacle, not daring to get up lest more attacks were to come.  The guardian didn't continue the mental or sudden physical assault. 

Nightmare growled something under his breath, tore out two remaining arrows from his shoulder, and stalked off to his office.

Trembling, Killer lie still for some time. When Nightmare didn't immediately return, Killer shakily dug around in a pocket, wincing as movement made the claw wounds all over his body sting, along with the bites Nightmare had apparently inflicted at some point.

Away.

Killer trembled as he got to his feet and tottered unevenly to one side. A hand pressed to his ribcage, where there was marrow welling up through the shirt he wore.  His hand slid higher, and he found a cracked clavicle. 

Sockets close.

A slow breath.

He needed to get away from the castle.

Now.

Killer shakily lifted a small device out of his jacket to create a portal.  

There was only one place he could think to go.

With a shuddering exhale, Killer stepped through the portal and entered Allure's home au, closing the portal behind him.  

A shiver.

The cold never used to bother him.

How much damage had he taken?

Killer didn't want to know, so he didn't Check himself.

He hadn't, for a very long time.

Killer didn't want to face what he had become any more than he already had.

...he didn't know why he'd bothered coming to this au.  

How the fuck did he think a change of scenery would help the chills running up and down his spine, both from the injuries he'd taken, and the sins added to the count of those he'd dusted over and over again in his own home.

Killer should...

...he wanted.

Bone falling to pieces beneath his touch, dragging the sharp blade through each knuckle to flick the dust away as each piece crumbled.

Killer staggered, hand shooting to his teeth as his ribcage heaved.

Bones clattered, dragging winces from Killer and helpless little unhinged giggles.

He collapsed, heaving over a trashcan conveniently next to a bench in the park he'd appeared in from the portal.

He'd killed someone, unwillingly.

He'd tortured that Swap Sans practically to death.

And Killer didn't remember, and still didn't know all the details, even after that nightmarish reenactment he'd been forced to relive.

Killer groaned and dry-heaved over the trashcan, gripping the sides tightly.

It was pure luck that no one was out and about this late in the night in the au.

Killer slumped down alongside the trashcan as he struggled to even out his unnecessary breathing. His initial plan had been to lie low in an attempt to calm down after the physical assault on his body with sharp teeth and claws while he'd been cruelly mindfucked through being forced to relive past memories.

Killer curled his hands into fists against the grass, trembling. 

What did he think he was doing?

It wasn't like he could escape from Nightmare for long.

Killer grit his teeth.

He couldn't stay out here in the open.

It wasn't safe.

(nothing was safe)

With a hitch of pained breath, Killer rose to his feet and stumbled his way through the park until he found his way to the sidewalk.  Thankfully, again, it was nighttime, so that meant there weren't many people out and about. At least not too many to see a beaten-up skeleton monster struggling to move as blood trickled down along bone, some of it mixing with dark ichor leaking rapidly from sockets. It did begin to get a little crowded the closer to the main areas of the city one got. Killer had thought he ought to be able to get to Allure's home but from his lagging energy, it wasn't to be.  With a slow sigh, Killer changed his destination and hobbled in another direction.

The club.

He didn't attempt to go in through the front of the club, seeing as he looked like he'd been in a bad fight.  It would lead to unwanted attention, both from someone wanting to possibly help him, to someone else thinking to take advantage of a monster that was weakened and wouldn't put up much of a fight.

(Nightmare would come after him)

Killer was only able to hobble as far as the back of the club, outside the employee's entrance.  With a self-deprecating laugh, Killer finally collapsed by the staircase, where he proceeded to bleed all over the concrete.

This sucked.

Fucking Nightmare.

Killer hoped those golden arrows hurt like hell when the guardian had returned masquerading as a pincushion.

Determination began to gather beneath Killer's skull where he had it lying on one side.

It had thinned out.

Huh.

...when had he started crying?

Why were his breaths hitching? 

It was luck again that it was Allure who came across him, when he ended up nearly passing out from the effort of shoving back the agony he was currently in.

"Killer?"

That was his name.

It wasn't Sans.

Well, not anymore, it wasn't.

"Yes, Sans, I know that. It's my name too.  But Killer is what I've been calling you."

Allure.

"Yes, that's what you've been calling me."

Huh.

Killer lucked out on having Allure find him instead of anyone else, apart from Hex.

"What happened to you?"

Nightmare happened.

He happened a lot, whether it be through pain or wrenching Killer's emotions away from him.

"Nightmare? Is that...your boss?"

Killer didn't think he'd spoken aloud.

Warmth.

Was someone holding him?

Why bother.

Might as well just toss him in a dumpster and see what happened.

"Don't say that."

Killer winced a little over the hold becoming tighter as he was maneuvered...somewhere.  His bones were clattering beneath his clothing again, but he did relax a minute amount when a hand gently pet the back of his skull near where it connected to his spine.  That shouldn't have felt so nice when not so long ago another hand had been wrapped around his vertebrae with claws digging in to make him bleed.  Maybe it should concern Killer that he didn't mind hands near his skull, but maybe it was just that he didn't care if he lived or died at this point after everything.

Had he spoken aloud again?

"Please stop talking. Just rest."

Had Killer spoken aloud again?

But Killer didn't deserve it.

"Then I'm going to make sure you rest."

Killer didn't bother arguing, wondering why being listless meant running his mouth. 

"Part of your charm, I suppose."

Charm?

Killer had less charm than a brick wall.

"I beg to differ.  You are a nice conversationalist when you wanted to be."

Killer should just rest before he embarrassed himself more.

"Kinda late for that, buddy."  Allure sounded amused.

What else had he mutter?

Ugh.

Killer's sockets finally closed as he let out a slow, discomforted breath. Hell, Killer may have even briefly passed out after all when he suddenly came to full alertness with a sudden gasp, staring up at a softly glowing ceiling of a room lit with neon lights.  But where he was didn't so much matter as the flash of pain and the sting of his wounds covered in bandages with healing ointment.  And with that, Killer was assailed mercilessly by the memories he couldn't actually recall but was made to remember as much as possible through vivid night terrors.

"Are you awake now?"

Killer wearily turned his head to the side to find Allure sitting on a chair, the other Sans staring down at him with something that appeared to be concern.  Frowning, Killer levered himself up on an elbow, fingerless gloved hand clenching as the motion pulled on all the bandages around his bones.  But he'd also stopped because Allure had gotten up off the chair to join him on what appeared to be a makeshift bed of pillows with blankets draped over it.  Killer flinched when Allure's hand lightly landed on his left humerus.

"I'm going to help you sit up, even if you should be lying down."

Killer relaxed and allowed the other Sans to do just that.  He also may have selfishly allowed himself to lean into Allure to get some non-violent contact, while also helping to prevent him from falling over.

"I'm gonna guess you don't want to talk about it."

Killer let out a breathless little laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."  Allure sighed.  "Want something to eat? Your magic level is low, and your injuries are healing more slowly than they ought to be." Allure's sockets narrowed.  "And don't say, or think, that its not worth it to use healing on you, or to give you food."

Caught.

"Where is this?"  Killer asked instead of confirming the other's suspicions, as he took in the room he and Allure were currently in.

Yes, he was changing the subject.

Killer, much like Allure, were very good at sidestepping talking about things that were troubling. Allure may not have indicated as such, but Killer could read it in his expression that there were secrets he kept to himself.

Understandable.

Killer would rather keep Allure far away from Nightmare for as long as was possible. That one time with Nightmare opening up a portal nearby was already too close.  Dammit.  Killer already fucked up by mentioning the guardian by name in an injured, apparently delirious state. Killer couldn't let that to happen again, lest he actually put the other Sans in danger.

And why exactly did he care?

Killer didn't precisely know, but he could say that it was nice to be around another him in another 'verse who didn't have to deal with a shitty crazed guardian that took his anger out on him.  Or the fact that Allure was kind to him, as was his brother Hex, and neither of them had any reason to be that toward Killer.  Not with his LV and EXP.  The way he looked with empty sockets and the determination that continuously flowed, as well as his target soul exposed to the world...it showed Killer's past mistakes and eventual caving into the pressure of what was happening in his au that made him completely spiral out of control.

Yet Allure and Hex chose to treat him kindly.

All of Killer's visits to this au had been pleasant compared to his old au, and anything to do with Nightmare.

"This is my room backstage in the club."  Allure's voice cut in, sounding just as weary as Killer.  "It's where I keep work related items like clothing and makeup."

"Makeup?"  Killer titled his skull to peer into Allure's pretty cyan eye lights.

Pretty?

Well, it was certainly better looking than Nightmare's icy gaze of cyan that was devoid of life.

"Makeup as in adornments, in a way, I guess."  Shifting an arm around Killer's lower back to carefully brace him, Allure leaned his skull away and turned it to show off a sparkling that dusted his cheekbones and across his nasal ridge.

"Looks like little stars."  Killer said with a quizzical tilt of his own skull.  "Doesn't that shit get into your sockets?"

"I use some sealant to keep it in place, and so it shines a bit more under the stage lights."  Allure answered, waving his free hand as if not finding it that big of a deal.

Killer noted with a quick once over that Allure was wearing only a pair of tight, tight booty shorts, the rest of him barebones.

Eh.

Allure walked around his house like that sometimes, when Killer had been around for a month and a half in the au, so that wasn't much of a surprise, honestly.  

"Think you can eat a bag of chips?"

Killer nodded.

"You can sit on your own?"

Another nod.

Allure seemed dubious of this as he was careful to make sure Killer didn't topple over and hurt himself.

Killer didn't think he could be harmed any worse than what Nightmare had already put him through.  How many LV. 1 monsters had Nightmare allowed him to slaughter that Killer couldn't recall?

(heavy guilt lingered, for killing that Underswap Sans)

"Plain or flavored?"  Allure asked as he absently flounced across the room to rummage through a dresser drawer.  

(That Underswap Papyrus, fighting to be freed from the blue attacks, only to watch his brother die)

"Plain's fine."  Killer responded, the guilt swirling in his soul but unable to be reached after Nightmare had torn so much emotion out of him. Killer didn't notice that he'd loosely wrapped his arms around himself, the rattling beginning anew.  Killer watched high heeled boots tap a light rhythm as Allure tossed out empty energy drink cans and what appeared to be packets of condoms. The number of condoms was actually pretty damn hilarious to see go flying across the room.  Allure must have noticed because he put extra magical effort into pinging them around the room, sending the unopened condoms straight into the trash can, which for some reason had Killer wheezing with laughter for no apparent reason.  When a sex toy went zooming through the air on its journey to the trash can, Killer collapsed backwards as he cracked up over the absurdity.  He could hear Allure's laughing, soft and deep join in, as the sound of crinkling signaled the other Sans had procured the bag of chips.

The moment Allure turned, he and Killer both took in one another's expressions.

Killer saw that Allure wanted to comfort him.

Allure could see that Killer was struggling to come to terms with something.

(memories, horrible memories)

"So." Killer accepted the bag of chips as Allure sat down alongside him again, hands resting over bare knees.  "Why are those condoms all different sizes?  Can ya change it up that much?"  

"I don't play much anymore." Allure gave Killer's shoulder a playful shrug, before a more somber expression rose.  "Grillby tries to keep any 'secret admirers' out of my room here at the club, but sometimes other employees get bribed to bring in that...stuff.  Trying to get me to rethink showin' 'em a good time."  Allure shuddered, clearly thinking back on the unpleasantness that the unwanted heat had brought to his and many other monsters' lives before it had been reversed.

