Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Two skeletons stood opposite each other in the ruins of a castle, pieces of matter shot down from above, narrowly avoiding them both, and yet neither spared a glance at the rubble. That was not the true danger.

"Nightmare is dead." One of the skeletons spoke, desperation weaving itself around his bones. The magic dripping down from his skull could easily be mistaken as tears but the other skeleton knew better. Cross would never shed a tear over him. Not anymore.

"Are they?"

Cross scoffed. He gestured towards the fractured tiles of the floor, the area the Guardian of Negativity had stood less than a minute ago. "Of course they are. You don't need to do this."

Another stone hit the hard floor.

A bird cried. Its wings were a lost cause, long gone. It stared at the wave as it rushed closer and closer.

Killer's grip tightened on his knife.

"Don't be an idiot, Cross."

Prologue 

July 22nd 2018 

The grass in Underswap was wet, squelching unpleasantly beneath Killer's feet. He winced at each small pop, careful to shuffle further behind the dark bushes that hid him from the Royal Guard's line of sight.

“I hate these stupid missions,” Chara grumbled, “I should try to run again, I think I got pretty close last time.”

“Nightmare will find us no matter what,” he reminded them, instantly regretting it when a guard's head turned in his direction. He was sure to keep still, holding gloved hands around his soul to dull its glow.

“No thanks to you," they snarled, "If you hadn't said I'd work for them I'd still get to do whatever I want. This is your fault. I shouldn't have to be the one getting us out of it."

Killer resisted disagreeing. There was no point and more importantly he had a mission to focus on.

Another reconnaissance, it's been the only kind of missions Nightmare has been giving them for the past two months (since Chara's attempted escape.) They were useless, in Chara's opinion. Just a way to keep them busy when they're supposed to be resting in between fights.

"These fuckers better show up soon, I need to get a break from this before I pass out," Chara says, an acknowledgement of his thoughts.

The guard goes back to minding their own business, staring straight ahead. They were standing in front of Toriel’s castle, supposedly waiting for members of a secret meeting to arrive. 

Killer's boss, Nightmare, wasn't very logical when it came to getting what they wanted, despite what some may say. They lashed out when they don't get what they want, especially when it comes to Killer's most recent missions, whether its someone he'd tortured information out of giving fake news or Killer passing out mid fight. Chara likened them to a toddler.

So to avoid another of their tantrums Chara hoped this wasn't just another desperate attempt at survival from their latest torture victim. 

"This is an awful hiding spot," Chara complained, "We're gonna get caught."

A part of them dreaded to think of what would happen in that situation. They'd only heard of these monsters through Nightmare's anger-fueled rants in which they described how they were pests who would stop at nothing to ensure their plans failed.

"Maybe we should get caught on purpose, it could be a way out of this stupid deal.” they suggested.

Deal was a strong word for what was between Nightmare and them. It was more of a 'forced labour until you eventually dust, in which case you will be hunted down to your latest save point and will be punished until you feel nothing but pain for the next two weeks' kind of thing.

"Ugh whatever," Chara groaned, "I'm so bored. We should kill that guard."

Killer shook their head, "We can't," he muttered, barely audible, "We need them so we can hear what the code word to be let in is."

Chara rolled their eyes, "That's so stupid. We could literally just walk in."

"Not without causing a panic. Besides, people will notice if the guard isn't there."

"I liked it better when you couldn't think," they grumbled.

"We can go for it if you really want to," Killer said, "But Nightmare wants me to succeed in this."

Chara snarled, "You don't listen to them, you listen to me. I'm the one that saved you."

What Chara saved him from, he couldn't remember, but he found he couldn't care enough to dwell on it. Instead, he nodded.

"Look! Finally someone's here. I thought I was about to die of boredom," they said, "I'll float closer so we can hear."

Chara was right, there was a monster approaching the castle. A short goat creature. Killer inspected them, trying to place their name.

"Ah- Hello," they greeted the guard, "Um, I’m supposed to be here for um, a talk abo-"

"You'll have to give the code," they responded with a smile.

"Oh, right! Sorry, um.. Cataract."

Chara groaned,  "What? Just who the hell’s in charge here?”

The guard shuffled out of the little goats' way, pushing open the door so they could go in with a squeaky, “Thank you!”

Chara drifted back to his side, where they eventually faded into just a voice in his head, “So are you going to hang out in the mud all day or actually go in?”

With a blimp of blue light he shortcuts away, further from the door as to make his entry to the universe seem natural. 

When he moves to get closer to the entrance something with a texture similar to paint leaks out from the dirt before him. In an instant, a short skeleton bleeds out from it.

They looked around in confusion for a moment before grabbing their scarf and glaring at it intensely.

“Did.. did that guy just sprout out from the ground?” Chara asked, bewildered.

They glanced up from their scarf beamed when their eye lights met his, “Hey there! You're not supposed to be here, are you?”

Chara glared at them, mouth agape, “How..”

They laughed and rubbed the back of their skull and chuckled, “Look, I'm not gonna snitch or anything,” they glanced back at him, “Just wasn't expecting to see you around.”

Killer looked to Chara for directions, only to get silence as a response.

A sleazy smile sunk into his face, “Sorry, bud, I think you've mistaken me for someone else.”

“Heh, you're probably right! So, what are we here for again?”

“Uh, Well I'm going to that fancy castle over there. So~ It was nice meetin’ you, Dirt Dude,” he drawled, holding up one of his hands as a wave before turning to go.

There's a few quick steps behind him. He lets out a sigh as the skeleton speaks again, “Dirt Dude?” they laugh, “What's the thought behind that one?”

“Maybe it's the fact I just watched you materialise from the literal ground,” he pointed out, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

They looked down to the ground as they jogged to get back to his side, “Huh.”

“You aren't gonna explain?”

“Explain what?”

“Nah, nothin’. So, what brings you here?” he asks despite Chara's complaints about wasting time.

“Um,” they grasped their scarf again, “I think.. my friend told me to. I don't have the greatest memory, you see,” they explained with a small huff.

“No shit? Me neither,” he responds.

“You don't?” they blinked and as plain as day, their eye lights changed shape and colour. Was this a show of power? Or a threat? 

They stared down at the skeleton, who blinked again. From a purple question mark and a red circle to an orange cube and a green star this time.

Before he has time to question it they've reached the entrance. The shorter jumps at a chance for new conversation,“Hey there! You are.. Dogaressa! Nice to meetcha’!”

‘Dogaressa's’ snout twitches upwards before being forced back down into a frown, “Ink. I hope you've written down the password.”

‘Ink’ falters, “Uh..”

Chara nudged Killer with a pointed glare, “Cataract.”

Ink turned their bright smile to him, “Thanks, bud!” they skipped past Dogaressa without a second look, humming as they walked down the hall.

Dogaressa stepped out of Killer's way with a sigh, “I don't even know why he gets invited anymore.”

The castle seemed even bigger on the inside, far bigger than the one in his old universe. There were monsters and humans alike filling the large room, sitting down for conversation or moving from room to room.

“Fuck. Imagine how much EXP you could get from these guys,” Chara spoke, floating closer to a particularly large group.

Killer glanced around the room, now hyper aware of the knife tucked comfortably away in his sleeve. He almost didn't catch the tail of Ink’s scarf as they skipped out of a door on the far end of the room.

He snapped his fingers and his surroundings changed as he used a short cut. He found himself in a thin corridor, a few monsters dressed in fancy attire littered behind each small table that lined the walls.

The lights were bright, a stark difference to the dark and cloudy sky outside. 

He shuffled into the room Ink walked in and was relieved to see the small goat from earlier sitting at a round table alongside a few others. They all appeared slightly familiar, but Killer couldn't place any names.

“Hello,” a soft voice spoke from behind him. Chara jumped at the unexpected sound with a shriek.

Killer turned to see a Toriel with a ghost-like transparency to her, “Uh, hey,” he replied. His first instinct was to pounce, but instead of cheering him on like they usually would, Chara said nothing.

Toriel cocked a brow and smiled, “No pun? I'm normally greeted by at least seven in the first sentence by Sans’ like yourself.”

“Do not look at me for this,” Chara said instantly.

“Not big on them,” he smiled, “You wanna hit me with one?”

The Toriel nodded with excitement before taking a breath to compose herself, “Why did the snail paint an S on his car? So people would say, "Look at that S-car go!””

“I don't get it,” Chara complained.

“Not a fan, huh? Well I have more!,” she said with a grin, “I find snails to be quite humble creatures- they never boast, they just leave a trail.”

Killer nodded with a grin.

“I'm feeling sluggish today, but these snail puns are really picking up the pace!”

“Laugh so she'll stop,” Chara commanded.

Killer did so, making the goat's smile creep somehow even further up her face, “I knew that would get you.”

“How couldn't it?” he chuckled.

Conversation dragged on between them, not a single question shared between the two and only nonsensical topics were discussed. Chara called it a waste of time.

The ringing of a bell silenced everyone around the table, more people had joined when he had been distracted, it seems. He was grateful for being pulled away from the interaction. He hadn't put on a mask in a while and Chara insisted he wasn't doing well at all, but Toriel didn't mention anything unusual and that's all that matters. It would be shameful to have his cover blown before the meeting even started.

“Thank you all for coming,” said a monster who had stood up. They were a Sans, although their voice wasn't like any other’s he'd heard. That was.. odd, and the more he looked at them the more it seemed like they were glowing, “I know it was a lot of your first time going to a different universe, but don't be nervous, Underswap welcomes all with open arms.”

A smaller skeleton with blue eye lights nodded aggressively from beside them, their armour pieces hitting against each other loudly.

“It's nice to see so many new faces. My name's dream and me and my friends have invited you all here to discuss a serious issue across the multiverse.”

“Holy shit. This is Dream?” Chara muttered, “I didn't know they were Nightmare’s cousin.”

Killer found it hard to see any resemblance between the two, Dream didn't have tentacles, for one, but was this really the one Nightmare was after? 

“I guess it's not that hard to believe. Pipsqueak is literally radiating positivity. ‘Course they'd be on Nightmare’s bad side.’

Killer nodded in agreement and focused back on the skeleton's words.

“-lately they've been more extreme with their attacks. Hundreds of monsters and humans have been killed by them and most human bodies are in pieces when they're found.”

Killer preened at the acknowledgement of his work. He hadn't realised they would be looking at the bodies afterwards but it probably made sense. Sometimes he forgets human's don't dust. They also give less EXP, for some reason, so he tries to spend less time and effort on them.

“This is far beyond a small problem and it's only going to get worse. We need to find a way to keep people safe before any more lives are lost. Anyone have any ideas?”

A purple fish raises their hand, “We could plan escape routes.”

