Feeling Reborn

A Nightmare of an Aftermath

Little note: I read Healing What has Been Broken again and some other fanfics inspired by that story, and realized that I have still left out important bits; I'll add them in when he lands in a different Multiverse, as flashbacks.
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Lust was safe.

That was all that mattered to Error.

He had called for help.

And someone answered.

Error had called for help for ages in the Anti-Void, but no one came to his aid. Whenever someone, who deserved it, called for help, a compulsive feeling filled him with adrenaline, replenished his magic and nullified his intense pain.

This was the case with Lust.

Being engulfed in white light didn't seem so bad anymore.

The shock wave already snapped several fragile bones, the force itself even disintegrating some. A dust cloud, a large fraction of it belonging to Error himself, rose up in the air.

Everyone held their breath as they tried to peer through the murky air, hoping for the best.

Silence.

A monotonous dripping sound, not unlike a badly closed faucet, rang through the deadly silent plain.

And then, a chuckle, which suddenly broke out into a hysterical, yet broken laughter. As the dust cleared, the famed Destroyer stood amidst the scorched ground and ashes, in all his wrecked glory. He held his head in his hands, sobbing and letting out manic bursts of choked giggles as well as gasps for air.

Blood pooled around him, the thick iron smell dominating the small world. Dust caressed every inch of his body, or rather, what was left of it. As the top part of his clothes had been torn apart, everyone now had an excellent view of his rib cage and his torn-up SOUL. The sickening sight made the majority of the monsters gasp in horror.

First of all, the state of his body. The clearly malnourished bones were torn and broken in various ways, scars blanketing them in infinite layers. Angry, bloody red wounds basically made up his multicolored body of black, red and yellow.

Despite all of this, the center of attention was his SOUL. Not a pretty thing, to say the least. Stitched back together by glowing blue strings countless times, the once-beautiful dark blue, yellow and gray SOUL beat slowly, like someone on the brink of death.  The crude stitches covered up centuries of torment and abuse at their hands.

No one felt any sympathy, apart for Blue and two others: Outer and Lust.

Before they could move a muscle, Error summoned a portal as his limbs gave way and tumbled through an unstable chance portal, which could lead him anywhere in the Multiverse.

On that note, extremely late to the party, someone tore open another portal, this one reeking of negativity and despair, like an endless pit of misery, covered in a sticky black substance, later identified as tar.

"...The f*cking king has arrived"

•••-•••-•••

Error didn't expect soft, puffy, black snow softening his long fall from the underground's ceiling. The trees surrounding him were charred, stripped of bark and leaves, the freezing air whistling through them. The blood leaking from his battered body didn't show in the dark matter, but the familiar, yet insufferable smell filled his senses.

He lazily blinked the drowsiness from his sockets, and saw something even more surprising than this strange hellish AU.

Two skeletons, a Sans and a Papyrus in their child forms, were staring at him with wide sockets, especially the Sans.

Error's first reaction was to shuffle back a little. He didn't want the little ones getting hurt because of Ink or his spontaneous nature. But no matter how far he moved away, the little ones followed, as if he was the little ones' mother.

The last of the bluriness from his vision cleared, and the two's looks were something else.

The Papyrus was pale-boned, as usual, clothed in a ragged white and pale green plaid hospital gown. However, from his back sprouted a small pair of the bone frames of dragon wings- white, with intricate black and golden swirls weaving around the surfaces. His tiny hands were marked similarily. Error could spot numerous bruises blooming on his bones and small cuts on his limbs, providing him with the knowledge that this universe probably didn't have the nicest Gaster ever to have existed.

The Sans was also a white skeleton, dressed in torn white hospital rags, pockmarked with bloodstains, fresh and old alike. Bruises and welts were scattered generously across his thin figure, much worse than his younger brother. Apparently, his magic had been activated, since while his right eyelight stayed a perfect silver orb, his left one a deep ebony with a crimson red star inside, touching the edges. Wisps of golden flames trailed from the edges. That eyesocket was bordered by silver patterns, starting from one of the two horns perched on his head to the bottom of his skull. A long, thin devil's tail trailed behind him like a snake.

In an instant, they crawled into his massacre-of-a-ribcage and hid there, trying to find even the smallest scraps of warmth. The sound of clanging armor rang in the distance, no doubt guards on the lookout for these precious children.

With quite a bit of effort, Error stood up while coughing lightly, flakes of dust floated away peacefully on the dry wind. The only thought coursing through his mind was that of getting the children to safety and somewhere far, far away from him and his tainted hands, dripping with sin.

Despite himself, he shook as he took a step forward, blood now solidifying and drying into clots. He steadied himself to a slight limp and continued on his slow march to wherever his legs were leading him. Pain shot up and arched up his spine with every movement he made, and did his best to ignore and nullify the excrutiating agony.
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As fast as lighting, the infamous King of Negativity struck Ink with such force that he flew a couple of yards back before a slam on a dead tree trunk broke his flight painfully.
Before Ink could bat an eye, Nightmare grabbed and lifted the shorter one by the scarf, ignoring the crowd surrounding him.

Right on cue, four unique portals appeared around the goopy skeleton.

Out of them stepped the most feared group in the entire Multiverse, composed of killers, murderers, insane spirits and rage.

The Bad Sanses.

They came in with the same hateful look on their faces, weapons and magic at the ready.

Nightmare glanced at them and back at the 'good side'.

"Now, answer my question, or this piece of sh*t will go through the worst form of torture existing in this goddamn universe."

"Where. Is. Error?"
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Heyyyy another chapter, definitely worse than the last one! :D

Hope you enjoyed~~~~