Killer doesn't think he's exactly the comforting type, but through the numbness of his current emotions, Killer found himself sitting back up the more Allure spoke.  Killer could tell Allure was spiraling, because Killer himself gave the same vocal and physical cues Killer himself had made back in his own underground.

"There's more in the trash that I tossed out before you woke up."  Allure began to sound distraught, the tips of his phalange digging into his own bones.  "I don't understand why those assholes won't just leave me alone.  They already ruined my scientific career opportunities on the surface here.  The only place I can work is here, until monsters can move further away. And even then, what's to say what happened underground won't just follow me anywhere I go? What more do they have to take from me before they get the memo that I wasn't myself when that accident happened?  None of us who were affected were ourselves."

"Hey."

Allure exhaled sharply through his teeth and nasal cavity before his cyan eye lights met Killer's empty sockets.

"Didja throw it all out after getting the chips?" Killer questioned, tossing back half the chips past his teeth to allow his magic to clumsily dissolve it.

"Yes?"  Allure looked lost, but at least he had stopped scraping lines into his femurs.

"Wanna know what I think of those 'secret admirers' and other assholes?"  Killer asked as he shuffled across the bed to get a good view of the trash can.

Good.

It wasn't near any of the walls.

"Well..." Allure's despairing look morphed into an evil little grin, as if already reading Killer's intentions on the others' face.  "I won't say no to that."

"Okay." Killer's magic was wonky at best right now, but he managed a manifest a medium sized blaster in the room.  The Gaster Blaster's own empty sockets dripped with the same determination as its master as it leaned over and fired a concentrated beam into the trash, setting it on fire.  Keeping the blaster out, Killer side-glanced at Allure with a grin. "They're a dumpster fire if all they want is your body."

"As much as it would be cathartic, no tossing them into a dumpster some dark night." Allure's eye lights briefly gleamed over the idea anyway.

Killer swayed but remained upright this time as Allure bumped into him from behind in a gentle hug, due to Killer's still-healing wounds.

"Thanks."  Came the whisper.

"Wanna send this particular dumpster fire away?"  Killer questioned as Allure's arms hug a tad firmer around him.

"Have your blaster move away."

Killer did so, and watched with glee as Allure summoned a rather intricate pattern of various shapes of bones to skewer the trash can, before a Gaster Blaster briefly appeared to make the remainer disappear into a blast mark on the ground.

"I wouldn't mind someone in bed in the future...but only if they want me for who I am outside the bedroom.  If all they want from me is sex because of what I was like in heat-" Allure pressed his face against Killer's shoulder for a moment.  "I don't want to be hurt like that again, so I don't let anyone near."

Similar to how Killer was going to soon deny himself the ability to show up in this au going forward.  It was too dangerous, with how unpredictable Nightmare was quickly becoming.  Killer couldn't let anyone be close to him lest they get killed, and Allure didn't want anyone to get close, so he wouldn't get hurt by a past he couldn't help.

Killer was rethinking his whole assessment of this lust au variant.

A twinge, full of negativity not his own, pulsed through his soul.

Welp.

That was that.

"I won't be able to stay for much longer."  Killer whispered roughly.  "Nightmare knows I'm not in the castle anymore and..."  Killer laughed humorously.  "...without any orders from him."  

"He injured you."  Allure's hands twitched against Killer's bandages, his phalange curling slightly.

"I’m alive." Killer shrugged indifferently.  He was used to the treatment, as fucked up as that was.

"Stay here." Allure whispered, even if he already knew the answer.

"Nightmare will always find me." Killer said with a sigh. "Remember how he made that portal next to us?"

"Stay."

"Not gonna drag you into my mess when ya got your own troubles." Killer returned, as he hesitantly reached down to rest a hand over Allure's own.  He knew the other monster was more tactile than him, proven correct when Allure turned his hand over to clasp his.  "I'm not so sure I'll be able to come back so...I suppose that this will be good-bye."  Killer held tight to Allure's hand when the other made as if to draw away.  "I'm not taking chances this time.  Shouldn't risked it after boss' reaction before I came here." 

“Come back anyway.” Allure repeated the same sentiment as before while reaches up to hold his other hand over Killer's, leaning his browbone into Killer's shoulder. “You’re one of few who treat me like a person and not some sexual fantasy.”

"This is the only place that hasn't hurt me." Killer's soul wobbled but retained its target shape.   But he would stand firm in not wanting Nightmare to have a reason to cause trouble here. Killer stiffened when Allure slowly, carefully let go of his hands and urged Killer around to pull him into a proper hug.  Killer's target soul fluttering between them as Allure rests jaw on killers left shoulder with a slow sigh.

"I'll miss your company if you don't return."  Allure lifted his skull and met Killer's gaze.  "But I can tell you're sincere.  About the danger.  I won't ask again."  Allure settled in to hug Killer for a time and Killer just...sat there for a moment before awkwardly returning the hug. 

Killer remained seated on the floor-bed even after Allure let go of him to offer a sad smile before going to retrieve something from a drawer. 

When Allure returned, he knelt next to Killer, and, letting Killer watch what he was doing, took his hand.  With another wordless glance between them, Allure pressed something into Killer's leather-covered palm, his own hand lingering there.

"Here."  Allure leaned in to tap his teeth lightly to Killer's cheekbone, heedless of the determination streaks.  "Stay safe, when you're able to."  Allure let his hand linger a moment longer, before he let go, and stepped away back over to the dresser.

Killer looked down at what Allure had given him.

It was a brooch, in the shape of an aster.

Two of the flowers intertwined, actually; pink and blue.

Killer raised his skull to look across the room, where he held Allure's gaze for a long moment, before dipping his head in quiet thanks.

Allure dropped his gaze the dresser top.

Killer knew what the brooch signified; a memento of Allure, more meaningful than the socks from before, if Killer didn’t return to this au. The aster’s colors were Allure’s magic colors, both before and after the incident in the underground.  The blue aster had been touched up with highlights of cyan. Perhaps the flower didn’t come in that shade?

Allure didn’t say anything.

Killer quietly rose to his feet to leave the room, but not before sending his still-summoned Gaster Blaster to cuddle up to Allure's side. That may or may not have been the right thing to do, because Allure wrapped his arms around the blaster.  Killer pretended that he didn't hear the telltale sniffles as Allure attempted to keep it together, so he didn’t make Killer's departure harder.  Killer didn’t deserve such understanding and yet he still received it. He pocketed the aster brooch in his inventory. It was the only place he could think to keep it safe from Nightmare.  Killer winced as he slid his jacket back on over his bandaged bones.

The Gaster Blaster made an almost croon as it nuzzled into Allure's hug.

And there came the hitching breaths.

Killer slipped out the door, his deadened soul not listening to the urge to go offer comfort.

The negativity was beginning to weigh down on him.

Killer had to leave this au.

Now.

And he could do so with a nifty little device he got from Sci via Nightmare some time ago.

His 'boss' should have asked what the small device was for, instead of concerning himself only with the device that Killer used to get to Allure's au.

Killer could almost sense Nightmare’s aggravation at having to chase him from au to au.

Good.

Killer was experiencing a hint of a rebellious spark over the idea that he’d seen Allure for the last time.

He'd play dumb when Nightmare caught up with him.

For now, Killer used the limited time he had to eavesdrop on monsters in certain aus he'd been to before.

It was as he thought before.

There was going to be a meeting of many different aus to try and put together a plan together to ‘stop’ Nightmare once and for all, as well as his ‘lackey’, whichever came first.

Perfect.

The next step Killer had to do was the one he was dreading the most.

Convince Nightmare he had no idea how he got from place to place without the guardian.

Killer jumped to an empty au, hid the small device in his inventory, and waited. As Nightmare got closer, the negativity a cold, choking force, Killer allowed his features to drop into blankness and squashed any lingering emotions down as he started up at the starry night sky. The adrenaline was wearing off, reminding Killer of the damage he’d sustained from Nightmare's earlier attacks, despite the healing supplies Allure had used on him.

Nightmare appeared within moments, clearly ready to lash out to prevent Killer from running again, only to halt. From Nightmare's point of view, he saw Killer standing in place, unmoving, with a vacant expression as the target souled monster stared straight ahead with muted emotions.

Killer hoped that Nightmare didn’t suspect playacting.

Thankfully, a full body flinch wasn't anything unusual when Nightmare passed close to his body, the guardian moving in a slow circle around Killer before standing in front of him.  Killer managed to not flinch when a tendril loops around Killer to hold him in place as he is forcefully, painfully healed the rest of the way before the tendril lets go.

Nightmare's eye light bored into Killer.

Killer did nothing but keep his gaze forward.

Nightmare's socket narrowed, but he raised a hand to the side to open up a portal.

Again, Killer pretended like he isn’t aware of the guardian in front of him.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"I am uncertain what that was all about, but I will find out later, through force, if necessary." Nightmare titled his skull, the negativity flowing down along his skull and body shifting.  "Right now, I want you to go to a Fellswap verse, to distract a group of monsters trying to prevent negativity from spreading." A tendril flicked in distain.  "A first in that particular universe."

Killer stepped toward the portal wordlessly, taking advantage of his unbalanced soul to hide any fear he may have otherwise felt in the moment for playing dumb around someone who was able to sense emotions. On the other side of the portal, it turned out that the healing session was necessary, since Killer was set upon almost instantly by an Asriel and a Chara on a surface au, only to be joined by several Sans, Papyrus, Undyne and Alphys from other aus.

More than just Fellswap variants.

A trap.

Killer avoided most of the initial attacks, but the overwhelming odds he'd walked into meant that he came away from the second set of attacks injured.  But the damage done wasn't enough to dust him, which means the other monsters wanted to capture him. A part of Killer wants that, but Nightmare seemed to have exerted some control over his soul and body, as Killer found, distressingly enough, that he couldn't stop fighting and retreating, depending on how close or far away others were.

But it wasn't enough.

Killer wasn't meant for long fights.

In no time at all, he was overwhelmed and backed into a corner.  Killer was certain he was in danger of being dusted (or caught) but that’s when Nightmare himself decided to appear to scatter the other monsters. Killer nearly collapsed from a mangled leg, but a tentacle looped around his body prevented that as Nightmare carried him out of the au without even looking back. 

Many monsters had died in Nightmare's single, brutal attack, while the others had been forced to retreat.

Killer hung his skull wearily, body limp as Nightmare carried him back through the portal, and home to the castle. It made Killer almost physically ill to think of this castle as his home, but it wasn’t like he was ever going back to his original, reset home (gone. it was gone. it was never coming back) nor would Killer ever be allowed to go live with Allure in his au.  Killer shivered as Nightmare forcibly healed him with that frigid, uncaring magic of his.  Killer dropped to the ground, heaving for breath, and lie there recovering from that for a time, before Nightmare rudely dropped him into the next universe without a word.

The same scenario as before happened.

Overwhelming odds.

Damaging but not life-threatening attacks.

Nightmare, intervening, but this time, when he left, he dragged Killer's wounded body along the ground all the way back through to the castle, before healing Killer up.

Please.

Another portal.

Another unfair fight.

Another humiliating drag through the snow this time, blood and dust mixing in.

Killer wanted it to end.

Please let this torment end.

More aus.

More monsters trying to capture him.

Some monsters, trying to kill him.

Each time, no matter the intent, Nightmare intervened to prevent it.

Killer was exhausted.

Worn out.

Stretched thin.

A vicious assault in one of the many aus Nightmare shoved him through a portal in to left him with broken bones that the guardian didn’t heal for a full day.  Nightmare had chosen to allow Killer to suffer in the silence of the castle, alone, as if it were Killer's fault that he couldn’t stand against so many opponents at once.

