Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Machine
You had woken up that morning just as you would any other: with a loud groan, a moment to consider calling in sick to work, and eventually – after a few extra minutes of staring blankly at your ceiling – getting yourself out of bed to begin your usual morning routine. You worked two jobs in total with both having completely different schedules; one you worked weekend shifts as a barista at a nearby café, and the other was your usual nine-to-five job as a retail worker in Ebott City. Your housemates always told you that you didn’t need to work so much – after all, they were loaded due to the gold exchange that occurred when monsters first arrived on the Surface. However, you always told them in return that you couldn’t not work – “I would feel like an asshole", you often told them – and an asshole you would feel like indeed.
They had already done so much for you throughout your years of knowing them, so you didn’t need them to buy your groceries and pay your share of bills, too. If anything, it was you who should be doing that for them as thanks for their unconditional love and support. Alas, nearly every time you offer to do something for them, they always refuse it: “you’re saving up for college, aren’t ya?” and “FRIEND, WE DO NOT NEED ANY FINANCIAL ASSISTANCE! KEEP YOUR MONEY SO YOU CAN PAY FOR SCHOOLING!” are very common words you often hear from them.
You did want to go to college since you never got the chance to when you were younger, but you weren’t exactly sure what you wanted to do just yet. Still, a part of you felt guilty about never being able to do anything for them. You weren't rich – far from it, actually – but there had to be something you could think of that they would love. Maybe you could save up some money to buy them tickets to a Mettaton concert? You knew Papyrus was a huge fan of the robotic pop star.
Once you realized how much time you had wasted staring up at the ceiling, you sat up in bed and rubbed your eyes in the hopes it would help wake you up. Your hair was fuzzy and tangled, and you could feel dried saliva stuck to your chin – ew. You yawned and used your hand to cover your mouth, throwing your legs off the side of your bed haphazardly. You weren't expecting your foot to smack into the side of your nightstand, though, causing your lamp to sway side-to-side dangerously and the bottle of water you kept on the table to fall to the ground with a thud.
"Augh – shit!" You hiss out, grabbing your now throbbing appendage as you bring your leg closer to your body. You rock back and forth slightly while your eyes watered up from the pain that had somehow worked its way from your ankle to your knee. Nope, you weren't going to cry... well, not this time at least.
You should really stop throwing your legs so aggressively off your bed – this has happened at least one hundred times by now and, no matter how many times you get hurt, you never seem to learn. You recall one morning when you hit your foot so hard that you managed to completely dislocate your ankle. You remember the looks on Sans's and Papyrus’s faces when they saw you hobble into the kitchen with your broken foot raised off the ground; it was kind of funny remembering how they absolutely panicked at the sight of you in such a state. Though, when you’re a skeleton, broken bones must suck way more than they do for humans.
You looked down and inspected your ankle which was still held tightly in between your hands. Luckily for you, the only thing you found to be wrong was the small bruise slowly forming beneath your skin; you'd gladly take that over a fracture any day. You took a deep breath and stood up from your bed, grabbing and placing the bottle of water back where it belonged.
You babied your ankle for a little bit as you hopped around your room like a rabbit, grabbing a makeup wipe from your vanity to rid your face of any dried saliva and popping a mint into your purse for the ride down to work; you could smell that Papyrus had made breakfast, so there wasn't much of a point in brushing your teeth. The first step of your morning routine, however, was getting dressed in your extremely unflattering work uniform.
Papyrus – ever the charmer – had told you the first time he saw you in the outfit that you looked "LESS WORSE" than everyone else did. It had made you literally laugh out loud when he told you that and, what arguably made it even better, was that he didn’t understand what about his statement you found funny in the first place. The poor skeleton thought it was a legit compliment and it made you double over in a fit of giggles for at least five minutes. You had to tell him that, no, it wasn't as good of a compliment as he thought it was; the poor guy felt so bad afterward.