“Escape routes to where?” Another, redder monster scoffed, “Weren't you listening? Hiding a bunch of people in one spot is only gonna help him. Not a single soul has survived his attacks, genius.”

The purple fish flushes and sinks into the chair.

“We could find a way for people to flee to the omega timeline. It's hidden so no one can find it unless we want them to,” the armoured skeleton suggests.

“How does that work?” Chara asks, not expecting him to answer.

“That's a good idea, Swap,” Dream chirped, looking around for any objections.

“What about when the Omega Timeline gets too crowded?” an Asgore asks.

“The Omega timeline doesn't end,” a grey human chimes in, “Though the soil may eventually dwindle down to nothing, I can always bring more. Overpopulation is not of concern.”

“Um, right,” the asgore nods, “So we must find a way to get a large amount of creatures there very quickly.”

The grey human looked towards Ink, who almost seemed to be asleep, “Ink,” they spoke.

Ink jumped to attention, rubbing at his eyes, “I'm awake, I'm awake! Jeeze louise.. Oh, hey there! There's a lot of you.”

“Ink?” the red Alphys asked, “What would ink do? Take this seriously,” they snarled.

“Ink is their name,” Dream explained, gesturing towards the aforementioned skeleton.

The Alphys cocked a brow, “My question still stands.”

“Ink has paint that can transport people from universe to universe,” the grey human said, “Ink, do you think you could get every monster in a universe to the omega timeline in a short amount of time?”

“Uh,” Ink scratched his chin, “I mean, I could.”

“..but?”

“.. But why should I? It's not that serious.”

A wave of silence washed over the room.

“Are you fucking insane?” Red Alphys shouted, “‘Not that serious’ Millions of monsters and humans have been tortured and killed and you say it's ‘Not that serious’ You're fucking demented!”

Ink scoffed, “I'm not demented, I just mean, as long as they have a save point they can reset. Most of the time they don't stay dead and the stories will be reset and everything's fine. This Nightmare guy isn't anything to be worried about.”

“This really isn't something we should be debating,” Dream smiled weakly, “‘Most of the time’ isn't the same as all of the time, and people are getting hurt, as Guardian's, it's our job to protect them.”

“S'not my job,” Ink grumbled, crossing his arms, “And we shouldn't be taking a bunch of monsters to the omega timeline. That's for monsters that have survived genocide and can't be reset, not an entire universe that got a bit scared.”

“It's not about being scared its about a very real threat of mass murder. You wouldn't want that to happen to you and your home, so you are going to do this for everyone,” Red Alphys snapped.

Ink raised his hands in a mock manor of surrender, “Sure, sure. Don't bite my head off,” they laughed, leaning his head on his hand.

“Um.. how are we going t-to stop Nightmare? We should handle this instead of just trying to avoid it, right?” the small goat cuts in.

“Right!” the armoured skeleton Dream had labelled ‘Swap’ agreed, “I was actually thinking about this, so basically, Nightmare is the exact opposite of Dream-”

“Uh, I wouldn't say that,” Dream mutters.

“So since Dream's weakness is negativity, Nightmare's weakness must be positivity,” Swap exclaimed.

“That's..” Chara hummed.

“So then what's your idea?” Red Alphys asked.

“I say we hold a multiverse wide party! Everyone's so happy Nightmare can't show up and everything can go back to normal,” they explained with a triumphant grin.

“Um,” a multicoloured squid to Killer's left speaks up, “What if they aren't weakened by positivity?”

“Then we had lots of fun,” Swap replied.

“Swap,” Dream smiled sweetly, “I don't think that's a bad idea, I'm just a bit worried that this isn't the forever solution we're looking for.”

“Do we have to do something?” Ink drawled.

“Who invited you?” Red Alphys snapped.

“How about we take a little break?” Dream suggested with a curt nod towards Ink, who pushed his chair out with a pout.

“Good idea!” Swap cheered.

“But we just started,” Chara complained.

Killer watched as Dream pulled Ink into the next room, followed closely by Swap.

“What the fuck is wrong with that guy?” Red Alphys said to the Asgore beside her.

“That was intense, huh?” the Toriel said as she turned to face him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I've actually gotta go to the bathroom, I'll be right back.”

“Oh I wasn't aware skeletons did that,” Toriel nodded, “Be safe.”

Killer pushed out his chair and moved to the door the three skeletons had passed through, prepared to lie about his intrusion, only there was no one on the other side of the door.

He looked around. After a few moments he noticed muffled voices from a nearby room.

“Get closer,” Chara said, and his body moved before he had a chance to reply.

“-ould keep the discussion between ourselves? You know, like we agreed?”

“I don't remember that, s'not my fault.”

“Ink, we can't let these people think we don't care about them,” Swap's voice was the clearest, it was like he wanted someone to overhear them with how he was practically shouting.

“But I don't.”

“Then why did you show up?”

“Because you asked me to, silly,” Ink laughed.

“This is serious, can you both please act like it?” Dream pleaded.

“Both? I'm trying my best!” Swap huffed, “Maybe this is another Cross situation, we shouldn't try and kill the guy.”

Ink groaned, “This really isn't the problem you're both making it out to be, if it was, the creators would fix it, easy peasy.”

“These guys are acting like toddlers,” Chara huffed from beside him

Killer nodded, this argument was boring. His hand twitched at his side and the knife slid further down his sleeve.

“What are you doing?” said a new voice from behind him.

Killer let a grin creep up his face and turned around slowly, “Hey, bud, nice to meetcha’.”

The skeleton in front of him had a large knife in their grasp, glowing a red similar to Killer's soul. 

“How do they even use that thing?” Chara gaped.

They stared straight through him, waiting for an explanation.

“I uh, didn't see you in there, you must've blended in pretty well,” he spoke, letting his knife drop down to his hand.

Killer checked them. 

Cross- 1 ATK, 1 DEF

*Prepared for a fight

“Go easy on them,” Chara giggled. 

His vision flashed and he jumped forward, slashing at the skeletons head. The red knife transformed into twin daggers which were raised to protect their face and with a kick to his side Killer was flat against a wall.

The door he was standing beside banged open and Cross’ soul instantly turned blue.

Chara groaned, “We didn't even get a hit in.”

Swap rushes to Killer's side, “Oh my stars! Are you okay Small Sans?”

“I'm taller than you,” he said, rubbing at his skull in a false display of pain.

“Swap, let me go! This guy is dangerous,” Cross growled.

“Cross,” Dream walked towards them and gently held their shoulder, “You need to calm down, there's no one you need to fight here.”

“I'm not looking for a fight, they're an enemy!”

“Ink, why don't you go take Cross outside for a moment?” Dream suggested.

Ink flashed finger guns at them, taking Cross’ arm and pulling him towards the exit as soon as their soul flickered away, “You're the boss.”

“I'm so sorry about him,” Dream said as they kneeled beside him, “He's just going through a bit of a hard time right now. Family stuff. I'm sure he didn't mean anything he did.”

“It's fine,” he brushed them off, “I understand, my family was killed by Nightmare a couple of weeks ago.”

Swap frowned, “That's awful, is there anything we can do for you?”

Killer winced, “I don't want to bother you.”

“Don't worry, it's impossible to bother the Spectacular Swap!” 

Killer let a small grin spread across his face, “Is that so? Well uh.. I don't really got a place to stay right now..” 

Dream seemed to glow, “Oh we can definitely help with that! There's lots of places that take in refugees.”

“Really? Oh thank you so much,” he grinned, pulling Dream closer to hug them.

When he stepped away there was a look of confusion on Dream's face but it was quickly replaced by a reassuring smile, “Of course. Do you want me to take you there now or after the meeting?”

“Now, if it isn't too much trouble,” he laughed humorlessly.

“I wouldn't have offered it if it was,” Dream stood up and offered him their hand, “I'll be right back, Swap.”

“I hope you stay safe, Small Skeleton,” Swap nodded with a grin.

A blinding light surrounded them and Killer shut his eye sockets with a wince.

When the light goes away Killer opens his eyes to see a line of colourful buildings, “..Where are we?”

Dream lets go of his hand, “This is Fluffytale, it's a neutral universe. You can stay here for as long as you want. I have a friend, Ccino, that works in that cafe. If you say I sent you, he'll help you get back on your feet.”

“Nice going, genius,” Chara said, “Fucking Fluffytale.”

“Thank you, Dream,” he teared up, “I don't know how I could repay you.”

Dream stepped away, “That's alright. I hope you live a good life.”

Killer nodded and wiped away his tears before they could fall, “Thank you.”

Fuck. Now he had to go back to Nightmare with nothing except escape plans.

“I hope to see you around,” Dream bowed and disappeared with a flash of light.

“Well what do we do now?” Chara asked.

“Now we have to report back."

Cross pushed himself further into the stump of the tree he was hiding under, sinking into the cold relief the damp wood was providing.

“This is pathetic,” XChara spat from where he floated next to him, “Could you be any more useless?”

“Leave me alone,” he mumbled, wiping the purple tears out of his eyes before they could fall. He missed when he could hide. Now his problems never seemed to give him a chance to gasp for air.

“Why are you the one that's crying? You destroyed our home, not me," he ranted, pacing back and forth in the air.

In the distance Cross could see kids playing, monsters and humans talking to each other without any ill feelings towards each other, “Everyone thinks I'm crazy.”

“You are crazy,” Chara snapped, “You killed all our universe to protect XGaster.”

“Are you capable of talking about anything else?” he groaned, shuffling so his scarf covered more of his face.

His brother tried to kill him.

“Sure,” Chara scowled, “You almost dusted that weird skeleton yesterday.”

The topic catches Cross off guard. Weird was an understatement, the monster that stood before him hours ago looked in pain, their soul oozing with determination and shifting erratically; they're skull almost looked to be made of porcelain instead of bone.

It reminded Cross of the memories he wasn't supposed to have. Imperfect versions of him and other distantly familiar monsters would flash before him, but they never looked quite right.

Cross was beginning to wonder why he even bothered acknowledging Chara at all, if all he was going to do was complain, “They threw the first hit.”

Chara rolled his eyes, “They didn't even hit you. They could've just wanted to be closer to you.. for... some reason,” he trailed off.

“Please shut up,” he pleaded, throwing his head back and closing his eyes when his skull met the wood painfully.

“Idiot,” Chara hissed.

There were no animals in the omega timeline, similar to how his universe used to be but Cross liked to imagine there were birds chirping or frogs croaking, anything that was different from his universe, but he struggled to imagine the sounds he'd never heard. Two weeks later and he still couldn't look into the distant white void without tasting bile in the back of his throat at the reminder of what he'd done to his home. Sometimes he considers the possibility he's dreaming, that he'll eventually wake up and everything will be back to normal, but he knows that's irrational. Things will never go back to the way they were.