Killer’s phalange twitch, sending lancing pain through the broken limb.

Tears flow within the determination.

...He couldn’t go on like this for much longer.

Nightmare viciously silenced Killer's soul's pleas after healing him the following day, rendering Killer as emotionally numb as possible before resuming the cycle of tossing the empty-socketed monster against many opponents and then dragging him back to the castle after being rendered immobile.

It was inevitable in this back and forth into aus, of being wounded and dragged away to avoid being dusted or captured, would eventually end. It was only a matter of time before Killer would finally be caught within a trap without Nightmare around to intercede.

Killer welcomed the capture by the time it came around.

Chapter Text

“-there have been spikes of positivity from this particular au. There are other aus I will investigate myself, but this au will be yours to gather as much information as able before being ready to report back to me about-“

Killer was exhausted, shoulders hunched under his jacket as he stood there, attempting to appear more awake than he actually was. But one look at the deep shadows carved beneath his sockets would tell Nightmare all he needed to know; even muted emotions would have been easy to pick up on. Killer wasn’t actually paying as much attention to his current orders as he ought to be.  

It didn’t matter.

Nightmare would run Killer ragged whether or not he was physically well. So long as there were not any actual injuries, the guardian didn’t seem to care if Killer’s mental health suffered as he was forced into situations where he was overwhelmed by opponents' intent on dusting or capturing him.

A never-ending cycle that would no doubt one day end with-

Frigid tentacles suddenly yanked Killer forward by his left arm and middle, slamming him into the wall alongside the desk, audibly and metaphorically rattled his bones.

The bone-deep weariness and muted emotions meant that Killer’s reactions to the world around him were slower than usual. It wasn’t much of a surprise that the pain only distantly registered as he gracelessly flopped half on the desk, the bottom of his sternum pressed painfully into the edge of the desk.  Killer's legs didn't collapse because a tentacle looped around them.  Briefly confused by the abrupt change in position, Killer's hands scrabbled for purchase on the desk as he tried to prevent his soul from being trapped against cold furniture and his now-throbbing ribcage.

Nightmare began to speak again.

Killer thought that Nightmare was possibly lecture him again, but Killer didn't particularly pay attention to the words.  Instead, Killer fought to remain conscious, lest he pass out and anger the guardian more than he already apparently had.  Tentacles and Nightmare's own hands manhandled Killer, a tendril pinioning his arms to the top of the desk while another tentacle looped around his lower spine, where it shoved against it to force the vertebrae to bend at an unnatural angle.

Goopy bastard continued to yap away.

Exhaustion made Killer not think clearly as he tried to wriggle free, only for everything to hurt so much more as the tentacles constricted.  He finally clued in but by that time Nightmare had decided to make the matter worse by lightly tracing sharp claw tipped phalange along exposed cervical vertebra. Killer shivered in discomfort when it became obvious that Nightmare was toying with him, making the empty socketed monster wonder what he would do next.

Apparently, it was to hook two cold bony fingers to the underside of Killer's jawbone.

Killer hissed in pain as his skull was yanked backward, away from the desk, while the rest of his body was held in place.

Nightmare tugged further until he held the other's skull at as painful a position as possible without snapping Killer's bones.  The guardian rose smoothly, the darkness growing around the office as Nightmare leaned closer, looming overhead.

The unnatural torque of his skull sent Killer into a mute panic, but with his hands trapped against the desk, and his lower spine and legs held in place, he just...gave up. Killer went limp, even if this caused agonizing zings of burning pain along his spine as the lower part half out cricks of protest, as did his cervical vertebrae.

"I made this mission very simple, even for you." Nightmare's gaze bored into Killer's.  "From what little emotions remain in you, it appears I have more to learn, if someone like you becomes useless while running on only a few hours rest."

Killer issued out a gasping wheeze.

"As I said before, you are to gather any pertinent intel in that au, particularly regarding the guardian of positivity and if he is trying to intervene there."  The two claws curled, nicking bone.  "Take note of any other au monsters or humans who may be about.  Once you've gathered all you are able, stand by in the usual location to be retrieved." Nightmare's cyan stare intensified, the grip of his tentacles and fingers tightening while the guardian leaned close within Killer's vision. 

Killer breathed unevenly, cursing his stupid, stupid mind (and soul) as his bony face contorted in discomfort, sweat beading over his skull.  A whimper was dragged out of him involuntarily as Nightmare lifted his jaw backward just a tad more. 

"Do you understand your orders?" 

Killer squirmed in discomfort as he shuddered out a breath. Again, the fingers jerked up, causing Killer to release a distressed choke.

"Repeat them."

There would be no further prompting.

"Gather intel...'bout guardian positivity...if there." Killer's hands twitch but apart from that, he didn't move or otherwise try to move his skull out of the painful hold.  "See if...'ny other aus 'round.  Wait in...extraction point." Killer let out gasp then violently coughed as Nightmare completely let go of him, tentacles and all.  The momentum sent Killer flailing backward where he landed on his back on the floor of the office with a grunt.  Killer rolled on his side, half curling up as more coughing and wheezing followed.

"Good."  Nightmare opened a portal.  "You are to leave, then.  Now."

Killer sucked in a few steadying breaths before he turned over, shoving himself up to his hands and knees.  Quivering for a moment, Killer struggled to get his breathing back under control. But from a sharp smack of a tentacle to the left of his skull, Nightmare wasn't going to wait for him to get his shit together.

Fucker.

With one last wheezing intake of air, Killer shoved himself to his feet, and unsteadily walked toward the portal. The only silver lining in the moment was that he wasn’t thrown through the portal this time. Killer was liable to have fallen straight on his face with how unsteady he already was. Once on the other side of the portal, it closed behind him, and with some breathing space, Killer was able to see where Nightmare had sent him.

Snowdin Forest.

It had been some time since Nightmare had sent him to an au that looked so similar to Killer’s own.

It was nostalgic. 

Painfully so.

But quiet.

Much too quiet.

But while there was the nostalgic pain of entering into an au that was a near exact copy of his old home, it was deadened by the emotional withdrawal forced onto him by Nightmare.  The guardian appeared to be changing up his tactics, which in turn meant that Killer wasn’t going to immediately be getting his coccyx handed to him in a one on overwhelming odds fight.

This didn’t seem like a break.

It seemed more a punishment.

Killer stalled as long as he could before stepping through softly falling snow toward Snowdin’s main hub of activity.

Only…there wasn’t anyone there.

Snowdin was void of life.

Odd.

Why would Nightmare send him here if there wasn’t anyone to get information out of via eavesdropping?

Had someone already been there to evacuate the residents further toward the capital, or out of the au altogether? 

Skull tilted to one side in thought, Killer eventually turned on his heels and made for the Ruins instead of exploring further into the Underground, in case it was some kind of set up. Determination falling in thick, sluggish rivulets, Killer turned his head one way then another.

Still nothing.

Quiet.

He didn’t-

Killer barely shortcut to one side out of pure instinct to avoid a flurry of bones so full of potent killing intent that it would have dusted him for sure, regardless of Nightmare’s possible interference.  For a fraction of a second, Killer wondered if he ought to have let the attack hit, just to see what happened. Automatically brandishing a knife in his left hand, Killer landed lightly on his feet but braced himself, prepared for yet another fight that would end with him in exhausted heap, dust or not.

"You." The voice was full of venom and hurt.

Killer hesitated but didn't drop out of his stance when he saw that the speaker that attacked him was a Papyrus. 

A Papyrus wearing an orange hoodie and khaki shorts.

It couldn't be any other Papyrus but the Underswap Papyrus that had been brothers to the Underswap Sans that Killer had dusted...whenever it was that he'd experienced one of those blackouts.  And just like this Swap Papyrus promised, he hadn't stopped attempting to track Killer down within the multiverse.  This Swap Papyrus also didn't waste any time with any other words now that he had his sights set on Killer, attacking again. 

Grief and fury twisted at Swap Papyrus's skull.

Killer moved out of the way, unable to look the other monster in the sockets for long because of how horrible an expression that was to see on any Papyrus’ face. Especially because Killer understood, in a way, what Swap Papyrus felt, if only because it was similar to what Killer eventually began to feel after he'd dusted his own brother so many times over. Only in Swap Papyrus' case, it was worse, because he'd been forced to watch a disconnected from reality Killer mutilate then dust his brother.

An idea formed as Killer shortcut out of the way of another wave of bones.

This Swap Papyrus had only met him when Killer had been completely out of control due to his soul having been dangerously unstable.  Swap Papyrus wouldn't expect any strategies from someone with only killing and maiming on the mind, as that was all this Papyrus had seen from Killer.

With that in mind, Killer danced around the outside of Ruins and into the surrounding forest.  Killer deflected bones when they got too close for comfort with a knife, as Swap Papyrus pursued him, snow kicked up in a flurry. But even as Killer avoided being skewered by rather vicious intent filled attacks, Killer found himself beginning to put up a fight as he was driven back toward Snowdin.  Killer's not exactly sure why he's trying so hard not to be struck apart from some sad, half-assed hope that he might live long enough to see Allure one last time. Maybe he could beg for mercy. Beg that if he was going to die anyway, could it at least be in Allure's au, where everything hurt less?  But that would likely only cause Allure further distress if he were to see it happen, and the stubborn bastard might even try to avenge Killer for some stupid reason.  Killer was certain Allure would call him an idiot for thinking such things, that someone (Allure) would want him to try to live instead.

The uncertainty about what to do when given the sudden choice was difficult.

Killer decided to leave it up to the Swap Papyrus, since while he was evading attacks and sending ones of his own (pathetic as they were) in return, Killer was also leaving plenty of openings for the other monster to take advantage of.  Killer was relieved that he was managing to convey the dual conflicting emotions; Swap Papyrus was obviously suspicious of what was happening.  Not only should the Papyrus be a judge from his own au, but he should be able to, with it, sense or see Killer's desperation to be stopped, but also his fear, guilt and tiny spark of hope for someone to save him from this all.

The intent in the bone attacks lessened in intensity, as did the vanishing of any Gaster Blasters.

Killer resigned himself to the idea that he was no longer in danger of being dusted. In a way Killer didn't think he deserved mercy for what he'd done during those blackouts, despite Nightmare forcing him into them and how out of control Killer had been in the decision to torment the Swap Sans to death.  On the other hand, Killer desperately wanted this; for someone to stop him so he didn't have to think of the what-if's if he were to die or return to Nightmare without any information to give.

 …dealing with one’s emotions sucked.

Fucking Nightmare.

Killer was drawing in sharp gasps of breath as he attempted to keep his stamina up enough to dodge any attacks that would lead to debilitating wounds.  He could tell that Swap Papyrus, throughout this weird almost-spar, continued to be upset over Killer's hand in the demise of his brother.  For Papyrus to want to avenge his dead brother but allowed common sense to catch up, presumably for whatever he’d been told in a multiverse-wide meeting. 

Yup.

A meeting.

Killer pointedly hadn't mentioned that little tidbit of intel to Nightmare.

If that fucker couldn't figure out on his own that a group of aus (and growing) were trying to band together against him, then so be it.

Killer would gladly watch the Guardian of Negativity's downfall.

Hell, Killer would take part in it if he was able.

Right now?

Killer could read it in Swap Papyrus' face that he had decided, in that moment, to capture him alive, but likely as painful as possible if Killer continued to evade.  Killer had a moment of doubt which had him accidentally stumble, barely missing his femur getting run through.  This wasn't going to lead him to be tortured for information, would it?  Even if Killer was willing to give it freely?  The continued doubt slowed his movement but not enough to be caught just yet.  Target soul flickering in faint unease, Killer was torn between just stopping in his tracks, or attempting to goad the other to try and kill him, as Swap Papyrus seemed to be initially inclined to do.