Once you got your clothes on, the next step in your daily routine was fixing your horrible bedhead. You weren’t really trying to impress anyone at a supermarket, so all you had to do was throw your hair back into a small bun and tame all the flyaway hairs with a few spritzes of hairspray. It wasn’t the most flattering of styles on you, but it was work; if they wanted you to look pretty then maybe they shouldn’t have scheduled you to come in so early.
After grabbing your purse and making sure you had your phone, keys, and wallet, you finally emerged from your room and shut the door behind you. You began your journey down the small stairwell that lead up to your room, reaching the bottom in a few short strides before turning and making your way down the long hallway. The house you currently lived in with your roommates was gigantic – or, at the very least, it was way too big for only three people to be living there.
Sans and Papyrus were, in simple terms, absolutely loaded. They pretty much lived in a mansion out in the middle of the woods that they had shared with some of their monster friends, all of whom eventually left after finding their own places to stay. They had put out multiple fliers and ads throughout the years in an effort to try and rent out some of the rooms to people who needed a place to stay, but you were the only one who had ever reached out to them. It was crazy to think that you had only known the brothers for three years, especially since it had felt like you had known them your entire life.
One of the monsters that the brothers had been living with was Toriel – yes, the queen of monsters Toriel – who had kindly insisted the brothers take the house (aka. she made them take the house). Sans had tried to tell her that he and his brother didn't need so much space but, once Toriel said something, it was pretty much final. You shuttered slightly at the memory that popped into your head: you had once politely turned down a serving of vegetables in favor of a slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie in Toriel's presence. You had to feel her gaze of disappointment from across the table, eating away at your entire being until you finally caved in and ate the greens like a five-year-old child. Sans still makes fun of you to this day because of the glare you had sent toward the vegetables on your plate.
As you descended the main flight of stairs that lead to the living room, you quickly checked your phone for the time – thankfully, you still had plenty of it before you had to leave for work. You pocketed your phone before placing your purse on the recliner, making your way to the kitchen and seeing both skeletons wide awake which, honestly, wasn't all that shocking. Papyrus was always up before the sun rose but, when it came to Sans, it was usually a 50/50 chance of whether or not he'd be up. You had apparently caught him on a good day.
Sans was currently sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of steaming black coffee, a newspaper grasped tightly in his phalanges, while Papyrus cooked up some eggs and bacon. It was still weird to see Papyrus make something edible – you remember the days when he would cook spaghetti for every meal of the day. It was so bad one time that you actually had to go to the hospital to get your stomach pumped; definitely not a fun experience. Amazingly, as long as it wasn’t pasta, Papyrus was a very talented chef; he’s always been quite the enigma.
“Good morning you two! Nice to be able to see both of my favorite skeletons before I go to work.” You say with a smile, taking a seat next to Sans as you playfully bump his shoulder with yours.
He glances over to you from the paper in his grasp, his usual smile plastered on his face as he says, “mornin’ starlight,” His grin grows even wider as he continues to speak, “hey, how’s the foot? me and Paps heard the ruckus all the way down here. you know, it’s quite the feet to be able to be that loud.”
Oh, if he wanted a good-morning pun-war then he was going to get a good-morning-pun-war. You placed your elbows on the counter, resting your chin in your hands as the smirk on your face turned into a shit-eating one. Your smile only widened as you pulled the best foot and/or leg-related puns out of your ass, saying with a gleeful tone to your voice, “Wow Sans, it hurts how much of a kick you get out of my misery! Do you even have a sole? You know, you kneed to start being nicer to me...”
Poor Sans didn’t even get the chance to one-up you (which he could easily do – you really weren't all that great at them) before Papyrus screamed out, “WOULD YOU TWO PLEASE STOP!? IT’S TOO EARLY TO DEAL WITH ONE OF YOUR INFAMOUS PUN-WARS!”
He was standing by the stove, one hand placed on his hip and the other waving the spatula in his hand around menacingly. You smiled as you read the apron tied around his waist: “a penne for your thoughts.” It was one of the best gifts you have ever given Papyrus. Sans had almost died because of his brother's expression when he had unwrapped the gift that Giftmas and you would be lying if you said you weren't close to joining him in the afterlife. Even though Papyrus insisted it wasn’t funny, you still remember the smirk that made its way on his face as he put his present back into the box.
