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Two hundred.

Two hundred Resets since...

There had to be a joke somewhere in here but Sans couldn't think of one. The world blurred again as he stared down at her - at them. The world blurred and reset. He saw them walking down the hall again, the knife in their white-stained hands. There was a joke in here somewhere...But he'd burn in Hell before he thought of it.

The kid was fast, he had to give them that, but at their LVL, that was no surprise. He was faster though and despite being the "weakest" of monsters, at the same time, he was the only one who could truly give them such a run for their money. He held his hand out and a Blaster appeared behind him. He fired and it missed. He knew it would. Two hundred Resets and Chara was starting to learn his game. They were beginning to notice his patterns and while he could count the Resets, he could never remember what happened in them so soon. It would usually take days, nightmares, time...and time was no longer on his side.

If only he had realized something was wrong before...if only he had acted after Papyrus...

He should have never left Papyrus to go alone that day. He should have been with him - he should have been there. He should have ended this before it had gotten so out of control. Now he had lost everyone. The entire world was at risk and he couldn't afford not to care anymore but that was the thing see...

He didn't care. He already felt dead so what did it matter if the world died too?

He slammed his hand down, bringing Chara down as well. Their neck snapped and he saw a thin line of drool escape their lips as their death rattle played again for him. He shuddered...How could he keep doing this to Frisk? But Frisk was gone. Chara had consumed their soul. Frisk - their friendship, their future - was gone.

Two hundred and one...

He watched them, their face frustrated, a twitch running across it. They were making a scary face, the heart-shaped locket bouncing on their chest as they walked. He wanted to believe was Frisk. He did. He wanted to believe that this Judgement was going to be peaceful...but he knew he was just being lazy. He didn't want to fight anymore. He was so very tired. But he was determined too - to stop them. He had to. He had to do it for Frisk, for Papyrus, for the world. 

I can't give up. I won't he thought, feeling the magic build in his ribcage. He held up his hand, furrowing his brow and preparing for battle once more. 

"Give up!" Chara yelled with Frisk's voice. He didn't answer them, swiping his hand to the side, catching their soul and slamming them against the wall. They hit it hard, a thin stream of blood running down the side of their face. Their one arm was broken, he could tell from the way they held it. They got up and charged again though with no thought for themselves - only in the victory they thought they deserved. 

In the victory they thought would let them destroy the world. They never saw the Blaster above them and it struck them nearly full force. He expected them to die. Instead they stood there, that creepy grin still on their face. They reminded him of a corpse. A sick, twisted corpse, with blood running down their face, a grin twisted eternally on their face. His hand almost trembled as he lifted it again, summoning bones to stab at them, this time impaling them half a dozen times, killing them.

He stepped up to stand before them, blood soaking into his slippers. He saw their head turn, ever so slightly to look up at him, still grinning. A death rattle was heard, that last bit of air escaping their throat like a sigh. He took in a deep breath and held back tears. Frisk...why did she choose this? Why did she choose this over him? Curiosity? Temptation? Or had she really been as every bit as twisted as Chara? That was a painful thought but the world was blurring and it Reset once more.

"Two hundred and two now since Frisk gave up" He commented as Chara walked towards him once more, that familiar frustration playing out on their usually confident features. 

They hesitated, swinging their arms back and forth, looking too childish for the demon Sans knew them to be. "What? You wanna talk about it, bonehead? Wanna talk about how much you miss her? This was her idea you know. She called for me."

It was like their words had struck him in the soul. A grin spread onto their face. 

"What? You think I did this? You think I, alone, hijacked Frisk's body? Oh no, she had to choose this. And she did" Chara cackled. "She wanted to see what would happen if she decided to kill those she loved so dearly and by the time she actually started to regret it? It was too late. I was the one in control"They cackled again, swinging the knife down in an arch, clearly excited by the thought of Sans' suffering. "Oh you should have heard her whine 'This isn't what I want. This isn't what I thought it would be. Boo Hoo. Boo Hoo.' A big crybaby, just like Asriel was."

Sans felt his eye flash, unable to control his rage. He saw how happy it made them. They were thrilled with his anger. They wanted it. They wanted to see what would happen if they broke him, he was sure.

"Answer me one question, demon" He had to work to keep his voice in control. They nodded, pressing the tip of their knife into their finger, spinning it, drawing just a drop of blood. "Where is Frisk now?"

"With me of course. She's mine now." Sans felt his hands twitch now, an anger so deep and dark it threatened to consume him. "What? Its no use, killing me isn't going to bring her back. She's gone forever now."

"We'll see about that" He raised his hand and Blasters surrounded them. They fired off quickly, one by one and he knew he had caught Chara by surprise this time. 

When the world Reset, he remembered it too. He remembered everything. He changed up his attack, he killed Chara again and again and again and again. His anger was black and dark, heavy like a storm sitting on his heart. He thought of Frisk, he thought of Papyrus and he thought of everyone else this sick freak had killed. It made that storm heavier, his Determination greater. 

And after over a hundred more Resets, he knew it was taking a toll on his body. No matter who the winner was here, he was going to die. He didn't let the thought stop him though. He had to do this. For everyone. For Frisk...

"Argh! You stupid skeleton!" Chara screamed, coming back once more. "Why don't you die?!"

"Not now. Not ever. Not until you're dead you fucking freak!" He raised bones out of the ground, heading for Chara fast when suddenly their red eyes were no longer red, they were brown.

"Sans?!" That wasn't Chara's tone that was... The bones stopped just before her feet.

"Frisk?!" He couldn't believe it. His hand was still out, still extended to continue his attack but he couldn't...not if it were...

"I'm so sorry, Sans." Tears flooded down her cheeks. "I never meant for things to get this far" She could barely speak, choking on her own words. Her shoulder shook and she dropped the knife, hugging herself. "I'm going to Reset. Reset everything. You're going to forget. I'm going to do it right."

"There is no forgetting, Frisk. Not this time" He moved closer to her, dropping his arm, dropping to his knees in front of her. "I'm never going to forget this...This feeling, this anger, this helplessness..."

Her fingers touched his cheek and he looked up at her, tears flooding her eyes.

"Remember better times, Sans" She whispered to him and then suddenly her eyes were red again. He was slow...too slow.

The knife cut into his chest and he fell back, feeling blood drip from between his teeth. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move. Suddenly, she was Frisk again, leaning over him, screaming at him to not die. He looked into her tear-filled brown eyes and lifted a bloodied hand to touch her hand, the one on his wound.

"Reset." He reminded her. Then he pushed her hand away, staggering to his feet. Papyrus was waiting for him and if this Reset or not...Well he had tried. He looked at Frisk, still on her knees, shaking like a leaf, looking up at him. "Reset" He reminded her again and he saw her pick up her knife. He stumbled away, not wanting her to seem him fade. The world began to blur around him.

He knew he'd never forget.