He wouldn't anymore.

Killer could see it.

Would being captured really be any different than facing Nightmare after a failed mission? Was it worth giving a little trust to those who opposed Nightmare, as Killer had with Allure, despite being different circumstances. 

Killer stepped out of a shortcut but ended up tripping over his own feet due to exhaustion.  He pitched backward into the snow with a little grunt and flail of surprise, which Swap Papyrus swiftly took advantage of.  Killer winced as bones attacks, blue ones, thankfully, expertly pinned down each of his arms and legs, and two on partway in his ribcage to have the pointed, splintered ends point warningly in Killer's soul's direction. Despite the clear threat, Killer could only feel relief.

Utter, profound relief.

Killer issued out only faint noises of discomfort when Swap Papyrus inspected the blue attacks, tapping a few to make sure they'd sunk into the ground beneath the snow.  

The Papyrus, satisfied with the blue attacks preventing Killer from moving, Swap Papyrus' skull tilted to look down at Killer for a few very unnerving minutes.

That stare was nothing like Nightmare's frigid, dangerous scrutiny.

Killer offered no resistance in any case as he lie there in the snow heaving for breath.

"The others want you alive."

Killer assumed that was the case.

"...I don’t want that."

Unsurprising, since Killer didn't actually know how long Swap Papyrus saw him tormenting then killing Underswap Sans.

"Got nothing to say?"

What was there to say? 

Nothing that Killer could say would ever be able to undo what had happened, and since Swap Papyrus was even here in the first place meant that his home au hadn't been able to be reset.  But Swap Papyrus seemed to want an answer, so Killer allowed his target soul to speak for him, if the other monster would bother to look for unsaid answers.

A cold breeze swirled through the trees.

A natural cold.

There was a ping of a Check to Killer's battered soul.

A hitch of breath.

One of confusion and disbelief.

Another ping.

An audible grumble this time.

Killer stared up at the sky to watch to snow fall.  It even looked the same here as it did in his dead world. 

(he would never get to see it again)

"Not gonna try and run away?"

Killer didn't exactly have a choice before with Nightmare forcing him to leave through a portal. 

Unless Swap Papyrus meant here in this au.

Nah, pass.

Killer was too worn out. 

Besides, there wasn't a point trying to do anything now that he was caught.  But it didn't surprise Killer that this Underswap Papyrus continued to be suspicious of him, even with the lack of sudden attacks or resistance.

Killer would be suspicious of himself too, especially since he wasn't exactly stable with this target soul of his.

One last Check washed over him after Swap Papyrus kneeled alongside Killer after a second of serious thought pinching those browbones.

Killer continued to stare up at the falling snow while he waited for his immediate fate to be decided upon.

"Gonna make this easy or hard?"

Killer couldn’t help but let out a startled burst of hysterical laughter at those unexpected words.  Those words flung Killer back to Nightmare's abuse when the guardian had posed a similar question.  But in this case, Swap Papyrus likely just intended to slap a magic suppressor on him or restrain him in some way or another.

"I'm seriously questioning Dream’s decision about you." Swap Papyrus sighed out over the unhinged, helpless laughter as he unceremoniously pressed cloth over Killer's teeth and nasal cavity.  "Why he thought you could help distract Nightmare...I doubt it helped all that much with all the shit he’s put the multiverse even without your interference."

Chloroform, Killer's soon swimming mind informed him after he took in a few involuntary breaths of the cloth. Killer let out a mad giggle over the idea.  The hitching laughs only grew louder while Swap Papyrus held his hand as steady as he could, his other hand even pressing down on one of Killer's shoulders out of precaution, as if he though Killer was going to try and escape.

Nah.

Killer wasn’t going to run.

Couldn't, because of the blue attacks and his general exhaustion.

Killer suddenly found it hilarious that he'd thought of using chloroform on Nightmare at some point but decided against it.  If there'd been any chance it would work and Killer could get far enough away before the guardian could launch a retaliatory punishment, Killer would have done it in a soul beat.

The laughter suddenly switched on a dime to miserable hitching breaths, as involuntary tears slid down Killer's sockets as what the Swap Papyrus had just done clicked.

To think that he’d caused a Papyrus to do something they likely found detestable to do to another Sans but necessary in the moment. That this Swap Papyrus decided to grant mercy, despite the fact that Killer butchered his brother and dusted him while Swap Papyrus watched.

Killer didn’t deserve to be treated kindly.

He didn't deserve to be treated with anything amounting to respect.

It didn't matter that Swap Papyrus was doing this out of necessity.

It didn't matter that Killer had little to no control over his life.

Killer couldn't even remember some instances or wondering just how much of himself he had lost of himself since he'd been forced to work for Nightmare.

Another ping of a check.

A startled noise.

Silence.

Papyrus removed the chloroform cloth, followed by warily dismissing the blue bone attacks.

Killer's sockets half closed, his body not about to move under his own power as his ribcage slowly fell and rose.

"Got a lotta questions for you. Better think about how cooperative you'll be on the way there.”

Killer distantly experienced himself being picked up by Swap Papyrus, initially being tucked under an arm.

Another brush of a Check.

Killer allowed it to happen, as before.  He didn’t care what was seen anymore. Despite Nightmare's manipulation, most of the actions and decisions Killer made were his own, as distasteful as he found harassing other  to be unless he was so disconnected from himself he didn’t realize what he’d done before Nightmare dragged him back to the castle. 

"You…"  Swap Papyrus let out a slow breath. "Dammit. Dream was right."

Killer didn’t know what that meant, but he could feel Swap Papyrus maneuvering him around.  One arm went under Killer's femurs, and the other wrapped around his upper back.  Killer let out a slurred noise of confusion as he was held up against Swap Papyrus' chest, Killer's skull lying against a shoulder. 

Was this...a test of some sort?

Swap Papyrus was certainly holding him stiffly in place, as if expecting chloroform to not be enough to prevent Killer from attacking.

Eh.

His knife had been tucked back into his inventory, to prevent from losing one of the few things left from his dead universe.

"Guess you may actually have wanted to be caught?"

Killer let out a slurred, confused grumble in response to words he couldn't answer as he sagged into the other monster. Killer soon couldn’t be damned over what was going on as he drifted on the edge of consciousness.

Swap Papyrus began to walk.

Killer focused on the cold around them and the warmth from the other monster as he was kept (undeservingly) warm in the process of being taken to wherever it was Swap Papyrus was going.

Maybe it was better this way.

If nothing else, Killer wondered if whatever cell he’d be put in would keep his location a secret from Nightmare.

~

Killer had yet to return for a visit.

The house was quieter without him.

Maybe Killer really wasn’t going to come back after all, out of some obligation to not include Allure and his brother in the shitshow the other Sans insisted he found himself in.

Idiot.

As if Allure also weren’t a part of some shitshow too, though thankfully, he had backup to help prevent anything truly bad from happening to him on the surface.

…It was getting late.

Allure needed to get himself moving before he was late for his shift at Grillby’s. With a shake of his head, sending the front door a hopeful look, Allure lingered by the mirror in the living room, fidgeting with his halter top and fluffing up the hood of his jacket, the fluff soft against his bones. Making sure the booty shorts adhered properly to his ecto just so, Allure inspected himself in the mirror again. Turning one way then another, Allure was satisfied with his appearance for the club, and flitted over to the door. He slipped on his heeled boots, before shortcutting outside Grillby’s employee entrance door.

…he was distracted tonight.

Allure couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He only started experiencing the sensation weeks after he’d last seen Killer, but today it was particularly bad, and it wasn’t until now why today felt differently. It was as if someone was watching him.

Allure stared up at the starry night sky.

The wrongness remained as it became something akin to despair and hopelessness sinking into his bones.

Allure understood those emotions well.

Loneliness, too.

That was all Allure felt presently when the Killer had left, indicating strongly that he wouldn’t be coming back.

It wasn’t Killer’s fault; from his own words, both said and not, he was in a very abusive situation with no way out.

Maybe…Allure could look into trying to travel to other aus like Killer? It wasn’t like Allure had anything better to occupy his time with when he wasn’t at work. And he was often alone, if Papyrus hasn’t home to gossip happily about whatever he’d learned that day, or the ridiculous things Undyne and Alphys got up to.

A thought, for tomorrow.

Tonight, Allure had a performance to do, as loathe as he was to see certain patrons who would love nothing more than to get their hands on him.

A shudder.

Allure put the idea of traveling the multiverse on the back burner, where he kept most of his other scientific ideas.

Allure shivered; it was cold.

The alley back of the building’s shadows seemed darker than they ought to be at this time.

Allure gathered his jacket in closer to his body.

Even the night air was chiller than it out to have been. 

Welp…that was winter on the surface for ya. Not quite over with, but it’d pass.

Allure felt an unnatural chill run down his spine, causing him to suddenly become on edge.

That didn’t seem like a good sign.

What-

Allure automatically shortcut from where he stood to just inside his dressing room in the club, teeth chattering and bones rattling in alarm. Shakily, Allure settled himself down, while struggling to make sense of what he just, for all intents and purposes, escaped.

The chill…

The way Allure’s magic all but screamed ‘threat’ to him.

The way the judge roared to life with bristling indignation and judgement at the ready before Allure overpowered it and shortcut…

Someone, or something, had just tried to seize him, the with magic full of malicious intent.

Allure didn’t remain in the dressing room for long, intending to be around monsters and humans to stave off the panic. Later, when it was just and Grillby waiting for Papyrus, Allure would process.

~

Outside the club, the darkness remained for a time, deepening the shadows of the alley and a parking lot nearby. The shadows broke off into curling tendrils now and again as they flitted about, everything in the darkness tinted by a cyan glow.

Then, the night was as it was before.

Clear, without a single cloud in the sky to cast heavy shadows to the surface below. 

Chapter Text

After the unnerving instance that had it only stirred up the judge but forced Allure to shortcut into the club from outside, the night went by remarkably smoothly.

It seemed too good to be true.

A perfectly ordinary shift at the club for once.

Allure could have sworn he was dreaming, but he wasn’t, and the fact that all was well infuriated him to no end that the nights he worked weren't like this all the time.

Tonight, Allure got through his brief joke set followed by a longer dancing routine without Grillby having to intervene to keep grabby hands or paws away. Allure was able to revel in the novelty of a normal night; bask in the cheering and appreciation his performance drew, versus the vulgar and blatant offers for a good fuck from the audience at the edge of the stage.

Amazing.

For the first time in a long while Allure felt appreciated for his skills and effort put into his act.  He had sadly grown accustomed to being leered at by monsters (and now humans) who were interested in getting freaky in the sheets with with a skeleton monster to the point it made Allure visibly discomforted. And due to this heckling and unwanted callous being miraculously absent that night, Allure actually joined a small group of monsters near the bar once he was done. It felt normal, to enjoy a chat and a drink that Grillby slid over to him.

It was nice, to be able have conversations with his old bar pals from back Underground, without anyone getting too close or laying a hand on Allure anywhere. The lust verse monster was more relaxed than was usual; the only other time in recent memory like this was when Allure was around Killer. But even now, Allure’s guard wasn’t as lowered as it was allowed to be around Killer, but damn did it ever feel wonderful for Allure to have some normalcy in his day-to-day work life. He could only hope there were more days like this, where it almost seemed like it was the old days, a time when no one was interested in his body.

The hope didn’t remain for long, but Allure certainly enjoyed it while he could.