“Sorry about that, Paps. You know how we get sometimes.” Papyrus merely huffed at your response.
“YES, I KNOW ALL TOO WELL HOW YOU BOTH ACT! THOUGH I DO HAVE TO SAY, YOU NEED TOE STEP UP YOUR GAME – YOUR PUNS ARE STARTING TO BECOME STALE!” Papyrus began radiating with pride from his joke as soon as you and Sans burst out laughing; it wasn’t every day that Papyrus joined in on one of your little pun-wars but, whenever he did, it was always a complete shock to both you and Sans. While you were trying to settle down from your giggle fit, Papyrus put a plate of food in front of you, accompanied by a glass of juice and your thermos filled with coffee (made exactly how you liked it).
“Thanks, Papyrus – an amazing chef as always!” His face became dusted in a light shade of peach; he never really got used to your words of encouragement despite you living together for a little over three years now. It made you a bit sad knowing he only ever got words like that from his brother and, occasionally, Undyne.
“ANYONE CAN SCRAMBLE EGGS, YOU KNOW. IT’S NOT THE HARDEST TASK IN THE WORLD.” Papyrus stated, untying the back of his apron as he gently folded it, placing it back into the drawer where he usually stored the article of clothing.
“Don't say that – no one makes them as well as you do." You tell him sincerely as you take a bite, speaking again once you swallowed your food, "I mean, Sans here isn’t able to cook anything besides hotdogs.” You pointed over at the skeleton whose head was now resting on the marble counter; he had apparently decided the newspaper wasn't as interesting as your morning conversations.
“hey, you forgot about hotcats – I have some variety… you guys just need to get out of my grill.” You couldn't help but snicker, trying not to choke on the bacon you had just taken a bite out of.
“BROTHER, I AM JUST GOING TO IGNORE YOU SAID THAT.” Papyrus stated with a poker face as he placed the dishes he had used to make breakfast in the sink to wash later. As he began making his way to the living room, he continued to say, “HAVE A GOOD DAY AT WORK, BOTH OF YOU! I'LL SEE YOU THIS AFTERNOON!” And with that Papyrus left the kitchen to go do something elsewhere while you finished your breakfast and Sans sipped on his coffee. You stopped eating momentarily and turned to look at him.
“Since when did you have a job? I thought you stopped working after the gold exchange.” Your question seemed innocent enough, but to Sans, he knew what you were getting at. Your eyes never left his form as he took a long sip of his drink, sweat beading on his skull as he slowly placed the mug back on the counter and turned to face you.
“Sans,” you warned, voice sounding like that of a mother scolding a child, “you better not be working on that machine. I told you it’s going to get someone hurt!”
“come on, starlight – I’m this close to finishing it, and I can’t just give up now.” He told you, smiling despite the almost nervous look on his skull. You quickly finished eating your breakfast as he spoke, your eyes conveying your fear about Sans’s little project without you needing to say a single word.
You hated that stupid machine. It had blown up more than once and frequently causes the power to short-circuit, usually a minimum of twice a month. You know that it means a lot to Sans – he worked on it with the late Royal Scientist – but he didn’t need to get it to work. Monsters were finally on the surface; they didn’t need a machine that could teleport them out of the Underground anymore. Your brows furrowed the more you thought and you could feel your mood souring more and more as the seconds passed by.
Sans sighing next to you brought you out of your thoughts. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder as he told you, saying with a slight chuckle, “okay, how ‘bout I promise you everything will be fine? I’ll make sure it doesn’t destroy the house.”
You shook your head and stood up from your seat, walking to the sink and placing your dirty dishes alongside the skillet Papyrus had put in there; you’d do them when you got home later that evening. You turned to look at him, leaning against the sink as you said, “Sans, the house isn’t the problem. It’s your safety I'm worried about. I don’t want to come home one day just to find…” You paused to take a deep breath, “a pile of dust in the basement.”