His life wasn't so bad, he had his brother back then, at least. Now he struggled to remember if his eye lights were white or purple. Though they had never really been that close. He regrets not trying harder to bond with him now.

His eye sockets popped open wide in panic at the sound of shoes scuffing against mud close by. The air escapes his lungs the second he sees a gray human in front of him. He rubs at the corner of his eyes and ignores the stinging of the scar engraved on his cheek.

“Hello, Cross,” Core Frisk greeted him, bowing to look him in the eye, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

He shook his head and pulled down his scarf, “You're fine."

They looked satisfied and kneeled down in front of him, narrrowly avoiding an elongated root that sprouted from the soil, "How are you feeling?"

"Um.. I'm fine, thanks," he pushed his fingers into the damp soil, "Do you need something?”

“Well,” Core smiled, tilting their head at a disturbing angle, “I would like to spar with you.”

He looked up at them, perplexed, “Um, no offense.. but why?”

They giggled, “I've heard you're a skilled fighter and as the most talented person in the world I've decided I must beat you in combat!”

Chara hummed in consideration, “I say we do it. Can't hurt, right?”

Cross sent a suspicious look his way, not trusting his sudden flip in behavior. The ghost gawked at the glare, “Can't a guy get bored? All you do is brood all day, I want some action!”

He huffed into his scarf, “Do you have an area in mind?”

Core Frisk beamed and offered their hand, which Cross reluctantly accepted. Instead of letting go when he stood up like he expected they would, they tightened their grip and began to lead him away from his designated tree.

Core giggled to themself, “I'm excited; I saw you fight the people of your universe y'know? I think you're super brave.”

He felt his face heat up alongside the urge to hide behind his scarf, “Ah- um, thank you?”

“No need to thank me, I'm just speaking my mind. Although, now that I think about it you weren't exactly in your right mind, were you? It'll be interesting to see you fight in a situation that isn't so intense.”

The familiar burn of magic in the corner of his eye sockets returned and the newfound pain in his skull pulsed to a beat similar to that of a human's heart, he winced at the sensation. A lump grew in the back of his throat and he struggled to get words past his teeth. He dipped his head further behind the rough fabric of his scarf in a pitiful display of cowardice and shame. “Um, you too?” he stuttered out, earning himself a disappointed groan from Chara.

“You sound like you've never interacted with people before in your life,” he huffed, lifting his head to gaze at the ever clear sky that floated above them, “I don't deserve this.”

“You don't deserve this?” Cross hissed back under his breath with a pointed glare.

“Oh, I'm sorry I wanted to stop the monster that put Frisk and I through years of pain and torture, only to be foiled by some guy that thought he was better than me, even though he knew literally fucking nothing about Overwrite. I'm talking about you, by the way.”

“I got that,” he sneered.

“Mind your step,” Core chimed, just as the small strands of grass beneath him flickered to nothing.

Cross felt a lump in the back of his throat and straightened his spine at the sight of the colour fading away around him. Usually, the creatures in the Omega Timeline never leave the grassy area filled with civilians and buildings, although Cross doesnt think there's any rules about not leaving.

He can't say he blames them, it's almost like it's breaking the illusion of safety that the bright colours and happy faces supply. It makes his bones shake, a display of his nervousness.

“You used to be in the Royal Guard's, right?”Core asked.

“How do you know that?” he countered, trying his best not to tighten the grip he has on Core's hand even though the rest of his body was tense.

“Well: one, you're still wearing the uniform and two, I know everything,” they responded with a flap of their hand in dismissal.

“Why'd you ask if you already knew the answer?” he questioned defensively.

“I'm making conversation, silly,” they teased. Cross bristled and hid his face further.

Core stopped a while away from the grass, “This should be good.”

Cross nodded and summoned his knife and Core pulled a flimsy one of their own out of their skull, “We fight until one of us is disarmed, restrained or yields.”

Cross nodded again in understanding, “When should we start?”

“Now,” Core said.

Cross pushes himself off the ground, easily closing the distance between the two. Core easily flickers away, now standing only a few inches from the weapon. Cross strikes again. And again. And again, Core manages to dodge each swing without throwing any hits of their own.

“They aren't taking us seriously,” Chara growled beside him and for once, Cross could relate to his anger.

He focuses on the pattern of where they appear, normally four or five inches away from where Cross swings down his hack knife, and aims a line of bones on the area they should show up.

Instead, Core appears behind Cross, avoiding both the knife and the bones. It goes on like that for a while, but Cross is determined to win. It's clear to him that Core was intending to get him to lose through yielding, but nothing would deter him from winning the first spar he's had in what feels like years. He has to prove he is still useful.

“What's bothering you?” they ask, “Your mind seems to be in another place.”

“Nothing,” he pushed out, halting his incessant swings to take a few shaky breaths while he reassessed his strategy. Core was trying to wear him down, which will inevitably happen if he keeps on attacking wildly. He wasn't getting any closer to hitting Core, although.. it was possible if he swung unpredictably, but with how this was going, his chances were quite slim. He wasn't going to risk it, he needs a more sound way of doing this.

Core jumped forward, grazing the side of his skull.

Core jumped forward, so fast Cross could barely see them, and hit his skull dead center. Cross snapped back to reality, 

The ground was unusually flat, it was as though it wasn't there at all. He stumbled back and brandished his knife, swinging it diligently in their direction.

“When I was torn from my world, I was devastated. I was enraged,” they recalled, “But with the support from the people I surrounded myself with, I've come to realise what happened was for the best. Sometimes, leaving something is better for it, even if it hurts at first.”

Like that Core lunges forwards again. Cross raises his knife to defend himself but the weapon is ripped from his grasp, “Talk to someone. I promise it will help you.”

They drop their knife and begin their trek back to the populated area.

Chara blubbers, “What the fuck was that?!”

Cross stands still for a moment, the only movement coming from his shoulders as his lungs devoured air they didn't need.

“That prick! Who the fuck do they think they are? Challenging us to a fight and not throwing a single hit? Do they think we're made of glass?” he shouts to the open air. 

Cross shut his eyes and took a deep breath. The world was white, almost making him feel like he was trapped in a cage that left him with no room to move.

He needs to leave.

“Heya, buddy! How's it hanging?” Ink's voice rang out, throwing his arm over Cross’ shoulder. Cross flinched and backed away.

“Woah! Someone's flighty,” they giggled, “You alright?”

Cross scowled in response, folding his arms defensively in front of his chest, “I'm fine.”

Ink hummed in consideration, eyeing him up and down. It made Cross bristle under inspection, “What do you want, Ink?”

They gasped, “What do I want? I don't need a reason to talk to you, we're friends,” they pouted childishly, followed closely by a high pitched, “Hmph!”

“Are we?” Cross mumbled into his scarf.

“What?” Ink’s face fell, “Of course we are! You said so yourself, just a week ago, you said:” Ink raised a hand to their chest and deepens their voice, an absolutely horrendous impression of Cross’ voice, “‘I think I miss Frisk the most’ and I said, ‘Not Papyrus?’ and you said, ‘No, I was supposed to be best friends and I was guarding him so we spent most of our time together,’ and since I'm super observant, I saw you were holding your hand to your scar so I asked-”

“I don't need a reminder,” Cross argued, “.. and that was before you brought me to the Omega Timeline."

Ink's grin fell as he seemed to realise the weight of Cross’ words. Their eye lights change, but Cross turns away before he can properly examine them.

“Oh,” Ink said, “I… didn't know you were upset about that. Um.. I'm sorry.”

“I just don't understand why,” he huffed, “I could've still saved my home. Now it's gone. Erased forever,” he shut his eyes, as if he could hide himself from his new ‘home’.

“It was already gone, C. No one was gonna pick it up. I'm sorry.”

“If you were sorry, you would fix it.”

Why does he want him back? Everything was under his control but now he's gone and everything is different. It's good but its bad and its confusing and Cross doesn't know what to do.

IInk didn't reply, just pulled a vile of paint out of one of his many pockets, grabbing Cross’ hand so he could place it in his palm, “Um. I know this won't make it better, but I don't want you to be mad at me. So if you ever need my help, just pour this out and I'll show up.”

Cross stared down at the neon green liquid that swirled around it's tiny container with a frown. He glanced up at Ink's hopeful face and forced out a single word, “..Thanks."

"I'm starting to think you're failing on purpose," Nightmare declared, their voice was barely above a whisper, but it shot through Killer's bones like a scream. They were sat on their thrown made entirely of the same acidic substance as they were. Chara resented the unnecessary display of power.

"We didn't fail," Chara retorted through Killer's mouth, "We got good information, that's what you told us to do."

Nightmare’s sole cyan eye snapped towards them, "Oh, I'm sorry, am I in the Omega Timeline right now? I hadn't noticed."

"You said this mission was for information," they said defensively.

"Your purpose is getting me into the Omega Timeline. You failed," Nightmare snarled, rising from their thrown and drifting towards them in mere seconds, "Perhaps a punishment is in order."

"Ha! You don't scare me," they spat in their face, "Get over yourself, you sound like a beginner dominatrix."

Killer is slammed into the far wall with a grunt, cracking the weak plaster. He groaned and rolled onto his back. Chara hissed at the exploding pain that stretched across their spine and slipped further away from the front of their mind leading to a wave of dizziness washing over him.

A tendril wraps around his wrist pulling him into the air with a pop from his shoulder, "Tomorrow you will be joining me on a little trip to Glowtale. You won't disappoint me."

"Tomorrow?"

Nightmare scowled and tightened their grip on Killer's wrist, preening in the soft sizzles that came from the limb, "You're lucky I'm giving you time at all."

Killer pulled his eye sockets up to look at Nightmare, at the liquid that dripped down their body like a river. Their eye stared back, sharp like a dagger pressed against Killer's bones. He is not scared of Nightmare, but the sight of the monster in front of him hurts worse than any pain he'd felt before.

His persistent grin shook, “Yes, boss.”

Nightmare rolled their eye and let his appendage slip away from Killer's arm, letting him crumble to the ground, “Watch your mouth next time.”

With that, Nightmare sank into the ground until not even a puddle of black acid was left. Killer slumped against the wall, shutting his eyes and immediately losing consciousness

k  l e n p s r m a t i c b d q z j w x v g h f o u y

Chapter Text

Act One

"Diminutio spei"

July 25th 2018

The air in Underswap was nice. Noticeable, unlike the Omega Timeline where everything was sunny and the sky burned against the top of your skull no matter the time of day. Here, the sun was hidden behind a plethora of clouds, always moving, although Swap had explained that the planet was the one that was moving, not the clouds, Cross wasn't sure if he believed him. If the planet was moving, he'd definitely notice.