After shooting the shit with his old friends, Allure waved good-bye to Grillby and joked that he ‘needed to get home for his beauty rest’. This drew out a round of genuine laughter and good-natured teasing as Allure waved a hand again to the others in farewell before dramatically flouncing off to the front door. Allure could have used a shortcut, but the very early morning air was crisp and refreshing, so he decided to walk home to enjoy it.

A mistake, that.

But no one, not even Allure, could have been fully prepared for what was about to happen.

There was an unfortunate reason why the monsters that usually heckled and propositioned him from the crowd had been oddly absent for Allure’s shift at work that had made it fun and relaxing for once.

The situation Allure walked into that early morning brought reality crashing down on him, because those same monsters that made his life hell just so happened to be waiting for Allure to come out of the club.

Alone.

By the time Allure noticed the distressingly big group, it was too late.

Allure let out a choked noise of pain as he was sideswiped by a sudden attack that sheared away what little he had in the way of HP to barely anything. The humiliation of not even getting an attack of his own out in retaliation meant nothing when Allure's knees buckled, and someone caught him under the arms to hold him upright.  With the sudden drop in health, Allure was unable to put together a plan to get away.  He couldn't focus enough through the sudden exhaustion, so he was unable to shortcut away. He would have attempted to, had Allure not worried about ending up stuck somewhere (like the void).

"Good thing you got control of your intent, or you could have dusted him."

"I wouldn't have.  Why dust a money maker, especially one that was so good during the heat cycles that took out half the Underground."

"Best fuck ever."

"Sansy here was definitely a great fuck toy."  A clawed hand lightly pat the top of Allure's skull.  "Took dick and other appendages so well. 'Specially when he got passed around during the time he had all the extra magic at the beginning of the heat."

"Let's get outta here before someone sees us."

"Right."  The monster holding Allure beneath the arms agreed.

Allure shuddered involuntarily as the monster's hands shift to grip his humeri painfully tight, but without intent to harm his HP.  Allure, already reeling over the words spoken around him, felt his soul clench in fear over the implications while the thugs around him continued to speak.

"Such a damn shame that you and the others were able to reverse the heat's effects on the surface."  A smaller monster let out a sigh.  "It was nice to have ass, pussy and dick on demand."

"Gonna bring it back in some capacity, but that's where you come in, Sans."

Allure continued to be frozen, horrified. Why couldn’t he put this part of his past behind him?

But no.

There was always someone unhappy to not have some desperate fuckbuddy on demand.

"We need you if this opportunity we're trying to start up has any chance of succeeding."

Allure finally broke out of the horror of the words being spoken around him. The sense of ill intent.  But Allure was unable to muster up the energy to use magic to protect himself, so he made a brief attempt to wriggle free.  The monster manhandling him held Allure firmly in place upon feeling the pathetic excuse of a struggle. Allure's strength quickly gave out as he slumped and began to breathe unevenly.  Allure winced in pain as he was suddenly yanked backward toward the nearby alley (and likely a vehicle on the other side, waiting).

Allure finally acted when his mind screamed at him of the danger if he didn't get away.

Now.

Too weakened to fight, Allure focused all he had left to summon up a bone and saturated it with as much panic/fear/help intent as possible. Then, before anyone could stop him, Allure twisted in the monster's grasp and slung the bone forcefully through the (now distant) door of the club’s employee entrance, breaking it. He doubted Grillby would charge him for the damages in such a situation. Allure about to attempt to scream for good measure when the monster dragging him wrapped their other hand around his neck and squeezed, a claw dangerously nicking into a leyline, threatening to drop Allure’s abysmal health even lower.

“Keep quiet, slut.” The monster grit out, their other hand letting go of Allure’s in order to tug and then hold both of Allure’s wrists together. 

Allure didn’t deign that with an answer, but he couldn’t hold the indifference for long, fear ramping up when his wrists were pinned to the alley wall, halfway between either opening to the alley. Allure squirmed in discomfort but wasn’t able to do much in the way of resistance, his energy all but gone from the surprise attack that hit him, and him damaging the club’s employee door with an attack of his own. Shame and nausea rose as the group of monsters crowded in around him, blocking off any easy escape, as if they expected Allure to recover quickly with such low health as he had.  As if these monsters didn't intentionally, and cruelly, whittle his HP as low as it could go without dusting him.  A hitch of breath, followed by another, as Allure’s bones began to softly rattle under his clothes as his terror rose.

Laughter rose from the group of monsters, though they kept it low, as if to not draw attention to themselves.

"I wonder if that artificial shit will make his magic that pretty dark pink again."  The monster holding Allure's wrists commented. Their free hand reached down to slip under the edge of Allure's crop top to pinch the tip of the sternum and rub it.  "You liked this, didn't you?  When we had you on your back getting fucked, you liked this part of your sternum handled a bit roughly."

Allure clenched his jaw but let out a hiss of breath when another monster leaned over to cup a hand over his pelvis, fondling it as if there were ecto there, and not just bone.  Allure sensed others closing in around him in a tighter ring, without hope of escape.  Allure's sockets close briefly as he frantically attempted to shift away from the unwanted touch, and winced when a finger dragged down the small holes of his sacrum in a taunting way. 

It didn't feel good in any way, shape or form.

Allure said nothing, knowing it would be useless to beg, since the sick bastards would likely enjoy it instead. The lack of energy prevented Allure from doing anything but blindly trying to avoid the touch from pressing down, unwanted memories rising as his breath became light, quick. And the monsters around him continued to talk as it they weren’t causing horrible memories to rise as they kept up their touching.

"Can’t wait for them to get that artificial heat in him."  A monster on Allure's right said, reaching out to slide an hand along a femur.  "He's got some nice thighs to hang on to when he forms all that ecto."

Laughter all around, uncaring of the way Allure was near hyperventilating, his wrists pinned to the wall while being forced to listen to this all, talked about like he wasn't there. 

"He'd probably be so slick by now."  A hand groped Allure's pelvis again, slipping down the front of the shorts that time to palm the pelvic intent. A pause, before the monster curled and rubbed at the bone, as if fingerfucking the cunt that wasn't there.

Allure automatically bucked his hips into the touch, a burn of shame crossing his cheekbones and nasal ridge of the memory of a time not so long ago still ingrained into his mind. But he had control of his magic, and Allure didn't have to form it when he didn't want to.  He wasn't letting these assholes get a glimpse of even a little ecto like he'd use to perform on the stage in the club (and dismissed afterward until he got home to avoid unwanted touch). And even then, Allure and Grillby made it clear that Allure would always keep on a pair of shorts, no matter what, and not fully naked like some times that happened in the Underground when Allure was particularly bad off during the heat that wracked his body.

"C'mon, you can form something, can't you?"

"We should play a little and make sure everything's still working down there." 

Allure desperately tried to claw the hand pinning his wrists to the wall, when the hand from another monster went to the belt.  Despite having no ecto right now, Allure didn’t doubt they’d try and fuck his bones for the hell of it, just to see if they could get his magic to form around them, and make him writhe.

"I remember you looked so good when you got pumped full of cum, and everyone could see it through your magic. "

A paw went around Allure's neck to prevent him from trying to headbutt anyone with his skull, though the thought hadn't even occurred to him.

"Yeah, and how desperate you were to bounce on someone's lap."

"I got a lap he could ride when we're in the car."

"Maybe we'd get to hear him beg for more."  A monster to the left reached behind Allure. With a short, they moved the skeleton monster's back away from the alley wall, grasping his lower spine to play with while clawed fingers trailed down along the notches.  "Always begging for more, even when it spilled out of all your holes before someone filled you up again."

Allure unwillingly bucked again into the hand rubbing inside his pelvis and the rough petting along his sternum.

Stop.

Stop.

He couldn't speak, the fear freezing him in place.

Allure’s soul was practically signaling he wasn't okay with what was happening and wanted it to stop, but this was ignored by those around him.

"And even if we got you all nice and loosened up, it would always go back to nice and tight, ass or pussy."  The hand on his spine went up to shove up behind the ribcage, glancing a claw tip along to the outside of the spine and then inside of the ribcage.

Allure let out a ragged breath, trembling, an almost-whimper leaving him when the paw around his cervical vertebrae tightened.

"A really good cocksleeve for someone who wanted the novelty of a skeleton monster.  Hey, remember the times we had to hold ya down in a lap while someone sucked your dick and tits off to-"

Allure blocked out the voices as best as he was able, trembling increasing at all of the unwanted touches to his body. 

Away. 

He had to distance himself from this, before it became too much.

Allure should fight. 

Resist.

Allure didn't know what he was going to do if someone didn't show up to help him and-

"Here, catch."

Allure catches the small item and quirks his browbone at Killer curiously.

"Since your bro can't always be around, and you're on your own a lot, thought this might be useful."  Killer says as he returns his hands to his jacket pocket. "It's something I got in another au that humans use to get someone's attention if they're in trouble and they can't or aren't able to scream."

Allure stares at the small item dubiously.

"Makes a really piercing noise that should make any idiots back off, like those creeps in the club."  Killer provides.

"Thank you."  Allure eventually says, as his hand curls over the item.  He hopes he will not ever have to use it, but it is a useful present, even Killer says it is practical and-

Allure had the device in his pocket.

With a burst of desperate motion, Allure freed one arm, hand delving into his jacket pocket to press the item, aware that the monsters touching him without his consent sensed a change in his soul and-

A blaring noise rent the air.

Killer was right.

It was obnoxiously loud, but it served its purpose well.

The monsters that had been groping him all let go at once, some crying out in pain from the sound waves while others swore at the loud noise as they backed away in alarm.

Allure, unable to remain standing under his own power, collapsed, but never hit the alley ground as Red Bird was suddenly there, catching him.  Shaking wings enveloped Allure, feathers puffing up on their chest as a burly bouncer from the front of the club crouched down in front of them.  The bouncer loosely wrapped powerful scaled arms around Allure and Red Bird, large leathery wings folding over and tail curling close to form a protective barrier around the smaller monsters.  The reason became clear moments later as a raging inferno literally erupted within the alley, hot air blasting past the bouncer, but not getting anywhere near Red Bird or Allure. 

The monsters that had been harassing and assaulting Allure began to scream as the very air itself became stiflingly hot, his would-be kidnappers and rapists yelling, sobbing and pleading for the fires to halt.

Allure chuckled weakly over how quickly those assholes changed their tune when they were the ones being assaulted.

Allure began to tremble again, bones rattling softly as he buried his face into feathers as his shoulders slumped in relief.

The heat increased in temperature as the screams got louder.

Allure’s desperate attack full of intent for help had been answered, along with the piercing sound drawing attention to where he’d been dragged off.  Allure slowly sagged and would have curled up into a ball had Red Bird not been gently fluffing their feathers up to project comfort/safe despite Allure still feeling the phantom touch of the other monsters.

The alleyway became eerily quiet.

Allure didn't have to be extra-sensitive to the souls of others to know that Grillby had dusted the group.

There would be no trace left behind come late morning.

This made the Judge riled up, but Allure wearily shoved its bitching to the back of his mind.

Grillby had warned this group of monsters' time and time again since coming to the surface to not harass others that had been caught in the throes of a forced heat.  Warned them of what the consequences would be; that mercy would not be shown should the group continue their actions.

"It's done?"  The bouncer growled out lowly in question.

"Yes." Grillby appeared detached, his voice a tad forced in an effort to not sound as such. "It's taken care of." 

A chill went through Allure.  Not due to his friend's icy tone, but because it was Allure's fault that Grillby now had to contend with a gain of EXP and from the sound of it, LV. Allure should have just attacked; used KR.  Not be so worried about remaining LV-free.  Allure's suddenly morose, guilty mood seemed to be picked up by Red Bird as they sniffed.