Everything was quiet for a moment, the air so heavy it felt nearly suffocating. You could watch the gears turn in Sans's head at your words; it was like he was trying to think of something to say that would make you feel a little more at peace. The silence didn’t last long, though, as an alarm suddenly rang out from your cellphone you had slipped into the back pocket of your slacks, causing both you and Sans to jump. Oh, it was time to head to work.
You sighed and made your way back over to where Sans was sitting, turning off your “I'm going to be late” alarm. He was sitting there and almost refusing to look at you, apparently still unable to find the right words to say. You stood next to Sans for a moment as your gut screamed for you to do something, so, with a pained smile, you leaned down and embraced him in a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around you after a few seconds, returning the hug with as much vigor.
You squeezed him a little tighter in your arms as you muttered against the hood of his jacket, "You better not die on me.”
“heh, come on. It’ll take a little more than that to dust me.” He told you while rubbing small circles on your back. Though, just from the tone of his voice, you know he wasn’t a firm believer in what he was saying. He was just saying it to make you feel better and it certainly didn’t do what he wanted it to – if anything, you felt worse after his declaration. With a long sigh, you released him from your grasp, pulling away to look at his face.
You both smiled at each other, cracked a few jokes, and then said your goodbyes before you headed outside into the cool spring morning. You had made sure you grabbed your purse, fishing your keys out of one of the pockets as you locked the front door behind you. You walked down the stairs of the front porch and unlocked your car, opening the door and flopping down onto the seat of your parents’ old Geo Prizm. You put the keys into the ignition and started it up, popping the mint from earlier into your mouth before pulling out of the driveway and down the gravel road to the city.
The entire way down the mountain you had a bad feeling stirring in your gut. You were probably just paranoid about that stupid machine – it had blown up a few times before while Sans was down there and he had always come out unscathed – but something was telling you it wasn’t going to be like that this time. If anything, Sans probably jinxed it and tonight will be the night he ends up biting the dust.
You… you didn’t like that pun.
Your mind seemed to have shut off for a little bit and, before you knew it, you were sitting in front of your workplace, hands shaking as you turned your car off and shoved the keys into your purse. You exited your little piece of scrap metal and made your way into the building, instantly being greeted with smiles and “good morning”s by your coworkers. While you did indeed hate the job – working in customer service was an absolute nightmare – the people you worked with made the job much more bearable.
You made your way to the back of the building and into the employee workroom, shoving your purse into your assigned locker and placing your nametag on your vest. You then made your way to your station and sat down on the little wooden stool, beginning the long wait for the day to be over. You had a feeling today would drag on more than usual and just the thought of just being away from the skeletons made you feel sick to your stomach; it had been a while since your anxiety was this bad. You managed to tough it out for seven hours before your superior finally confronted you about your unusual behavior as you finished talking to a customer over the phone.
“Hey, are you feeling alright? You look a little pale.” It was your manager, Travis, that eventually asked you the question you had been dreading all day. You looked him in the eyes and knew you couldn’t get away with lying to him. Travis kind of reminded you of Sans in some aspects – they were both extremely calm, extremely observant, and could tell from a mile away if someone was being dishonest.
“It’s just, uh – my anxiety is kind of acting up today. I’m probably just being paranoid, but it feels like something… bad is going to happen, you know?” Travis just looked you dead in the eyes, face blank as your words hung in the air. The longer the seconds dragged out, the more you felt like a fish out of water; it was almost suffocating. Though, once he finally began to speak, your lungs released the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in.
“Listen, why don’t you head home a bit early tonight? We’ve got plenty of people who can cover you.” He said, brows furrowed in concern as he leaned against the counter in front of you.