“So.. what's this?” Cross asks, staring down at the squishy food Swap had shoved in his hand upon his arrival.

“That's a hotdog,” Swap supplied, “Not one of the Spectacular Swap's favorites, but Paps insisted,” he grumbled.

Chara gagged at the pink sausage which was smothered in mustard, “There is no way you're putting that near your mouth.”

Cross hesitantly took a bite of the lukewarm meat, immediately shoving the rest of it in his mouth when the emptiness of his stomach became apparent.

“So, what do you think?” Swap asked enthusiastically, practically vibrating where he stood.

“I think I'm gonna throw up,” the ghost gagged, holding his stomach.

“‘s interesting..” he mumbled, not wanting to admit he wasn't paying attention to the flavor.

“I KNOW RIGHT? I don't actually remember the first time I had one but I know my brother made it. Whatever these humans have made is certainly not as good,” Swap responded, leading Cross down the crowded roads of Swaptale's surface.

The area was loud, louder than his universe, at least. Back home everything was organized and there was rarely commotion outside of people assaulting Frisk. He threw a glance in Chara's direction at the thought.

“I thought you said you didn't like them?” Cross asked.

“I never said that,” Swap replied in his usually chipper manner, “Anyways, I heard that you talked to Ink the other day.”

Cross’ mood instantly fell, a scowl spread across his face, “He told you that?”

“No,” he ‘hmphed’, “It was Core.”

“I don't want to discuss this,” Cross sighed, hiding his face behind the mustard covered tissue.

“Weeeeeell,” Swap drawled, leaning so his face was in front of Cross, “I also heard that there's a new picture programme playing in the human's theatre.”

“What's that?” Cross asked, shoving the tissues into a large black cylinder with a hole in it as he passed it by.

Swap let out a gasp that made others stop and stare, “YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A THEATRE IS?”

“No,” he shook his head.

“I can't believe this,” Swap muttered under his breath, “This needs to be fixed. Follow me, friend.”

That was all the warning he got before Swap pushed through the crowd of creatures at an unnatural speed. Cross hurried to follow behind him, his cheeks purple when he noticed the amount of onlookers. He scowled at anyone that met his gaze.

“Swap? Maybe you could slow down?” Cross requested when he finally got back into his range of hearing.

“Slow down? Preposterous! This picture starts at four and I shant stand to be late.”

Cross looked up at the sky, the sun burning uncomfortably against his eyelights, “That's hours away.”

Swap sputtered, “You've clearly underestimated the size of the line for popcorn.”

“What's-” 

Swap suddenly stopped his strides, “Please tell me you know what popcorn is “

“Uh- yeah. Of course I know what popped corn is,” he scoffed eloquently.

Swap let out a sound far too similar to a sob and spun back around to keep skipping down the path.

The walk to the ‘theatre’ wasn't even that long to Cross’ detestment and neither was the line. So there they stood, waiting outside a room in this ‘theatre’ for a picture to end so theirs would start after the workers cleaned it.

“Well,” Swap said, swallowing a hand full of popcorn. Little did he know it would be the only popcorn he would get before Cross stole the entire bucket, “At least we won't miss it.”

Cross’ eyes drifted towards the clock in the far end of the long hall, “We're two hours early.”

“Uh- maybe but! Um.. I'll get us more popcorn before the picture starts.”

Monsters pass by them, most keeping to themselves and walking by as fast as they could, but a few brave contrarians offered a quick wave to Swap which the short skeleton energetically returned.

The picture end up being shorter than the amount of time they spent waiting. It was a festive tale following a man that reminded Cross of his father. The story was told by what seemed like stuffed talking animals which constantly broke into song. It was an.. interesting experience nonetheless and Cross left the room feeling disorientated and confused, but at least Swap seemed satisfied.

"That was one of my favourites," Swap declared as they left, "My brother always used to turn on the one called 'Most Wanted' when I was a baby bones and I loved it. I think it's what gave me my musical talent."

"You have musical talent?'

Swap turned to Cross with a determined look on his face, "You don't know what karaoke is."

Cross scoffed, "Uh, I know what karaoke is," he responds, and its not even a lie. Back when he and his brother were training to be in the Royal Guards they were always invited to 'Karaoke Nights' by the other trainee's. Of course, the invitations stopped eventually.

"So you know what karaoke is but you don't know what thrifting is?" the blue skeleton asked skeptically.

"That's not my fault," Cross huffed, "I've never bought clothes before."

"Your life makes me want to cry, "Swap informed him, "You remind me of me when I was younger; All work and no play. That is, before the human and my brother, the lazy bag of bones he is, taught me of the importance of trying new things, stopping to smell the roses and the sorts."

"Is this supposed to be an intervention?" Chara grumbled, looking dead on his feet at the possibility of another Core Situation.

"I didn't have time for that," Cross explained, "I have to protect Frisk."

"You don't now," Swap said, reaching forward to take Cross' hand in between his fingers, "We'll just have to make up for lost time."

Cross didn't think Swap's hands would be so soothing, the magic seemed to ooze from his fingertips into Cross' knuckles. The warmth shot through his arms to his head, making him feel a similar disorientating feeling to the one he felt when they had left the theater, only this time it was more relaxing. Suddenly it was just Swap and Cross on the path. No Chara, no one passing by. Just them.

Swap's eyelights were so bright it was like Cross could see the back of his eye sockets, illuminated by the strong blue balls of magic that floated gracefully in the centre of the holes.

"Yeah," he whispered unsteadily.

Swap smiled and leaned closer. Cross felt his face heat up and resisted the impulsive instinct to back away.

"Are you hungry?"

"Y- wh.. huh?" Cross sputtered.

"Oh good," Swap sighed, "I think I'm about to keel over and you look no better."

"We ate less than four hours ago," Cross pointed out.

"Exactly, I'm starving," he complained, turning to start walking down the path again.

Cross glanced down at their intertwined hands and for some reason, started to hear his soul pumping magic through his bones.

"I wish I had died with my universe," Chara  lamented out of no where.

"I wish you had too," Cross mumbled.

Swap cheerfully led them to a crowded building with strong lights and ordered Cross to find them somewhere to sit while he got them food.

He came back with heavily seasoned chicken and vegetables which they both began devouring like it would be their last meal.

"What has many keys but can’t open a single lock?" Swap asked out of the blue.

"Um.. I don't know, why?" Cross inquired.

"It's a riddle. Its a question thats supposed to make you think," Swap said, frowning while doing so.

"What's the point?"

"It's something to do."

Cross huffed, "Fine.. a map?"

Swap's face fell impossibly further, "What? No."

"I don't understand how I'm supposed to get this-"

"OH YES!" Swap suddenly exclaimed between bites, "I was going to take you to a karaoke bar. I can't believe I forgot."

"Maybe you should start writing things on your scarf," Cross laughed, pushing around his napkin and staring longingly at his crumbs. He was happy to let the subject change.

Swap pouted, "I'm not that bad."

Cross hummed an uncertain tune which earned him a whack to his shoulder, "We can always go another day."

Swap sighed, "That's true but-.. can you hear that?"

Mere seconds after Swap pointed out the noise, a small yellow bird shot through a window and dashed towards their table.

"Ack-!" Swap squealed, "Oh.. it's just Dream."

"What?" Cross asked, trying his best not to look panicked in front of Swap.

Before Swap could explain the small bird opened its beak, letting a yellow glowing orb float out. It shined brighter and brighter until a voice finally leaked out from it, "Swap, I need your help. I've been attacked in Glowtale timeline four three two and I don't have enough energy to do anything without shattering my vessel. Uh but take your time if you need to! I'm not dusting or anything heha.."

With that the ball of magic burst, leaving small specks of its matter across the table.

Swap immediately pushed out his chair, grabbing Cross' hand to shortcut them back to his and Papyrus' house.

"What do you need me to do?" Cross asked.

"There's a device that helps monster like you and me traverse universes, it's small, grey and circular" Swap explained while shuffling through cabinets for monster food, "Should be in my room, go get it please."

Cross nodded and rushed towards Swap's room, helpfully marked by a statue of himself. The room was organised and it wasn't hard to find the device between the sci-fi figurines Swap had on display. He used a short cut to get back to the kitchen and held the object inbetween his fingers, "This one?"

Swap lifted his gaze from the cabinets and smiled, "Indeed it is," He rushed out from behind the wooden boxes and took the device, opening a barely noticeable hatch and finicking with its buttons.

The device beeped twice and Swap handed the device back to him, "Press the green button, I'm right behind you."

Cross glanced down at the device and grazed his thumb over it until he found a button, pressing it as soon as he does. Like that, the area around him shifted to one that was unfamiliar.

The snow immediately dampened his boots. He frowned at the squelch they produced when he lifted his foot. It was thick and cold, making him thankful for his stupid uniform for once in his life.

"Can you see them?" Swap asked from beside him, his voice almost inaudible beneath the smothering sounds of the weather. 

"No," he replied, placing his hood over the top of his eyes to unobscure his vision. It hardly made a difference, the snow still thick and it was difficult to see anything at all.

"DREAM? ARE YOU THERE?" Swap shouted.

Cross couldn't hear a response, "Is there anything we can do to clear the snow?"

"You could try to blast it out of the way," Swap suggested.

"I'm not sure. We might hit Dream," Cross responded, attempting to kick the snow in front of him out of the way but only getting his foot stuck between bricks of the stuff.

In a matter of seconds a familiar yellow ball of magic hovered in front of them. It bobbed up and down for a few moments before darting off, the two skeletons scrambling to catch up with it.

It was a long journey, they seemed to move an inch per minute and by the time they finally reached a thinner area of the apparent snowfield their bones were audibly shaking and drenched in melted snow.

"Over here," called out Dream's voice, so loud it almost felt like it was coming from inside his own head.

“Dream!” Swap exclaimed, rushing forward despite the harsh pull of the weather, dropping to his knees beside them,“Tell me what happened.”

Dream was smothered in snow, not quite unlike themselves, only the snow that covered the guardian seemed to be slowly melting, “The bones in my leg feel weird, I haven't been able to see through the snow but I think they're fractured. I'm low on HP and magic and I have a few shallow stab wounds.”

"Oh wow" Swap said, "Who did this?"

"Emm.. it was Nightmare and... a different skeleton. I think they were being mind controlled, " Dream frowned.

Cross’ eyes drifted down to the pile that built up around Dream's legs. It didn't seem to be melting like the rest of the snow making it look much heavier. The magic must have stopped flowing to their legs.