"This isn't your fault."  Red Bird murmured, sounding a little tipsy as they gave Allure a snug hug, before letting go. “Grillbz here warned them." Red Bird didn't seem to care that their feathers had been soaked with tears.  

"Sans?"  Grillby's voice was closer.

Worry.

Trepidation.

”M’fine.” Allure managed, which meant that he wasn’t, but nothing had happened to the extent that happened in the Underground.

Grillby let out a low rasp that passed as an unhappy growl. 

"I'll take care of things here." The bouncer groused out sourly as he stood, wings flaring out while his tail lashed back and moodily over the amount of dust.  "Fools. They should have listened.”

Allure twitched, panic rising when something heavy and warm was dropped over his shoulders. The monster skeleton relaxed when he caught the scent of bonfires and fireplaces.

Grillby's jacket.

Allure hugged it to him, even allowing Grillby to wrap him up loosely in it.

"...pick you up?" Grillby asked, his voice evening out to its usual soft crackle.

Allure nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

Grillby was safe.

He was always safe.

Grillby always made sure Allure was safe, when it was within the fire monster’s power to do so.

With the practiced ease of carrying Allure home in the past to pass off to a waiting Papyrus, Grillby held Allure in a bridal's carry, which made Allure turn his face into the fire monster's shoulder to snerk wetly as the adrenaline from the fear of before began to wear off.

Grillby's steps were purposeful as he brought Allure back into the club, all the way to the front where the fire monster's voice rose.

"We're closed."

Complaints began to rise immediately but Grillby punctuated his words previous and next words by turning the sign hanging in the window from open to closed.

"Out. Now!"

Allure could all but picture the fiery maw full of fire-shaped teeth that served as a warning to not test Grillby's decision.  When the whining continued, Grillby let out a crackling hiss that became a near roar of a fire with gasoline tossed on it, louder than the protests. The heat rose to sweltering as wisps came up off Grillby's head, which were undoubtably white-hot. Allure didn’t feel anything but a balmy warm in his bones.

Everyone cleared off quickly.

Allure chuckled weakly.

Grillby let out a huff of breath that trailed off with wispy smoke as he proceeded to lock up. Allure doesn't move from his spot in Grillby’s arms, even when Grillby carried him back though the now-empty club to the back. Shouldering a door open that revealed a set of hidden stairs, Grillby climbed up them while carefully holding Allure in his arms as the two of them entered the fire monster's living quarters.  When Grillby was about to set Allure down on the sofa, he hesitated.

"Do you want to join me?"  Grillby asked, his voice a soft crackle-pop of question as he inclined his head toward the armchair.

Allure leaned in closer to his friend's shoulder, huddled under the large warm jacket.

The fire monster sat down on the armchair without another word.

Allure shakily let out a breath while Grillby carefully arranged him on his lap, keeping the jacket over his shoulders as Allure was and cradled carefully to Grillby's chest. The fire monster’s touch was light when his arm loosely wrapped around Allure’s waist from behind, reaching up to rest on his shoulder, to brace to brace him from falling over. The other fiery hand tentatively reached up to pet along the back of Allure’s skull soothingly.

"You're the warmest bed and blanket combo I've ever had the pleasure to experience, Grillbz." Allure weakly joked, leaning into the hand that moved to warm a cheekbone. But his words drew out a huff of laughter from the other and a fond gentle pat to Allure’s upper back. Closing his sockets and resting his skull heavily into a shoulder to soak in the ambient heat.

”…would you like me to call your brother?” Grillby asked after some minutes had gone by. “You would have been home by now.”

”Nah, he’s off at Undyne’s today. I’ll just send him a message in a bit to let him know I’m hanging out here with you.”

“He will know.” Grillby gently reminded him.

“Yeah.” Allure sighed; he knew that his brother was going to feel terrible that he hadn’t been there for his brother. But it wasn’t Papyrus’ responsibility to make other monsters not treat Allure like an object.

“Rest, Sans.” A low hiss and fizzle rose in the quiet as Grillby lightly wiped away tears from the corners of exhausted sockets. “I’ll take care of informing your brother. Then we can see how long it takes for him to break into my club and home to give you a hug.”

Allure’s grin twitched up weakly before he allowed himself to break down as he pressed his face into Grillby’s vest and quietly sobbed against him as the fire monster’s arms held him comfortingly, hands lightly running over quivering bony shoulders. Life on the surface hadn't exactly been a terrible thing, but Allure sure as hell hoped that Grillby's actions early that morning brought an end to the harassment once and for all, and that part of Allure's life in the Underground could be put behind him and left there.

The silence wasn't distressing, but comoforting.

Allure really did miss hanging out around his old bar pals, and Grillby's company apart from a quick word here and there.

"Hey, Grillbz?"

The fire monster let out an enquiring noise.

"You think I could switch things up a bit to hang out with you and the others before I left the club this morning." A pause, a hint of an uncertain grin.  "Maybe have some quiet time with ya like this too?"

"Red Bird wins the group bet." Grillby snugly hugged Allure to him for a moment.

"Gee, I feel so loved." Allure lightly teased, leaning into Grillby's shoulder.  "Why wasn't I in on this bet?"

"Because-" Grillby rested his fiery chin on top of Allure's skull lightly, settling a warmth there.  "It was a bet on whether you'd ask to cut back on hours so you could win at cards with the others, and flirt with me more regularly."

"Wow, that transparent, am I?"  Allure hummed.  "When did I flirt with you?"

"Calling me the best pillow and bed combo doesn't count?"  Grillby asked, bemused.

"Damn, I didn't even notice."  Allure uncurled, a twinge of unease still in his soul from earlier but sensing a chance to make the morning better.  "Wanna keep being my hot, hot bed for the morning?"

Grillby snorted softly, a slash of a smile crossing the flames.

"Just gettin' warmed up." Allure assured the fire monster, cuddling into Grillby's chest as his ribs heaved with a slow sigh.  "Can't hold a candle to your flames."

Grillby placed a hand over the area of his eyes as he removed his glasses and set them aside before securely holding Allure close again, but with the option for the skeleton monster to pull away if need be.

"I ain't gonna be able to fall asleep."  Allure said after a few minutes of silence.  "And if I do, it might be nightmares with a side of blaster dodging."

"I know."

"S'fine?"

"Yes, Sans, it's fine."  Grillby agreed.  "I've taken your blasters before."

"Right." Allure grimaced at the memory of the last time, back Underground, but was reassured hearing Grillby didn't hold it against him, considering the circumstances. " Thanks."

"Of course."  Grillby settled in the armchair comfortably.  "Do you mind if I sing?  I'm feeling nostalgic, and it will calm my LV somewhat."

"Not gonna say no." Allure said, immediately leaning his skull to the side to rest closer to Grillby's chest, and to side eye him. And then, shyly.  "I like the sound of your fire."

"Flatterer."  Grillby wore a genuine smile within the fires passing over his face.

Allure felt comfortable enough to free his hands from the jacket wrapped around him to give Grillby finger guns and a wink of a socket.

Grillby pressed the side of his face to the top of Allure's skull, before leaning back to stare across the room at the fireplace that had a low burning fire.

Allure could feel Grillby calm, his fires quieting, before he slowly, hesitantly began to sing unfamiliar tunes, before it evened out with more confidence, rustic and raspy and wonderfully vibrating within the chest as Grillby's soul tuned in with the music he was creating.  Allure's sockets eventually slipped down, the softer melodies lulling him closer to sleep, even if he knew he would find no rest that morning, or even later in the day. As Allure breathed easier, he found himself sparing a moment of thought to Killer, despite what Allure had just gone through.  He hoped that, wherever Killer was, he was okay.  Allure hoped that Killer would visit again, despite the other Sans' worry of bringing trouble to Allure's home world via his horrible boss.

Unfortunately, Allure had no idea that he would not be seeing Killer for the foreseeable future. 

While Allure rested with Grillby in his small abode over the club, seeking comfort in the fire monster's presence, neither Grillby nor Allure noticed the darkness and shadows that slowly moved along the outside of the windows, frost tinging the glass.

No one in the club noticed the negative and chill in the air that began to show up more and more the following weeks and months, until it was too late.

Allure would find his life, as well as that of his brother's and Grillby's, was turned completely upside-down.

Allure did not blame Killer for the change, but another.

Nightmare.

~

"-That's silly, brother!  Why would Fluffy Bunny do that?" A babybones Papyrus asks.

"'cause that's how he got to his friend's party." The slightly older Sans responds.

"But why did he not go with everyone else?"  Papyrus pouts when a hand pats his skull and waves it away with a smaller one.  "Sans!"

"It's 'cause he wanted to surprise his friend."  Sans replies with a soft, patient grin. "Had to make sure not to spoil it."

The babybones squints his sockets at his brother, puzzling it out before his small sockets widen. 

"Surprise." Sans says as he offers a small, haphazardly wrapped present. He smiles over the way Papyrus lights up, little hands reaching out-

Killer heaved a breath in, choking on it as the pain in his body nearly doubled him over as he went from sleeping to awake in an instant.

Funny.

He hadn't experienced anything less than a nightmare for such a long time that something so bittersweet from before all the resets began hit harder than any night terrors. Because it reminded Killer of what he no longer had and would never have again, thanks to the removal of his home universe.

Papyrus...

Killer wheezed a broken, hitching laugh-sob, before quieting. Groaning, dizziness gripping his skull, Killer slowly came to further, becoming more aware of his surroundings. Another pang of bitter nostalgia that came along with the not-nightmare he'd just been dreaming about passed over him again.  Killer was in what appeared to be his house but knew that it was just another au's version of it. From out of the corner of his socket, he could see the living room window, and part of a wall.

That was it.

From where Killer was seated, half slumped, really, in an armchair that he'd been allowed to sleep on, he stared unseeingly. He wasn’t on the floor, like he ought to have been.

Like he deserved.

Killer issued out an exhausted, tumbling chuckle. 

He wouldn't have treated himself like he deserved anything nice, after what he'd done, willingly or not.

He hadn't been dusted.

He'd been captured.

Nightmare would kill Killer himself, depending on how terribly this went.

Killer caught sight of blue light, just barely preventing himself from moving, and enduring further pain.  He inspected the precautionary blue bone attacks that ran through both his arms to keep them pinned to the arms of the chair in two different places (radius and ulna).  Killer, detached somewhat from his body with his soul wavering over his chest, vaguely wondered if he ought to tug on them, just to try and get the whole 'being put out of his misery' done with faster.

He didn't move.

Coward.

He couldn't do anything right, even if it would prevent Nightmare from further manipulating him.

Killer's sockets close wearily as he dimly noted the gravity magic that rode heavily on his unstable soul.

He won't fight back; he’s simply too worn out.

Besides, Killer had wanted to be stopped.

So here he was.

All that was left was to find out how that would be done.

Killer soon began to hear voices speaking, but he didn't bother listening to them at the moment.  Not until they directly addressed him, if at all.

Useless.

Killer couldn't do anything right with his life.

He-

A brief sense of alarm shot through Killer's soul when he felt a warm, comforting aura almost carefully settle around him. 

Killer doesn't fight it.

After all, that didn't work well against Nightmare's chilling aura, so why would this one be any different?

It was better to just let it happen. 

The warmth grew.

Killer let out a slow sigh, feeling himself relax fraction by fraction as the fear, uncertainty and bitter self-loathing he was spiraling within was replaced with a contentment. Something Killer hadn't experienced for a very long time. With that unfamiliar aura came an equally warm, calming presence that made Killer feel almost safe for once.

