Divided [ Sans X Reader ]

/1\

[ Edited March 12th, 2018]

"It's beautiful, isn't it kiddo?"

Sans looked down at the human before him who stared at the rising sun. There was a glint of crimson in the eyes that stared back at him, the only reminder of a hell he had endured not so long ago. Before him stood what seemed to be the seemingly most powerful child in the universe, a sentiment being able to wipe away whole lives and histories with a simple thought.

Was it right to let a small child determine the fate of humanity?

Perhaps once Frisk had been a child, Sans decided. But they had been through the Underground thousands of times, slaughtered whole villages and towns, torn apart families and butchered friends as if they were nothing. A child was not capable of that, but a sadist, that was more likely.

As it had been for every reset, Papyrus began his descent to the human city that loomed in the distance. Sans felt a flicker of remorse, wanting his brother to stay for at least a little bit longer, wanting to revel in the short time they had let together before Frisk wiped it all away. Undyne followed after Papyrus, eager to begin a new life of her own, unaware that within a short time she would be thrown back into the Underground, unaware of any of this, ignorant to the fact that she was stuck in a never-ending cycle.

Sans felt himself wanting to follow after Undyne, the routine he had done with every reset, but something held him back. For once he felt so damn determined to do something; it was quite an odd feeling. Frisk seemed to catch onto this, stirring uneasily as Sans remained.

Eventually they were left alone with Toriel standing next to Frisk. "Give us a minute." Sans winked at her. It had become a robotic movement to him after all the resets that had gone by. The goat-woman nodded and followed after the monsters, awaiting Frisk in what would soon become an inter-species domination of Earth.

"So when do you plan on resetting?" Sans asked coldly. He didn't recall himself asking this question before and for once, he felt energy pulsing off him.

Frisk looked taken aback at the mention unique powers they had, a reaction that only failed to cease the anger broiling inside of the skeleton. Did they really take him for a fool, for some sort of comedian? Hadn't he already revealed to Frisk all those resets ago that he remembered each and every timeline, begged them to reset, to start over, only in vain as they pushed closer and closer and delivered that killing blow...

"Oh come on, we've already had this discussion before." Frisk winced at the recollection of memories during the genocide battle with Sans, still donning the charade of innocence that had fooled so many of the others.

But not him.

"I-I don't know," Frisk muttered and stared down at the ground. Sans had to fight back a bubble of hysteric laughter; was it possible that Frisk had actually convinced themself that they were just as innocent as they appeared? "It wasn't my fault!" They raised their head to look at Sans. "It was Chara!"

"Don't you dare blame a dead girl for your mistakes." Sans snarled and raised the, from the ground. The world around him faded away. They were suddenly back in the Judgement Hall, a dance between a comedian in a killer, one the very last of his kind and the other his killer. A wave of blue magic had surrounded Frisk and carried her to the edge of the cliff.

"Do you think Chara would want to kill her adoptive mother? Father? Brother?" Sans was fuming now, angered that no one else but him remembered. After all this time, resets of pleading and self-humiliation, no longer would he take it.

Frisk remained silent as Sans flung them to the ground. As Frisk took off running in the distance, Sans felt a wave of guilt. Wait until the others find out.

~

Neither Sans nor Frisk spoke of their encounter for the next three years. They briefly exchanged courtesies and other brief exchanges, but not even Papyrus was oblivious to the tension between the two. Despite Toriel's pleas and Papyrus' constant attempts at reconciliation, Sans and Frisk were hell-bent on their icy distant. Asgore seemed mysteriously pleased with the situation.

Sans calculated that each pacifist ending lasted for about five years, giving Frisk enough time to get bored and complete a different one. Genocide or neutral runs usually followed afterwards.

"Are you going to talk to the human?" Papyrus asked. It had been several years since they had emerged from the Underground, the threat of an impending reset putting the comedian on edge. Sans had fixated himself to the television set, flipping through various channels. One showed a woman talking about the all too familiar anti-monster movements.

"They waste our food supplies. They're a danger to everyone here."

The camera flipped to a bald man. "Could you imagine living underground for thousands of years? Surely they deserve a chance at the surface."

Sans gave a long sigh and flipped through various news stations, all holding similar debates. It had been like this long since they arrived to the surface, where humans took different sides on where the monsters should remain - above or underground. He couldn't recall many timelines where warfare had broken out for Frisk always seemed to reset beforehand.

"Nah, we're perfectly fine." Sans waved his hand, indicating that he didn't want to talk about the matter any further.

"Sans, have you seen Frisk?" Toriel's voice came from the kitchen. Sans replied with a hefty grunt.

"They haven't eaten the spaghetti prepared for them by the magnificent Papyrus!" Sans' brother realized, gesturing to the cold plate of burnt noodles and pasta that sat uneaten on the floor. Though any rational person would refrain from eating it, so it wasn't really a mystery as to why Frisk hadn't eaten it.

But of course if Frisk was truly missing, then a reset was due to happen within a few seconds. Sans closed his eyes and waited for the surroundings to die down, to become the surreal town of Snowdin once more.

And it was all a dream...

But when he opened his eyes, Sans still found himself on the Surface rather than his home back in Snowdin. He looked out the window to see a small figure heading to Mt. Ebott, an odd sense of purpose in its stride. Without another word, Sans launched from his seat and burst out the door, leaving behind Papyrus and Toriel's startled outbursts.

"Frisk, don't!" Sans yelled as the child neared the top of the mountain. The air had taken on a sudden chill, heralding the season of winter that seemed to be right around the corner. The world had gone oddly quiet, not even a cricket dared to interrupt this moment.

Frisk slowly turned around and gave Sans a warm smile, reflecting both the guilt and sorrow that had built within them over hundreds of resets and genocide runs. "It's better this way," Frisk whispered, walking to the skeleton and trailing their fingers against his jawbone. Sans went rigid against the touch, expecting the blow of a knife to accompany it.

Frisk whipped around and faced the gaping black hole that stretched into an unknown world below. "It ends with me," Frisk said and seemed to strengthen themselves for what they were about to do next. With a light sigh, barely audible against the wind, Frisk opened their arms and fell.

A minute would pass, a dreadful one without any end or future. There would be no reset.

Five minutes passed. Sans stared at the empty pit below, wondering what was taking Frisk so long. What was their game in this, drawing out the reset for so long? A dreadful idea was beginning to dawn upon him, one that he refused to acknowledge.

An hour passed. It was then that Sans would be forced to accept the truth, that Frisk had indeed ended their life and chosen not to reset, thus condemning their soul to the Void and ending the cycle of the reset.

A day would too pass, one of much grieving when Toriel and the other monsters learned of Frisk's fate.

And in time a war would pass, and there would be no reset.