Only… now that he was closer it was easier to see the sharp endings of where the snow stopped and the bone began, along with the drip of bone marrow and magic falling into the ground.

Cross pulled his eyes away from the sight only to wince when he met Dream's hazy eyes.

“Oh.. hello, Cross,” Dream glanced towards Swap, it was clear they were disappointed in his choice to bring Cross along, “I'm sorry you have to see me like this.”

Cross writhed under the pity in their eyes. His bones burned with spite,“I'm sorry your legs were cut off.” 

For a moment their eyes met, and in that moment it seemed as if Dream hadn't heard him at all. But then the moment ended. A wave of fear overcame Dream and they barked out a nervous laugh, “W-what?”

Swap made a sound similar to a gag and slapped the back of Cross’ head, the effect lost due to the numbness from the cold, “Why would you tell them that!?”

Drean shut their eye sockets and looked to be trying to keep their breathing under control.

Swap made an uncomfortable noise,“I brought some monster food to get your HP up so you can teleport to a healer. Eat it.”

Cross felt his face burn with shame and dropped to his knees beside Swap, “I know healing magic, I'll try help the bone grow back.”

Upon his first touch Dream flinched away and looked uneasy about the continuous contact. When the green magic appeared Dream's head fell back into the snow as they fell unconscious.

Swap winced and muttered profanities, trying to persuade the still body to obsorb the monster food, “What do you think happened?”

“Prolly just Nightmare,” he muttered, trying to focus on regrowing the bone.

“You think? These stab wounds don't look like they were from their tentacles. This other skeleton must've been super strong,” he responds and shifts the fabric of Dream's shirt to show the gaping holes in their bones 

“There's a lot of them,” Cross observed.

“They must've caught them off guard."

Cross hummed and looked down at the bone, pleased to see it wasn't leaking anymore, although it didn't seem to be growing back yet. It makes sense. Back when he was little he would have to take care of Papyrus' bones all the time as he wasn't very careful despite Cross' many warnings. Long story short, he was well traversed in the lengthy process of growing back limbs, "Maybe.."

"Maybe what?" Swap prompted.

"Maybe I could fight Nightmare with Dream," he muttered, "Or at least protect them somehow."

Swap laughed, "Protect? Dream? Don't be silly Monotone Me, our friend Dream doesn't need protection."

"But what if something like this happens again?" Cross whines like he means any word of it.

Swap doesn't respond, still nudging the monster food against Dream's mouth, "....I think.. maybe.." Swap plastered on a grin and turned to him, "We could form a team."

"Huh? A team? You think so?"

"Absolutely! I'll ask Dream about it after they... y'know. Grow back their legs," he said, gesturing down to where Dream's limbs should be.

"Um. Great."

Swap nodded, dropping the food down, “I think we need another one of those multiversal travel things."

"I'll go get it."

The sand bristled under Killer's feet. momentarily lifted into the air by a bentle breeze. There was no sounds outside of the tide, the water rushing out to greet the sand, latching onto the delicate particales and bringing it along when the moon pulls it back. It was a peacefulness he had never experienced before. It felt unnatural. It made his head tingle and buzz like a volcano about to erupt. It felt... safe.

Chapter Text

?????

Cross perked up at the sound of fabric shuffling and jumped excitedly to his feet, “Ink!”

Ink beams back, opening his arms wide in preparation for the skeleton that ran to embrace him. Cross smiled at the fabric, at the smell of paint, at the sound of Ink’s breathing, “How long will you be staying?”

Ink’s grin faltered and they pushed Cross away to check their scarf, “I have… a couple of hours.”

Cross frowned, petting the cotton of the long scarf, “Hours?”

Fingers wrapped around Cross’ hands and he pulled his eyes away from the scarf to look into Ink's colourful eyes. He instantly let the tension drop from his shoulders; he could stare at Ink's eye light for years and never get bored. 

“Hey don't think about it,” Ink said, “The future is what happens when you’re busy making plans.”

“What?” 

“Uh,” Ink flushed and pulled his hands away from Cross’ to rub the back of his own head nervously, “Nevermind that. Wanna draw something? I brought oil pastels this time and I much prefer them to charcoal,” Ink stuck his rainbow coloured tongue out, “So bland…”

Ink dropped to the ‘floor’ and pulled stray ‘oil pastels’ out of their satchel, dumping them next to him, “I got water colouring paper too, I like the texture better than normal paper.”

Cross kneeled next to them, ignoring Chara's groans and sighs of disappointment, “How do you use them?”

Ink shoved paper in his face, letting it go before Cross could pick it up, “With your hands silly.”

Cross scowled. He hated being unfamiliar with things and not knowing what to do. He missed orders and rules, “I think I miss my dad," he said before he could even think it.

Ink hummed, “XGaster?”

He nodded, staring at the blank piece of paper. It almost blended in with the white area around it. He made sure to smear the wax from the crayon onto the edges first so he knew he wouldn't lose it, “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” 

“I suppose I've only ever heard him be called Gaster or some other title before. It's weird to think all the people I know aren't actually the original versions of ourselves.”

“It's complicated stuff,” Ink nodded to himself, “You don't act anything like Sans at all, yet you're still Sans. It's your name but you aren't Sans, y'know?"

Cross grimaced, “That's not my name.”

Ink didn't respond, focused instead on scribbling on his own paper.

Conversation with Ink was breathtaking. Something like he had never even thought of dreaming of. Before this, Cross doubted anything good would happen to him again. Yet here he was, sitting next to a monster covered in colours Cross wasn't even aware existed, talking energetically with him and helping him experience things he'd never before experienced.

His own page was a mess of colour before he had even recognised picking up a crayon. It hurt his eye light to look at. He wanted to stare at it forever. He wished he could burn the image into his mind.

Ink gasped, “I have to go!”

Cross dropped his page, turning to latch on to Ink's arm, “What? Where?”

“Omega timeline. We agreed on meeting up about yo-... a problem with some universe and I totally forgot until now,” Ink groaned, “Don't worry, I'll be back.”

Cross’ grip tightened on Ink's arm.

He was leaving he was leaving̷h̷̷e̷ ̷w̷a̷̷s̷ ̷l̷̷e̷a̷̷v̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷. ̷B̷̷l̷a̷̷n̷̷k̷ ̷w̷a̷̷l̷̷l̷̷s̷ a̷̷n̷̷d̷ a̷ ̷b̷̷u̷̷z̷̷z̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷ ̷n̷̷o̷̷i̷̷s̷̷e̷. ̷H̷̷e̷ ̷h̷a̷̷d̷ ̷c̷̷r̷̷i̷̷e̷̷d̷ ̷s̷̷o̷ ̷m̷̷u̷̷c̷̷h̷ ̷h̷̷i̷̷s̷ ̷m̷a̷̷g̷̷i̷̷c̷ ̷w̷a̷̷s̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷ ̷o̷̷n̷̷l̷̷y̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷ ̷h̷̷e̷ ̷c̷̷o̷̷u̷̷l̷̷d̷ ̷s̷̷m̷̷e̷̷l̷̷l̷. ̷I̷̷t̷ ̷w̷a̷̷s̷ ̷l̷̷i̷̷k̷̷e̷ ̷h̷̷e̷ ̷w̷a̷̷s̷ ̷d̷̷r̷̷o̷̷w̷̷n̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷ ̷i̷̷n̷ ̷i̷̷t̷. ̷A̷ ̷k̷̷n̷̷i̷̷f̷̷e̷ ̷t̷̷o̷ ̷h̷̷i̷̷s̷ ̷e̷̷y̷̷e̷ ̷s̷̷o̷̷c̷̷k̷̷e̷̷t̷̷s̷, ̷i̷̷n̷̷c̷̷i̷̷s̷̷i̷̷o̷̷n̷̷s̷ ̷o̷̷n̷ ̷h̷̷i̷̷s̷ ̷r̷̷i̷̷b̷̷s̷. ̷H̷̷e̷ ̷w̷̷o̷̷u̷̷l̷̷d̷ ̷m̷a̷̷k̷̷e̷ ̷s̷̷u̷̷r̷̷e̷ ̷h̷̷e̷ ̷w̷̷o̷̷u̷̷l̷̷d̷̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷s̷̷u̷̷r̷̷v̷̷i̷̷v̷̷e̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷i̷̷s̷.

“You can't leave,” Cross’ voice sounded weak even to his own ears. What would his father say if he could see him now?

His wrists burned and he dropped Ink's arm in an instant, “You can't leave me.”

“You won't even notice I'm gone,” Ink pulled him into a quick hug that made him want jump out of his bones and run far away, “But if you keep up with the begging I'll feel too bad about depriving you of your precious Me time.”

Cross stared at the ‘ground,’ fighting back tears he didn't want Ink to see again. Ink couldn't leave, “Please.”

“Psh, I'll be right back. Promise.”

It wasn't until five days later when he was met with a distantly familiar grey human he realised Ink had lied.

July 28th 2018

"A team?" Dream frowned, "But why?"

Swap's house was cluttered and cozy. Certainly not clean but there was something charming about the objects and knick knacks sprawled all over the place. Dream was squashed between mountains of blankets. If they  had feet they would definitely be kicked up on Swap's demand.

"To protect the multiverse against Nightmare," Swap pushed, "They're not going down without a fight and if they're going to drag other people in to it then why shouldn't you?"

Dream made an unpleased expression, "I don't think I'd be very happy 'dragging' anyone into my problems."

Swap gaped, "This isnt just your problem. People are dying and we need to put an end to this- this genocide."

"I appreciate the offer, really, I do.. it's just," Dream turned to look over at Cross, "I just don't think I need any help."

Swap's face burst into a vibrant shade of blue that made it difficult for Cross to look away and spluttered out a defense, "I- we- obviously we don't think you need the help. We just- well. We're both trained in fighting and we could offer help if you were ever.. uh.. otherwise occupied.

Dream huffed, "I'll think about it. In the mean time, did you get any messages back from Science yet?"

"Not yet," Cross mumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm sure it won't be too long now. Even I know that they'll grow back for sure. I mean, you've just got some ankle action left to go," Swap reassured them, throwing himself ontop of a mountain of blankets. The blankets fell under his weight and deposited the blue skeleton on the ground at an odd angle. Cross had to fend off a smile at the silliness of it.

"Ankle action?" Dream murmured.

"Exactly," Swap nodded, "I'd say you'll be better by Thursday."

Dream's face seemed to lose its glow, "Next Thursday? But I've healed so much already in two days, why so long?"

"You need to let the bone get strong again," Cross said, "If you put too much pressure on it before it's healthy again, it'll snap."

"But will it really take five days?"

"For humans it take ages to heal bones without magic. Sometimes they can't," Swap stated, "You're super lucky."