Hilarious.

"Can you hear me?" A voice asked, quietly, from somewhere behind Killer.

It should have come off as dangerous, for there to be someone he couldn't see, but Killer merely hummed his assent.  It was like he didn't have a care in the world, and he almost felt happy.

Wow.

What a change.

Sarcasm fully intended.

If only he could actually experience true happiness, but Killer knew better to think that he would be allowed anything but this false sense of peace.

"We’re going to ask you some questions." The same quiet voice added.

Killer merely hummed in response. 

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah.”  

“To clarify, when a question is asked, I need you to be as honest as you can when answering.” A pause, then in a discomforted way. “If not, we will have to resort to unpleasant ways to retrieve the information we need to learn.”

What the hell, why not?

It wasn't like Killer was going to get out of this alive once Nightmare tracked him down.  Killer might as well be more honest than he normally would allow himself to be. After all the time spent with Nightmare, the threat wasn’t the worst he’s heard. Killer would have answered anyway, regardless of the threat.

”Sure, hit me with ‘em.” Killer issued out with a wheezy little laugh. “Anything to fuck Nightmare over with.” Killer felt someone ping his soul; it felt different than a Sans, almost a rough check. This assumption was confirmed when a Papyrus' voice laced with incredulity spoke.

"He's not lying."

That voice sounded awfully familiar, and not just because it reminded Killer of his brother's.

"You won’t keep secrets about Nightmare?” The first voice sounded dubious.

"Fuck him." Killer repeated with a bit of a slur.

Huh.

Guess his magic was not quite free of the earlier chloroform the Swap Papyrus used on him.

"Waddya wanna know?"

Not much better, but hey, look at that, he was able to at least form short sentences.

Killer’s words brought a lot of confusion among whoever else was gathered in the living room, apart from mystery voice and the oddly familiar Papyrus one.

A lot of arguing, too.

Killer kind of just…lie there.

Listless on the armchair, distant in a way, while his injuries ached dully. The warm aura that encompassed Killer like a blanket made it hurt less.

It was nice.

He didn’t deserve the warmth.

Killer hummed idly as he waited for the interrogation to start. He wasn’t kept waiting for long, when the first voice spoke to Killer with great weariness.

”What does Nightmare have planned? What is his end goal?”

Finally.

”Don’t know.” Killer sighed as he resisted rolling a shoulder. Luckily, he avoided jostling the blue bone attacks. “He just sends me off on missions. Doesn't tell me what he's doin' with the info I pass off.”

”What would your best guess be?”

“Seems like dunking the whole multiverse in negativity.” Killer’s skull leaned back, a few trickles of determination sliding down from his sockets as he stared up at the ceiling. “Think he wants to kill the guardian of positivity if he’s able to. He sure does seem to get pissed whenever they interfere.”

“Nightmare doesn’t confide anything to you?” The first voice appeared to be the interrogator, the others in the room content to not speak apart from whispers.

The question clicked.

“Why the hell would he bother with what amounts to a disposable pawn?” Killer let out a hollow laugh. “Heh. Or lackey, I guess, was another term being tossed around.”

”He does not treat you well?” 

Trepidation.

Worry.

Dread.

”Why would he?” It was Killer’s turn to be confused.

“What would happen if he knew you’d been captured?” The speaker sounded pained.

“Dust me probably.” Killer promptly answered. “Depends on how badly this capture fucks up whatever plan he has in mind.”

Horrified silence greeted Killer’s matter of facts words.

”What of failed missions?” The first voice now held dread and…was that a hint of guilt?

Interesting.

Killer was only too happy to inform his interrogator and audience about how awful Nightmare was to him. He talked at length about the beatings, if Nightmare so much as sensed a trace of rebellion, or just because the guardian felt like it. The injuries inflicted upon Killer to force him to act a certain way.

Why was Killer carelessness in some aus?

Why, that was because Killer would at times be expected to carry out missions with wounded limbs, ribcage, or tender soul forced to experience a full range of emotion.

How did Killer not fall to dust?

Why, that’s due to Nightmare forcibly healing those injuries, and possibly doing something to his unstable soul to prevent Killer from dusting.

Killer almost cheerfully, and morbidly, detailed some of the ways Nightmare tormented his mind, specifically the night terrors that forced Killer to relive terrible moments if his life or to be witness to old memories that went from good to bad.

Oh right.

Had Killer mentioned the way Nightmare toyed with him via words? Or the way Nightmare enjoyed breaking his arms and legs first to prevent escape, even when the guardian of negativity held him with those cold tentacles? Frigid and crawling sensation along his bones, with Killer unable to escape and was held at the mercy of someone who made it clear he was disposable, but that was Nightmare’s decision to make and not Killer’s. He had to live until Nightmare decided he was too much of a liability to keep him alive.

It wasn’t Killer’s choice to make.

It never was.

He’d never get back that control, would he?

Killer would never have a choice in what his life would or wouldn’t be now that his home verse was gone.

Killer hadn't noticed he’d started crying as he went on his increasingly hysterical tirade, but Killer did flinch in response to a skeleton monster wearing golden and white clothes with a golden circlet on their brow as they knelt in front of Killer, where he could see them.

“Dream.” The UnderSwap Papyrus, warned.

“It’s fine.” The skeleton monster said, eye lights not moving from Killer’s empty ones.

It was then that Killer realized this ‘Dream’ is the one with the bright, warm aura that was settled around him. The name that the Swap Papyrus mentioned when he was picking Killer up (capturing him) to bring him here.

Wherever 'here' was.

As Killer studied Dream, he noted the soft yellow eye lights were dim, sockets and brow bone pinched with unnatural exhaustion. Killer could read the upset in the other skeleton’s facial features.

“You really don’t want to work for him.”

A statement.

“No, I don't.” Killer weakly agreed, dimly acknowledging to himself that Dream must be the guardian of positivity. “I’d rather…I...I-" Killer’s voice caught. He’s currently feeling more emotions the longer he’s within Dream’s aura. “I’d rather have stayed in my dead au, but Nightmare…he-he stalked me. Taunted me. Made me have…night terrors. He dragged me out of my au. Made Error destroy it-“ Killer noted the way Dream twitched at the destroyer’s name. “Nightmare gave me false hope to get me through my ‘acclimation’ to the negativity in his castle. But it was my fault for thinking I could go back home. He never told me one way or another until I survived.” Killer closed his sockets. “Made me do those missions and healed my injuries, after making it pretty damn clear he wouldn’t let me dust. He didn't want to waste more time finding another 'Killer'.”

Dream was quiet, though he was obviously becoming further upset and saddened when Killer broke down as he continued on, voice shaky and despairing as he began to beg for things to end.

“Please. I’m so tired.” A flicker of a pale eye light surfaced in Killer’s socket. Unbeknownst to him, his soul had taken the form of a normal monster soul despite the vibrant red remaining. “Don’t let Nightmare find me. I…I can’t keep doing this. He made me kill other monsters when I refused to, and I don’t remember, until the night terrors I’m forced to go through. It makes me feel as if I was there.” Tears slid down through determination, thinning the black ichor. “Please, just let me die. I’ve already lost everything." A pained expression flashed over Killer's features.  "Almost everything...I met someone.  Another Sans.  Talked a lot.  Think he liked me yammering on and on.  Liked that I treated him like a person and I-" Killer opened his sockets to look directly at Dream.  "I don’t want to give Nightmare any reason to go after that Sans if he finds me here. He made my life less like I was living a second hell, for the short amount of time I was allowed there.  When I wasn’t out going on what seemed like endless missions. I felt almost like a normal monster again when I was in that au. Not a killer who’s lost everything over and over again, only to get the shitty end where I still have no control."  Killer shuddered out a breath, voice a low whisper.  "Please. I don’t want Nightmare to manipulate my soul and body into automatically forcing me to work until I dust, and I wouldn't be able to even scream as I do that work.”

Silence.

Absolute silence reigned in the room.

“I…” Killer wondered if he did something wrong and was quick to speak again. “Whatever you all want to do with me…just do it. If none if you wanna dust me, just leave me in some fell verse. Someone’ll come across me pretty quick and take up the EXP present practically dropped on 'em.” Killer didn’t prevent the tears and determination from trickling down his cheekbones as his voice dropped to a quieter, broken whisper. “I can’t go back. I don’t want everything to start all over again. I don’t want to be back in that castle, drowning endlessly in that negativity.”

A gloved hand gripped Killer‘s hand as the warm aura pulsed over him.

That grasp was what Killer focused on versus the quiet arguments going on behind the armchair Killer was lying there. Some monsters seemed to leave through portals, perhaps to go find or speak with others. Or maybe they'd talk about whether continuing an interrogation of a useless monster that had no useful information to offer was worth it.

A hesitant, near-whisper of a song reached Killer, and even though he didn’t understand the words being spoken, the peace and calm continued on.

”Please.” Killer eventually choked out.

“Rest.” Dream soothingly pet the back of Killer’s fingerless gloves. “I’ll know if he appears.”

Killer unwillingly relaxed, more so than he ordinarily allowed himself to be, but perhaps that was Dream's aura helping with that. But even so, Killer was not detracted from the lurking danger that was Nightmare.

Eventually, footsteps approached.

Killer reluctantly opened his sockets to find several monsters standing behind Dream.

A worried Toriel, a watchful adult Asriel, two Alphys, three Undyne, several Sans variations as well as a few Papyrus, including the Swap one and one solemn-looking Asgore.

Killer’s desperate plea for them to dust him before Nightmare came for him died on his non-existent tongue. From the expressions on the other monster’s faces, his request wouldn’t be granted. But…perhaps temporary sanctuary would be, in order to interrogate him for further information?

Dream’s presence and aura was the only thing that prevented Killer from a complete breakdown or the final shattering of his battered soul.

But Killer didn’t have any idea just how violently his life was about to be uprooted.

The warm aura retracted in an instant, at the same time Dream let go of Killer’s have with an agonized yet apologetic whisper of ‘I’m so sorry.’

Dread filled Killer’s soul as he was rudely torn from his haze. His sockets widened in horror upon Nightmare’s sudden wrathful appearance within the house as the guardian began to destroy anything and anyone within his range.

Nightmare’s icy cyan eye light was fixed on Killer, and only Killer, as the guardian attacked.

Killer’s sockets slip closed, terrified resignation sinking its claws into him as his bones began to softly rattle. He thought he heard the swap Papyrus yell for Dream to run. A protest, but another monster must have grabbed Dream, because the warm aura was gone. And with his exit, there was only the slowly growing, heavy flood of cold negativity bearing down on anyone left within the house.

The blue bone attacks remained skewered through Killer’s arms.

Swap Papyrus had remained behind.

But even if the blue attacks hadn’t been there, Nightmare’s negativity itself was enough to prevent Killer from even thinking of getting up.

“Pathetic.” Nightmare approached Killer, tendrils lashing as the guardian appraised him with that single glowing eye light. Despite the indifference, Killer could read what little he could see of the other’s face.

Nightmare was beyond fury.

Killer writhed with an agonized shout as Nightmare held onto the blue bone through his left ulna and radius, yanking it viciously from side to side, grinding bone. “It appears that I was mistaken with your usefulness. A shame, that I must start over once more.”

There it was.

Killer was unlikely to live through whatever Nightmare was about to do to him.

With blue magic still pinioning him, there was nowhere for Killer to run, and no way to protect himself. All Killer could hope for was that Nightmare would take out his building rage out on him and not Allure’s au. Killer would accept an agonizing end to ensure this, if only because Killer firmly believed that Allure and Hex didn’t deserve negativity being directly brought to their home au.