You wanted to tell him “no, I’m fine!”, but you knew you weren’t. Usually, you were able to just push through stuff like this, but today wasn't a usual one. You were having problems breathing, your stomach was doing summersaults, and you don’t think you could get any sweatier at this point. You wanted to apologize for just ditching but, almost as if he knew what you were going to say, he told you aloud, “Don’t be sorry about it, either; you’re a good worker who’s never missed a day of work for nearly four years. You can leave a little early so you don’t have a panic attack – just go home and relax, okay?”
“T… Travis, thank you so much; you have no idea how much this means to me. I'll make it up to you, I promise.” You told him truthfully, smiling slightly as you started to stand up from where you had been sitting.
"No need to make anything up to me, just get out of here before someone else sees you. I'll clock you out so you get all your time in." He said, glancing around to make sure no one would see you leave your post almost an hour before you were supposed to clock out. You nodded your head and made your way to the breakroom to retrieve your purse. Once you made sure you had everything you came into the store with, you made your way outside and slipped into your car as you began your trek back up the mountain to your home.
You couldn't help but think as you drove how nice it was to have someplace to call “home” again... how nice it was knowing people were waiting for you and you wouldn't be coming back to an empty house.
When you finally pulled into the driveway and turned your car off, something immediately seemed out of place... it was too quiet. While you usually liked the peacefulness of the mountain and surrounding forest, this silence wasn’t relaxing – it was foreboding. The sun was still out, but it was almost below the horizon at this point. You really didn’t want to add darkness to the already eerie feeling you were getting, so you made your way up the porch stairs, getting your house key out and ready.
Carefully and quietly you walked to the front door, unlocking it with a light click. You grabbed the handle with clammy hands and turned it, pushing open the door while the hinges squeaked out in protest – all you could think at that moment was “what the fuck?” This door has never once made any noise and, the one time you need it to be quiet, it sounds like a freight train is going through the house!
You entered the foyer and made your way to the living room, placing your purse on the coffee table and trying to listen out for one of your housemates’ voices. It was strange – usually Papyrus would have greeted you by now, and neither of them ever turned all the lights off this early. The only logical answer you came to was…
T h a t m a c h i n e.
“Sans, I swear to God if you’re dust, I’m going to raise you from the dead and then kill you myself.” You whispered angrily to yourself as you made your way over to the basement door, testing the knob – it was unlocked. Even though you’ve lived in this place for years now, never once have you ever set foot in the basement; “it’s dangerous,” Sans had told you. No, it wasn’t the basement that was dangerous, it was that machine that was dangerous.
Though, right as you were about to stomp your way downstairs and give Sans the worst lecture of his life, a choir of voices rang out. The voices sounded almost like Sans and Papyrus, emphasis on almost – they were similar, but there was just something off. You could hear your skeletons amidst the chaos, but there seemed to be multiple people downstairs. Some voices sounded deeper, some a bit higher-pitched – they definitely weren’t anyone you knew, though.
Slowly, you began to turn the door's handle. However, as soon as it creaked open, a bone attack shot itself through the thick oak door, causing pieces of wood to splinter and fly around the room. In the process, the attack managed to clip your upper arm. You fell to the ground with a loud thud as a searing pain traveled up your shoulder. You fell hard – so hard it felt like your brain had rattled around in your skull like a bouncy ball. Your hand quickly flew up to where the attack had made contact on your shoulder, immediately putting pressure on the laceration. You could feel your blood oozing out of the wound and in between your fingers; it was warm and sticky and you really needed to get Sans and Papyrus and leave.
“YOU LIED TO US! YOU SAID NO ONE ELSE LIVED HERE!” That… that sounded like Papyrus. You knew it wasn’t him, though; he would never use a tone as cruel as that to talk to anyone. Suddenly the basement door flung open and standing there in front of you was a tall skeleton dressed in a variety of blacks and reds, gold accents adorning the almost uniform-like attire he had on. Your gaze immediately traveled to the two cracks he had that fanned out from his right eyesocket before taking in the expression, a deep frown etched on his skull as he looked at your pathetic form currently curled up on the floor.