"I think if I was lucky I wouldn't have had my legs cut off," Dream pouted, "I just wish I could save the poor monster that did this. Oh they seemed so.. lost."

Chara turned away from the yellow skeleton and huffed, "They're quite the bleeding heart, aren't they?"

"It's disgusting," Cross felt sick looking at them. They were entitled and prudish and looked down on people that they deemed less than them.

Swap nodded profusely, "Very disgusting. Imagine manipulating someone like that. How can Nightmare live with themself?"

"They do feed of negativity," Dream reminded him.

"I know that.." Swap trailed off, staring up at the glow in the dark plastic stars stuck to his ceiling, "Do you think..  there's a way out of this without killing them?"

"Of course," Dream responded, "Killing Nightmare..  it is possible. At least, for me. I know we can be killed by other guardians. You dont have to worry about it."

"You must've put a lot of thought into this," Swap sat up from on top of the hill of blankets.

Dream laughed, "Well... I've been alive for 500 years and stuck in stone for most of it. I've had a while to think about things."

"You were stuck in stone?" Cross asked.

Dream's face flushed, "Ah- that's a story for another day."

"Right," Chara scowled, "Of course."

"Um- but anyways, I think we should ask Ink about this team," Dream suggested, seeming eager to change the topic.

"Ink?" Swap made a face, "Why?"

"Because Ink is our friend and a valuable fighter."

"Ink isn't my friend," Cross protested.

Dream's eye lights flickered between the two skeletons and they sighed, "Ink isn't so bad, he just is a bit.. air headed at times. He doesn't mean any harm."

Chara practically growled, standing up from where he had chosen to drape himself over a pile of CD's and paced around the room, "Yeah right. I knew that guy was shady ever since he showed up at our universe and Dream is no better."

Cross nodded. If he had a choice in the matter he would never see either of them again. If he had a choice he'd be at home with his siblings.

From where Killer was standing it seemed like there was no end to the water. A world made of water with only a desert keeping him standing. He stepped into the water, letting it pool around his feet. It was beautiful. He couldnt think of a single reason why no one else was fleeing to the shore and enjoy the experience it had to offer. He couldn't imagine a world where he was without the shore.

  July 29th 2018

Sneaking around Underswap was easy, so easy it shouldnt even be considered 'sneaking.' No one gives you a second glance no matter what you look like, he could go anywhere he pleased (with no repercussions unless he was caught, too!) It was definitely becoming one of Killer's favourites.

"You look far to pleased for someone that can't feel," Chara complained, "You aren't even gonna be doing the killing."

"Maybe not, but it's nice going on these little walks, seeing new places," he chuckled.

He strolled into a large field nearby the town, its grass was overgrown, almost taller than him,  in fact. The occasional pane of grass stuck to the determination running down his face, making the journey through the land far longer then it should've been.

"What are you even looking for? We've passed by plenty of people," Chara asked.

Killer ignored them, simply because he didn't have a reason for travelling this far. But something was calling to him; he couldn't turn back now.

He shuffled through the entrance to a forest, the trees towering over his tiny body. As he crept further into the woods his soul seemed to turn to a paler red. Like it was losing its colour.

"What are you doing?" Chara hissed. 

Killer stumbled as his vision fell flat for a moment, but pushed his body to keep moving.

"Listen to me!" the ground would shake from the force of their voice if it was audible to anyone but him. As it is, all the volume did was split Killer's head open.

The grass dwindled down to soil, to rock. It made each step harder to force. A string wrapped around his soul and he would follow its pull.

"-want to do it so badly then I won't stop you, but I won't help you with what happens next," came a voice from inside the woods.

Killer lifted his head from where he hadn't even realised it had fallen and rushed towards the noise.

He got to a clearing, a gap in the millions of long coniferous trees and couldn't fend off a grin at the sight that awaited him. It was the skeleton from the meeting. Cross, if he remembered correctly, laying against a tree with his eye sockets closed.

"Round two then?" Chara giggled.

The skeleton sat up, their eyes darting around frantically, "Who's there?"

"Did you hear me?" they asked, tilting their head and floating closer, but Cross never met their gaze.

The skeleton bared his very sharp teeth, "Show yourself!"

Killer didn't hesitate in stepping out from the shadows with his arms raised, "Jeez, don't bite my head off."

Cross' eyes narrowed and he summoned his knife (this time silver), "I knew you were trouble."

"Trouble? You flatter me, but I haven't even done anything yet," he grinned, walking towards Cross who visibly tightened his grip on his weapon.

"Not one for conversation?" Killer pulled a knife from his sleeve, "That's fine, I'm sure you'll scream loud enough to make up for it."

Chapter Text

July 29th 2018

Cross stared down at the boiling sauce, watching as it bubbled up every few minutes. He placed the glass lid back over the pot, steam fogging it up almost immediately.

The sound of the stove was interrupted by the loud clatter of swap making his way towards the kitchen, and sure enough, mere moments later the aforementioned skeleton was bursted through the door.

"You're very generous, Monotone Me," Swap proclaimed, for what felt like the twelfth time this hour, " I can take over for a while. It is my kitchen after all."

The heat from the stove must have been getting to him because his face was beginning to feel impossibly flushed, "Sorry."

Swap scoffed and put his hands on an empty counter behind him, hoisting himself up to sit down, legs crossed, “Don't be sorry. The Spectacular Swap will always be grateful for a free meal.”

“This is for Dream,” Cross reminded him.

Swap laughed in response, flapping his hand dismissively, “Potato tomato.”

Cross sighed, not seeing any point in trying to argue with him, “Just stir the meat every few minutes. I'll be back before it's done.”

Swap nodded enthusiastically, “Of course! Minced beef is my speciality.”

“I'll be back soon,” Cross stepped out of the kitchen and immediately bumped into Swap's brother, “Ah- hi,” he nodded before all but running out the front door.

He had only ever spoken to Swap's brother once before, right after he had been taken to the omega timeline and was introduced to his ‘saviours’ as he imagined they enjoyed calling themselves. Swap was the most bearable of them all.

The soil was tough underneath his feet, providing the comforting sound of his shoes padding against the path. He turned his focus to the stable noise instead of the pounding in his head, as a result listening to the birds flying around in the foliage above and allowed himself a small smile, which quickly fell when he realised how ridiculous he must look smiling to himself.

“I wish he had his head cut off. At least then we wouldn't have to look at his face,” Chara spat, floating expertly above the ground.

“I wish we could go back home.”

Chara hummed in consideration but said nothing. Cross eyed him, his gaze coated in suspicion, “What are you planning?”

“Why do you always think I'm planning something?” he pouted.

“Maybe because you always look like you're planning something.”

“Fuck off, Sans.”

“It's Cross.”

“Maybe in your dreams,” Chara stuck his tongue out, an action that would surely look ridiculous if he wasn't stuck in the body of a child.

“You're so immature,” Cross groaned, dragging his feet in a manner he would never dare to back home.

“You're so immature,” Chara mumbled, floating ahead to create as much space between them as possible.

The land around him turned darker, as the trees grew bushier, his mind became quiet, making it difficult to open his eyes. Whenever he blinked it was almost like he was being pushed out of his own body.

A sudden breeze shook him and his eye socket snapped open. He looked up at the tall trees, noticing he was now in a small land of flowers and moss instead of the wood and humus he had been passing by only seconds ago, “What…”

“Oh, you're finally awake.”

Cross jumped and summoned his knife, only to swing it through the ghost of Chara, who stared at him with an unimpressed expression, “You zoned out for a while. Walked around for like an hour and sat down here. You fell asleep after a few seconds.”

“I did?” Cross maffled under his breath. The last thing he remembered was… talking to Swap about something. He shook his head and glanced around, “Do you know the way back?”

“Yeah,” Chara reassured him. All of a sudden the tree behind his back was warming his body, a comfortable pressure against his back, “We should stay a few minutes. I want as much time away from Dream as possible.”

Cross nodded in agreement, letting his knife fade away,“I never thought we'd agree on something.”

“Quiero matar a ese cabrón,” Chara stared intently at him and he felt a pit grow in his stomach.

“We won't,” he hissed, holding his arms and closing his eye sockets.

“I don't remember inviting you,” the ghost said brusquely.

Cross huffed, opening his eye sockets for a moment just to glare at him, “We share the same body, pendejo. If you kill someone I kill someone.”

“What else is new? And I'm sure we won't be stuck together much longer,” Chara ominously replied.

“Right.. well whatever. If you want to do it so badly then I won't stop you, but I won't help you with what happens next.”

Chara's head turned away from him with a frown, “Someone's watching us,” he warned him.

Cross immediately sprouted up from where he had been laying against a tree for who knows how long and scoured the woods around him for any sign of life, “Who's there?”

“Nice job, idiot. I'm sure that'll work.”

He growled, adjusting his stance in a way that he knows makes him look more intimidating,“Show yourself!”

Leaves shuffled in the distance followed by a low laugh. Cross felt his bones tense. The voice was one he had heard only days ago.

“That weird monster you almost killed,” Chara nodded.

The skeleton raised their hands up to their head, a mock show of surrender, “Jeez, don't bite my head off.”

Cross’ knife materialised in his hand and he immediately latched on to it, sending a small nod of acknowledgement in Chara's direction, “I knew you were trouble.”

The skeleton's empty eye sockets grew wilder as a malicious grin spread across their face, “Trouble? You flatter me, but I haven't even done anything yet," they took a step towards Cross.

"Not one for conversation?" a knife slid down from their sleeve, "That's fine, I'm sure you'll scream loud enough to make up for it.”

They laughed again, an empty and unamused laugh before moving without delay. They swung the rusty and stained knife in Cross’ direction, missing him by a fraction of a second as his form flickered and he reappeared behind them, putting all the force he could into the kick he sent to the back of their head.

They flew to the ground, muck flying into the air around them. Cross attached his now red knife to his back and leaped forward, pinning their shoulders to the soil with as much pressure as he could manage, “Why are you here? What do you want?”

Killer punched his arm, likely in an attempt to push him away, though it was an entirely fruitless endeavour. Another swing, this time at his face, had him staggering back. That was.. unusual: he had never been so sluggish before.

He looked down to his arm to see there was a knife jammed into his forearm. Immediately a throbbing pain consumed his whole body and he swallowed the bile that rised in his throat. He quickly glanced back at the skeleton, only for his head to be forced in the other direction by a large bone.

He hissed in annoyance at the fuzziness that grew when he tried to move his arm. The knife was only going to make this more difficult, so he latched on to the handle, ripping it out from his radius.

The gentle sounds of the forest were interrupted by a loud screech of a blaster charging behind him. Cross jumped out of the way, teleporting to stand on top of it.