A wet, sickening snap rang out in the silence.

Killer cried out; attention was instantly diverted to his left arm. He shook, gasping as tears began to fall while Nightmare disinterestedly began to break the humerus, then the other bones, bit by bit.

It didn’t dust.

Nightmare prevented the limb from dusting as Killer shrieked, agony flaring as his soul pulsed with desperate pleas for help.

No one came.

The guardian of negativity ignored the trembling as he proceeded to break Killer’s left femur with a single strike of a tentacle to the middle of the bone.

Killer’s magic struggled to hold the two pieces together. Sobs of pain wracked Killer’s body as the tendrils snapped at his chest, shattering ribs and cracking the sternum, while Nightmare allowed the floating ribs to fall to dust.

The blue attacks vanished.

Killer almost doesn’t notice; his left arm was so fucked up he barely felt anything. But Killer saw, through unimaginable pain and tears, that the Underswap Papyrus had redirected his attacks to Nightmare, appearing behind the guardian.

It was useless.

Nightmare dusted the swap Papyrus without even turning to look, his entire focus on Killer.

But Killer looked.

He watched-

And pushed regret, as well as apology, into his expression for the split second the Swap Papyrus briefly met his gaze.

Killer had no idea if it registered before Swap Papyrus died.

But the regret and apology vanished into agonized burning, Killer redirected to Nightmare as a tentacle wrapped around Killer’s broken femur, tugging him along wordlessly through a portal.

Killer brokenly sobbed, uncaring about the fact that his suffering was only empowering Nightmare with his suffering.  But Killer was unable to protect himself, mentally or physically, as he endured more broken bones in his left wrist and fingerbones, followed by his pelvis and then his right wrist.

Nightmare emerged on the other side of the portal.

Killer was barely conscious at this point the pain was so great.

Nightmare’s expression was terrifying in that it looked too normal but for the very bright pinprick of an eye light.

This would not end well.

Was Nightmare even going to allow him to die?

Would he make Killer lie here in a seemingly dead world, to suffer, and make Error prevent anyone from entering this universe? Or would Nightmare bring him to the castle dungeon to lie there wasting away until Nightmare finally allowed him rest when he was no longer a source of negativity to siphon from? Or worse, would Nightmare make good on his promise to force Killer’s body to obey his commands, until Killer was dust from little to no rest? 

The uncertainty lingered for a time, but none of this ended up happening.

Nightmare did something else. 

He had already made it clear what he planned to do.

Start over.

This meant that the guardian of negativity would either try his luck with another Killer, the ‘11th’ one, or bring some other poor bastard to the castle to play mind games with until they broke and acted as he wanted them to. 

Funny, that Killer even had enough life left in him to spare a speck of pity to some monster he wouldn’t ever meet.

Tendrils constricted around Killer’s broken left femur.

A whimper.

Nightmare had no words for a monster that was no longer useful to whatever twisted goal lurked within the guardian of negativity.

The snow beneath Killer was a cool balm when he was briefly released. But there was no comfort as a bitterly icy tendril slowly curved around Killer’s target-like soul, allowing the dread to seep in. Killer’s gaze was on the snow falling overhead, breath shuddering out only for it to become a wordless shriek of unimaginable agony as the tentacle constricted around his soul. 

Crushing it.

Killer convulsed on the snowy ground but was denied even his voice as Nightmare let the tendril continue to squeeze, until Killer felt cracks begin to litter his soul.

All at once, Nightmare let go of the broken, yet not shattered, soul.

Killer doesn't move.

He can't move.

But Killer does twitch his limbs uselessly as a searing pain tore throughout his entire body, while Nightmare created a portal beneath him. Killer was carelessly dropped into a blank white space, before the guardian of negativity vanished, taking his frigid, dead-feeling presence and negativity with him.

Alone.

It was quiet.

It hurt.

Killer struggled to take in breaths, his magic uselessly trying to figure out to do with him.

Quiet.

Pain.

It hurt.

He wasn't dust.

Was this...Nightmare's doing?

Heh.

Heheheheh.

Despite the agony, Killer knew what this meant. Nightmare had decided, once and for all, that Killer had lost his usefulness, and therefore, the guardian couldn’t be bothered to deal with him any further. Killer had been left here in this white space to bleed out. His shattered ribcage heaved up and down in short bursts, broken body otherwise lying motionless, limbs in painful positions where he'd been discarded like a broken toy deemed unworthy to keep.

Alone.

He was all alone.

It hurt.

It ached.

A dull flare of agony flooded his body, in some places more than others.

Bleeding, soul cracked and eerily still as well as dim over his broken ribcage and sternum, Killer wheezed breaths in and out, just to hear something.

Quiet.

Too quiet.

Labored breaths, despite having no lungs.

Killer dimly noted that his left arm was mostly numb, but what he could still feel of it hurt like a bitch. A hazy white eye light appeared within his left socket before it guttered out.

There wasn't anything to see here.

Just white.

A blank slate.

Heh.

It was quiet here.

...maybe Killer should finally let things end, if  Nightmare didn't keep him alive in this state for an indeterminate amount of time, that is.

"K-Ki-Kill-errr?" A glitchy sounding voice suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. "I-Is that-t you-ou?"

The voice was near.

It sounded familair.

...it hurt.

Once small motion caused a flare-up of terrible, mind-numbing pain.

From hazy vision after the pain dissipated somewhat, Killer found himself staring up into the face of an exhausted Error.  Killer hadn't seen the error riddled black-boned monster since he'd first been taken from his home au, and later, when Killer had been in the dungeon having his code fucked up because Nightmare was an asshole.  The clothing of black, red, blue and yellow was the same, if more torn and ragged looking than before.  Error's left eye light was not lit at all, showing a blank back lit red socket, the socket itself holding nasty cracks all around the bone, as if Error had been struck roughly there.  Considering Nightmare had been in a poor mood as of late, it wasn't a surprise that the guardian would take it out on anyone he could find, and Error was apparently very easy to come across for Nightmare, as Killer had been.

Bastard.

"Da-damn-n."  Error breathed out as he assessed Killer, jaw clenching as error signs and boxes flickered rapidly along the Destroyer's body. "Fucking Ni-nightma-are."

Killer couldn't do much at this point, so all he did was stare up at Error while the other skeleton monster paced in agitation in and out of view, presumably swearing under his breath all the while.  Killer must have briefly lost consciousness, because next thing he knew, he was sucking in a sharp breath and letting out a pathetic moan of pain as he was being wrapped up in...blue string?  Killer's sockets close as his breath hitches, unwittingly making the determination run thin with tears as he let Error do...whatever it was he was doing. There was no ill intent, and it was sad that that was enough to make Killer relax and not fight as Error swiftly yet carefully bound his broken bones to try and prevent further bleeding. A tap to his shoulder had Killer exhaustedly forcing his sockets open again to watch Error sign at him.

'My hands are tied in what care can be provided in this multiverse that Nightmare won't be able to sense.'  Error looked defeated but there was a little gleam in his right eye light.  'But I can get you out. As a way for both of us to do a petty act of revenge toward Nightmare and his chokehold on this multiverse.'

Killer doesn’t understand what Error is going on about, but Killer did like the idea of giving Nightmare the middle finger in some way. But he was unable to convey this, as Killer's voice failed him. All he can do currently is focus on breathing through the waves of pain. It was difficult, as simple as the concept seemed. The agony only seemed to increase, and it didn't seem to be a good sign that Killer lost some time again as he found himself being carefully bundled up in a golden-yellow and colorful ink-splattered pattern of a crocheted blanket. Beneath, Killer's bones had been hastily set, not too firmly, but enough to keep the limbs together, and staving off further bleeding.  Catching his breath, Killer glanced up at Error, to find that the other was signing again.

'There is always the option for me to unravel your code, if you want to die.' Error's eye light flickered.  'But I won't let that happen, unless you actually want that.'  Error knelt down alongside Killer, and reached out, hesitating a moment.  But more for himself, it seemed, as Error cupped the side of Killer's skull, the Destroyer's hand rippling with error signs. But Error doesn’t move his hand away as he stared intently instead, first at Killer's very dim eye light in one socket, before Error glanced down at Killer's battered yet not shattered soul. Error sighed wearily at the scrap of hope he saw that remained, noting that Dream was slowly letting go of his influence, as if picking up on Error's plan. Error glanced back at Killer's face.

Dammit.

Error could see that Killer desperately wanted to believe his signed words; Killer wanted to believe that Error could take him away from all of the pain and agony he'd been experiencing and be brought to a place where Killer could have a chance to just exist somewhere without all that weighing him down.

Error looked away, expression hardening.

Bringing Killer to another multiverse would likely break Nightmare's lingering hold over him. It would also cause a worsening of the injuries without Nightmare preventing Killer's wounds from dusting piece by piece.  Bringing Killer to another multiverse would also end Dream's interference as well, of the guardian of positivity protecting the sliver of hope that had allowed Killer the little extra strength and mental fortitude to survive around Nightmare.

The way he was letting go now, the guilt clearly getting to the guardian of positivity.

Error wasn't happy with Dream over that initial decision, but Error couldn't deny that Nightmare had been kept occupied long enough with Killer that Dream and his other allies were able to go around and gather more help.  But looking at the result, of a broken monster clinging to life with a promise of something different than what they've known...Error didn't know what to believe. Damn him for forcing Killer to go through all the shit Nightmare put him through for the good of the whole multiverse.  But Error would back Dream's crazy plans, now that Nightmare had him cornered in the anti-void these past few months especially.  After all, it was only Error that prevented Nightmare from finding Dream, and Error would hold out for as long as he could before Nightmare broke him too much. 

Killer's shuddering, pained breaths drew Error's attention back to the monster wrapped in a blanket that lingered with comforting intent.

Intent from Ink and Dream, when they used to visit Error in the anti-void to keep him company. Long before Nightmare decided he wanted to play god and try to bend the entire multiverse to his whims when it wasn't doing what he wanted.

Whatever it was.

Error had long since stopped trying to figure out what that corruption possessed dead body wanted, apart from more negativity.

Maybe it was a simple as that. 

With the way everything was going to shit in this multiverse, and at a quicker pace, too...Error had to admit to himself that it was likely that he'd never get to relax under the blanket with Ink and Dream ever again. Might as well give it to someone who could use the comfort after being used as a plaything by someone much more powerful than them.

"It-It-t won’t be easy coming-ing-g back fr-from this-s." Error mumbled to the motionless monster, noting bitterly that his hand had stopped glitching from where he carefully cradled the side of Killer's skull. Damn, he missed those two idiots, and the not-painful hand holding he was able to eventually give to them, when they all piled together on his stolen beanbag to watch Undernovela.

Killer twitched a hand within the blanket, a wheezy breath issuing out pathetically. His hazy eye light flickered inside a socket, before steadily meeting Error's remaining one.

"Heh." Error's good socket closed as his multicolored fingertips twitched against Killer's cheekbone.  Then, with a slow exhale, Error moved his hand away to look back down at Killer. "You sure-re?"

Killer retained eye contact, even if it was clear he was fast losing consciousness again.

Another sigh.

Dammit.

It was going to take a hell of a lot out of him to tear open a portal like that, but hell, one way or another, Error would do his damndest to get at least one monster out of this shithole of a multiverse.

Killer huddled within the blanket, his sockets now closed.

"Determination ri-ridden abominations a-are such da-damned stubborn f-fools." Error bared his teeth in a wide grin. “I-I’ll get you outta he-here-re.”