A deep voice uttered out, sounding closer and closer with every word, “b-boss, come on, why don’t we just go back downstairs and–”
“Sans,” His tone was deep and hushed as he turned to this… red Sans. The tone of his voice sent shivers up your spine as he pointed down at your form with a gloved finger, his eyelights never once leaving your form as he stated, “It’s A Human.”
The only thing your brain was telling you to do in that moment was to run.
With a sudden rush of adrenaline, you stood up and made your way to the kitchen, completely forgetting the wound on your arm. Your bloodied hand was now clenched in a fist as you sprinted as fast as your legs could take you, tears welling up in your eyes as you heard footsteps behind you. You wanted to make a beeline for the backdoor and then head around to the front of the house, but your purse was still in the living room – the purse that had your keys and phone in it. You knew those two foreign skeletons were right at your tail; you wouldn’t have time for any of that. So instead you ran over to the sink and grabbed what was in there: this morning’s breakfast pan.
“S-Stay back!" The skillet felt heavy in your hands as you yelled out, "Stay back, or you’ll r-regret it!” The words poured out of your mouth like vomit, your voice shaking like an earthquake as you spoke. You turned to face your attackers, holding the pan firmly in front of you. Everything that happened next was so quick you didn’t have time to process it – a barrage of attacks came your way and, at that moment, you saw your life flash before your eyes.
It... It wasn't a life you were all that happy with.
Suddenly a wall of bones appeared in front of you, shielding you from the barrage of attacks as an arm wrapped itself around your neck from behind, holding you tightly in its grasp. Whoever had you in a chokehold took their other hand and forcefully grabbed your wrists, twisting them and causing you to drop the pan that had once been so tightly held in your hands to the floor with a loud clang. A voice rang out from your left as another skeleton made their way into the kitchen. This skeleton was dressed in black with accents of navy blue and silver on the uniform he wore, an air of danger and sophistication radiating from him as he spoke, “SORRY, BUT I CAN'T ALLOW YOU TO KILL THIS HUMAN JUST YET. I NEED TO BRING IT BACK ALIVE – QUEEN'S ORDERS, YOU KNOW."
"I BELIEVE YOU'RE MISTAKEN – I WILL BE THE ONE TAKING THIS HUMAN. THIS IS THE LAST SOUL THE KING NEEDS TO BREAK THE BARRIER, SO GO AHEAD AND CALL OFF THAT MUTT OF YOURS!" The edgier-looking Papyrus exclaimed as he gestured to where you were currently standing. That’s when you felt it against your jugular... something cold and sharp being held against your neck. Your brain caught up with the feeling of a sharpened bone attack being pressed against your skin, causing your breath to catch in your throat. You couldn’t move – you couldn’t even fight back because you knew whoever had you in a chokehold certainly did not care if you were dead or not. Even if you did fight back, they were definitely faster and stronger than you; you were screwed no matter what.
You just stood there while the three skeletons in front of you bickered, taking the time to analyze their features, some of their mannerisms… you couldn’t help but ask in a voice that sounded smaller than it had been in years, “Sans, P… Papyrus, w-what’s going on?”
Three sets of eyelights turned to look at you; well, it was probably four but you couldn’t see the skeleton holding you up to… bone-point? Is that what you’d call it? They all seemed taken aback for a moment, stopping their hostile actions for a brief moment to stare at you. You took the chance to continue, “W-What happened? Did the machine mess up again?”
“how the hell do ya know about the machine?” The red Sans spoke as he glared at you from across the room, his sharp teeth bared as if he were a snarling animal.
Before you could respond a very familiar skeleton was standing in the kitchen’s walkway, sweat dripping down his skull – it was Sans, your Sans. You were relieved when you saw him – you know, someone who wasn’t actively trying to kill you – but you were suddenly filled to the brim with frustration. You told him so many times, “stop messing with that machine, Sans.” He never listened to you and, now, you’ve got a bunch of bloodthirsty skeletons after your soul because of that hunk of junk.
You glared at Sans and spoke, voice hoarse and eyes filled with tears as you hissed out, “I told you to stop fucking with that machine.”