The magic was thin like gas, though still somehow supporting his weight. He grabbed his Hack Knife from behind his back and sketched an ‘X’ through the blaster. He repositioned it to fire at its owner and fought off a sigh of relief at the large light that flooded the clearing below him.

A bundle of bones was set to plunge into his side if he hadn't stepped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the attack and almost tripping over himself when a wave of nausea flushed him. He pressed against the open wound in his arm, the pain keeping him alert.

The skeleton appeared by his side and he moved as quickly as he got to get away, but before he could, something cold like metal was rounding his wrist. He couldn't waste any more time investigating and decided instead to plunge a bone into the skeleton's skull. They wobbled backwards, but remained standing.

Cross went to re-summon his knife, this time in his non-dominant hand, but the magic never showed. He glanced down in confusion, though the reason for his lack of magic was yet to be discovered as he was pushed to the ground. He tried again and again, but his magic wouldn't form.

“This looks familiar, doesn't it?” they gloated. A few small streams of determination ran down their face, staining the bone that was still firmly embedded in their skull. Another, larger and cleaner, knife slid down their sleeve, landing on Cross’ chest with a thud.

“Oops,” they laughed, swiping it up and idly spinning it between their fingers, “This one's my favourite, you know?”

Cross has had many near death experiences in his life. Whether it was an accident in training or a fight with a rowdy human. He always knew his death would be in battle.

But he didn't feel ready. He still wanted to save his universe, to spend time with Swap and to experience life. He wasn't ready. This can't be the end.

He thrashed around (in a more effective manner than whatever the other skeleton was doing when their positions were reversed) but it seemed hopeless. He felt the energy of magic flowing through his bones but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't short cut out of their grasp, “What did you..”

The skeleton brought their slender fingers down to graze Cross’ wrist, gently caressing the bone around the metal that was encasing it, “Pretty cool, right? I dunno how Nightmare got it but it always works.”

Cross’ voice came out lowly, strained, “Gh.. get off me.”

The skeleton hummed in thought, dragging their knife carefully across Cross’ face. It almost seemed like they were swaying with the wind, looking unstable and weak from the loss of magic, but Cross still couldn't push them off. What was wrong with him?

Why was he being so useless in the face of his own death? He needs to push off, do something, but his bones shook and were becoming weaker by the second. He needs to move. He needs to live. His head felt heavy enough to crush his body under the pressure, his chest expanding like there was something under his bones trying to burst out. Chara was silent, like his death didn't mean he would die too. He felt alone. He felt scared.

The dirt felt like sandpaper beneath him, a fan going faster than he could comprehend, turbines sharp like knives and he was being pressed right against it. It seemed dangerous to lean into the ground, but the obvious danger was right above him, raising their knife from against his cheek and flipping it so it was hovering over his soul.

“I liked this, even if I knew I would win either way. You were fun while you lasted…” they trailed off.

A quiet crack rang out from inside their skull, then another. The bone snapped in half, immediately dropping out from their eye socket, allowing a lengthy pool of determination to spill out alongside it. The pool seemed to go on for ages. The sight made Cross nauseous but he couldn't look away.

“Heh,” the skeleton let out one final, airy laugh and fell to the ground like a fish out of water. Cross shoved their legs off him and pushed himself further away from their apparently unconscious body. He turned to the side to avoid vomiting all over himself.

Noise he hadn't realised had gone away flooded back. The birds were flying in the leaves and his frantic gasps for oxygen became something he could hear again. The metal cuff on his wrist burned like fire, and he wanted it off.  He wrapped his fingers around it and tried to pull. He was strong, he was sure he had broken metal with just his hands before-


ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ṽ̵͇̟̺̣͓̰̭̲̼̻̪̩̰͒̓̿̄̾̔̊͝ͅë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝ i̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅf̵̢̻͈̫̬̻͔̘̞͈̆̇̍̈̌͊ͅ ḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ c̵̛̥͊ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅu̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓l̶̬̞͎̖͉̹̝͕̝͖̣̉͆d̶̡̲̗̼̮̤̤̳̲͖͓͍͔͓̓̎̽́̽̏̐͂̆͆͘͘͘ǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅ r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝m̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝m̵̢͕̫̓̔͑̊̈b̸̼̋͛̑͆̈́͗̿̅ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠ i̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅt̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅ


A cry of frustration escaped his throat and he swallowed the next wave of magic that threatened to escape his teeth. His stomach swirled uncomfortably, his head felt like it would explode, he felt ̷p̷a̷̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷̷t̷̷i̷̷c̷.

Being alone was rare for him. He had to take care of his siblings, after all, and he couldn't afford to look away for even a moment. He cared about his siblings and the punishment that would follow if his dad found out anything had happened would hurt worse than any accident ever could be. That's why he had to be extra careful. Just in case.

So moments like this where he was alone were especially uncomfortable.

“Would you like some tea?” Queen Toriel offered from across the table, “You seem quite tense, my dear.”

“I'm alright, thank you, Miss,” Cross nodded, “Is this about my father?”

Toriel’s face tensed the way it always did when they had these conversations, “I know it seems scary but if something is going on you know you can tell me anything.”

“Nothing's going on,” he responded, “My father is normal.”

“I'm not saying he isn't,” she said, her voice always made him feel more comfortable, “Me and my husband just aren't sure he's spending as much time with you and your siblings as he should.”

“That's not his fault. He's busy.”

Toriel winced and nodded, “I know, darling. but wouldn't it be nice if he wasn't as busy? If he had more time off work?”

“Off work? He says that's only for emergencies.”

“You're only a child, Sans. You need to be taken care of, just like your siblings do.”

Cross pulled his eyes up from her table and met her gaze. Her eyes were soft, winkled, ̷p̷̷i̷̷t̷̷y̷̷i̷̷n̷̷g̷. He scowled and curled in on himself like he could hide in plain sight. It was stupid. It was-

His father was furious. It was a rage he hadn't seen in years. When he had burst through the doors to F̵̜̜͎͉̯̜̓͂r̵̡͕͈͚͍͍̼͕̍̀̈́̽̎̍͗̍́̏̚͜͠i̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅs̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅk̵̘̺̦͉͖̪̪͖͉͊̆̔́̈́̍̃̈́͒̂̑̀̚͜͝'s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅ. Chara's room and locked eyes with him , immediately he knew he was in trouble. Father had not said a word, only took his hand and dragged him through the elegant halls of Toriel’s castle.

His father's grasp wasn't gentle. It was tight and painful and unlike anything he had experienced before.

“̷S̷̷a̷̷n̷̷s̷,” his father's voice was emotionless, though it was clear he was seathing“ẃ̸̝̝̰͋͒ḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝ǎ̴̯̀͠t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅ y̶͔͗ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅu̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓ ḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝ǎ̴̯̀͠ṽ̵͇̟̺̣͓̰̭̲̼̻̪̩̰͒̓̿̄̾̔̊͝ͅë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ d̶̡̲̗̼̮̤̤̳̲͖͓͍͔͓̓̎̽́̽̏̐͂̆͆͘͘͘ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅd̶̡̲̗̼̮̤̤̳̲͖͓͍͔͓̓̎̽́̽̏̐͂̆͆͘͘͘ǎ̴̯̀͠y̶͔͗ i̶̡̹͈͎̳̞͙͖̾̂̀͑̀͆̑̓̽̉͐͘͘ͅs̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅ b̸̼̋͛̑͆̈́͗̿̅ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ǎ̴̯̀͠t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝ u̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅ. B̶̨̛̺̤̱̾̀́̋̔̆̏̎͘͘ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ǹ̷̨͍̮̥̹̘͙̗̻̬̬̜̥̮̃̒̈́̽͗̿̍̄̂̏͆͠͝ë̸͓̮͉͈͇͍̖͎̩̞͈́́́̋̇̾͋̈́̾͆͑͘͘͜͠͝ǎ̴̯̀͠t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅḥ̸̨̧̗̮̖̽̂̓̀̍̋͋́̅̃͘͜͝ y̶͔͗ŏ̸̡̼̺̫̥̻͈̞̍͆̏̓́͜͝ͅu̷̬̩̰̫͕̘͎̔́̃̄̍͋̓. I̸̺̺͎̰̥̜̯̼̮̰͖̜͂͆̿̈́̿̔t̸̫̫̤͕̳̻̰̣̭́̌̉͝ͅ ẃ̸̝̝̰͋͒ǎ̴̯̀͠s̴̹̀̎̇͗̍͗̾̋̏̈͐͒̕͠͠ͅ”


pathetic.

To say the meat was cooked certainly wouldn't be a lie; though it may be considered an understatement. Swap cheered as the last flame was extinguished, “At last! Another meal conquered by the Spectacular Sans! Er- Swap.”

“Nice one, bro,” Papyrus hummed from where he leaned against the door frame.

“It surely would have been easier with someone's help,” Swap jeered, crossing his arms but keeping his grin nonetheless, “Now, where is Cross? He said he'd only be a few minutes.”

Papyrus shrugged, letting out a gust of smoke from behind his teeth, “Maybe he forgot.”

“That's so unlike him,” he gasped, “What if he was kidnapped?”

“He looked like he was in a rush on his way out. Maybe he has somewhere to be,” Paps suggested, “Or he got kidnapped.”

“Hm.. well, not to fear! The Spectacular Swap will search for him! Make sure my chilli doesn't un-burn," Swap jumped out of his closed window, effectively greeting the ground with his face. It took less than a second for him to get back to his feet, bones and clothes stained with thick globs of mud and pierced with pieces of glass.

“Don't be too long, bro. Your little friend is still here,” Papyrus called through the now-open window.

“THE SPECTACULAR SWAP WILL BE SWIFT,” he shouted, turning away from the window to hide the flush in his cheeks.

Heavy gray clouds appeared to be inching closer to town, so gray he had almost mistaken them as black, “IT LOOKS LIKE IT WILL RAIN. DON'T FORGET TO TAKE IN THE CARROT.” Swap began to rush towards the center of town, an area which was far more populated than the outskirts.

“Sans!” his human neighbour called from their door, “What was all the smoke about? I almost thought your house was on fire.”

Swap laughed nervously, “Just a kitchen mishap.”

They shook their head, “Better luck next time. You'll get there eventually, I'm sure.” the door slammed shut behind them. though Swap could still hear them shout something to their kids.

He continued down the road without further interruption. Everyone must have returned to their homes for the night already. Normally the walk to the center of town would take less than ten minutes but the seconds lasted for hours as the dark clouds drew closer.

There was an eerie silence wafting through the air. There was no indistinguishable chatter, no shoes clacking against the ground and no birds in the sky. Swap pushed his discomfort away and rushed towards the fish monster that looked to be closing up for the day.

“Hello, friend! I hate to bother you but have you seen a skeleton that kinda looks like me but has a scar on their face lately? He was supposed to come home ages ago,” he asked, accompanied by his most charming smile.

The stall owner leaned against the wall, looking at him past their shades, “Looks like you, ay? Hmm.. Yeah I think I saw him. He was wanderin’ over East. Looked like he was in a rush too.”

“A rush? Great. He could be anywhere,” Swap allowed himself to sulk for a moment, “Well thank you for your assistance, friend! Be safe.”

“You too,” they replied, turning away.

He risked a glance to his left groaning as he was met with an impossible to see past wave of fog. Just what he needed. It was probably getting late. His brother was waiting for him and for all he knows Cross could have shown up as soon as he left. This endeavour was likely more trouble than it was worth; everything in Swap was screaming in discomfort, to go home, but he was nothing if not a good friend.

His boot momentarily felt like it was glued to the ground, stuck in dried cement and immovable. Magic swirled around in his chest and he forced a grin on his face, laughing at the empty air. He was being ridiculous, like a couple of fog could hinder the Spectacular Swap. A small shake of his head and he pushed himself forward. Nothing to be afraid of, just air being weird. Normal surface things that humans were accustomed to and therefore is nothing to panic about.

Though the streets did seem unusually empty, unlike every other day he'd find himself out while the sun sets, (which wasn't often as he was a very schedule-orientated skeleton) there were no animals, no monsters. No one. A gust of wind swept by his feet, so cold he could feel it through his boots. The dark clouds swirled around far above him, inspiring dread into his bones.

The wind grew stronger, fog swarmed the road as he walked through with as much speed as he could manage without breaking into a run. There was no need for haste. Nothing was there, “CROSS?” he called out, and his voice echoed back to him like he was in an empty room.

“Swap?” a soft voice responded. The tension instantly fled his body and he sighed in relief. He ushered himself towards the voice, eventually a silhouette became visible in the dark clouds.

“Dream,” Swap greeted his friend with a grin, “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be walking yet.”

His eye lights drifted down in curiosity. Dream may heal fast but there was no way they had regenerated the last of their bones in only the few minutes Swap had left for, right? He squinted and tilted his head as far as he could but was still incapable of seeing past the thickening fog.

“.. Dream?” he stepped towards the skeleton with a hand outstretched but stopped himself mere inches away. Something was missing. Where warmth usually surrounded Dream there was nothing but an illusion. The relief that Swap had felt was instinct. How his body thinks it should react when they are nearby. But nothing was there. This skeleton may look and sound like Dream but Swap couldn’t be more certain this was a facade.

He grabbed the skeletons shoulder and forced them to face him, though was careful not to cause too much harm to their bones. Magic lit up his hands as he prepared to summon a bone attack. Purple eye lights stared back at him, sure and unwavering.

They smiled as they leaned closer, “Never have relish in the faery power of unreflecting love,” as the last word rasped from their throat the fabric in Swap’s grasp turned to dust, scattering on to the wet ground and escaping the pull of the wind.

Swap stumbled away from where the skeleton once stood, looking around the barren street while overcome with a sense of helplessness. A vulture swooped by above him, screeching and just barely missing his skull. Finally, a sign of life.. Though it may be the most ominous sign of life there could be. He shook his head and rubbed his eye sockets. Perhaps he was hallucinating. Yes, that’s right. He pushed himself too hard and forgot to drink anything so he was hallucinating.

In that case he had better head home before anything can happen. With a flicker of magic his surroundings shifted to the familiar walls of his home. He took in a deep breath, finding that the air came much more naturally to him than it had mere seconds before. Almost instantly a wave of emotions hit him like a truck. He brought a hand up to press against his temples, a sad attempt to ease the pain. He really needed to start trying to learn healing magic.

All at once the overwhelming sensation left, leaving just a warm hand burned against his arm, “Swap? Are you okay?”

He jumped at the voice, “Ah- Dream! You’re still here," he turned to look out the nearby window and snarked, " I see my brother did not bring in the carrot like I had requested."

Dream frowned and pulled their hand away, “Sorry, I know I should have left hours ago. Your universe is probably way too positive. I’ll go-”

“Woah! NO YOU WILL NOT! Where do you think you’ll be going with half a foot? Stay where you are,” Swap jumped to his feet, pushing the skeleton back to lay on the sofa.

“I need to leave, Swap. I’m sorry but this is serious. My aura-”

“I’m sure your aura can wait until after dinner,” he walked off before Dream could object further, resting his head against the cold wooden door.

He could hear his soul thump so loudly it sounded like the noise was coming from his skull. From the other room he could hear a door creak open and mentally prepared himself to lecture Dream again when he returned. He pushed back open the door, but it wasn't Dream attempting to make an escape; it was Cross, looking muddy and tired.

“Where have you been?” Swap asked, “I was just out looking for you.”

“Sorry, Swap. I just got distracted,” the skeleton mumbled, tugging on the sleeve of his jumper.

“Are you okay? You feel distressed,” Dream pushed themself back up to examine Cross with their own eyes, “You didn't get into any trouble did you?”

Cross scowled, “No.”

A silence washed over the room and Swap could practically feel a bead of magic roll down the side of his face, “I'll go get dinner!”

Cross snapped to attention, “It's okay, I'll do it. You should sit down.”

It was then that Swap recalled his hallucination from only minutes ago, forgoing all intentions to decline, “Alright! Don't get lost,” he teased, sitting down, possibly too close to Dream, though the yellow skeleton didn't say anything about it.

The door shut gently behind Cross and Dream instantly turned to face him, “Have you talked to him yet?”

Swap pouted, “I've tried but he doesn't want to. I don't want him to be mad at me if I keep pushing.”

“He won't,” Dream replied softly, leaning against Swap's shoulder. Their presence was comforting in a way no other creature could replicate, “He adores you. I don't think he's able to be mad at you.”

“I don’t want to risk it,” he decided, “Is there any way to dampen your aura?”

Dream wilted, “No, there isn’t. If there was, I would have found it by now.”

“Well I'm sure there has to be some way to stop it. Maybe you're just not looking in the right areas,” Swap hummed in consideration.

“Listen, Swap, I appreciate that you're trying but even if I want to get rid of the aura, I can't. It's what makes people happy and I would rather be uncomfortable forever than every other creature be sad forever,” Dream said, folding their hands in their lap, “You shouldn’t waste energy trying to fix my problems, you should focus on helping Cross. He needs you more than I do.”

“He knows I'll always be there for him.”

“Then make sure he doesn't forget that,” they replied sternly, “He's been through a lot and he's angry. He needs someone like you.”

“Hm, I suppose you're right. The Spectacular Swap will not fail in cheering up his newest friend,” he drawled, his cape flowing along with a sudden gust of wind.

A tentacle wrapped around his soul was nothing out of the ordinary.  The tearing of the organ from its place, the smushing it into a different shape are all things he must grow used to. It made his body explode in pain he couldn't express. Like gallons of  water being forced into a small glass container. It rang through his head, as grating as a high pitched ringing that only got louder and louder until his mind was fractured into tiny pieces.

The crack in his skull had only gotten larger, the two sides of his bones being pulled away from each other by liquid negativity, influencing his soul to shift into a heart like shape. Of course, the consequences of their own actions only enraged Nightmare further, as a result the manipulation of the determined soul only hurt that much more. It almost felt as if the goop was being injected into him. In his mind he could picture a piece of it separating itself from the rest of the mass, forcing itself in between his bones and dripping through his body until it swallowed him whole.

It felt like there was nothing left to be consumed, Killer’s head hung low, exhaustion swept through his body, a fact that had only become more evident when Chara had stopped their chatter. His eye socket stung, determination still leaking uncontrollably. The black streams stained his jacket and were dripping onto the floor.

His boss stared down at him, disgust evident on their face, “A hagfish that is incapable of escaping a shark. Possessing a purpose but too useless to fulfil it.”

Magic shot up his throat, splatting onto the ground with a cough that stabbed the back of his mouth, he groaned, too tired to wipe away the liquid that fell from his teeth. His body vibrated from where he held himself up, seconds away from hitting the stone beneath him. His fingers shook like they would snap under his weight, colourful dots swarmed his vision.

“It makes one wonder if you ever had value. If something else is the root of your failure,” a tentacle slithered around his chin, tilting it up so they could see his emotionless grin, “Of the wide world I stand alone, and think.”


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A wave of emotions hit him like a truck, causing him to finally collapse, just barely being held up by the thick tentacles. A sob sounded from his teeth and the stream of tears only grew larger.

“Could it be another attempt to run from your purpose?” Nightmare’s eye zero’d in on him, examining him like he was under a microscope.

“My brother’s aura?” they spat out, their grip on his chin tightening.

“Possibly another creature, even more vile than yourself. The Swap? The X?” their grin grew at the next sound that came from him, “Yes. That’s it isn’t it?”

The tentacles dropped him, slithering back to sit behind the guardian, “A universe inspired by Underswap. Deleted now. Interesting. What an odd anomaly. I will have to solve this problem by inquiring further about the source.”

Chapter Text

There’s a saying that goes like, “The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.” Dream doesn’t remember where they had heard it; they were never a reader. In fact; they probably heard it from their brother. Hundreds of years ago they would read them to sleep each night. Their voice would never waver when they turned a page and they never stuttered over words like Dream probably would if they knew how to read. It was cold when the sky turned dark and they were away from the fires that lit up the town’s houses. Their capes would provide heat but nothing made Dream feel warmer than their voice when there was no other sound but the wind.

They loosened their grip on the fork they hadn’t realised they were squeezing and pried their eyes from the table. Cross looked down at the plate before him with a feeling of disappointment that Dream would be able to see even if they couldn’t sense emotions. Every two seconds Swap would “Mwehehe” under his breath, so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realised there was nothing left on his plate. Yes, Dream nodded to themself, that saying would definitely describe this situation perfectly.

The heavy emotions that swept the air were uncomfortable. It wasn’t often their aura was doing so little to the atmosphere of a room, likely because their magic was focusing on regrowing their bones, so they cleared their throat and took matters into their own hands, “I think you’ve definitely improved, Swap.”

“Mweh?” Swap perked up from his intense staring match with the wall, “Oh! Mwehehe! T’is only natural you praise the Spectacular Swap for his confounding cooking! ”

Cross poked the black meat with his fork, watching as it jiggled like jelly before wobbling back to its former position, “Confounding is definitely a word you could use to describe it.”

“Thank you, friend!” Swap beamed at him, “Though the Spectacular Swap is admittedly a bit confused about what took you so long.”

“Ah- it was.. I got lost,” Cross mumbled, his face a shade of purple Dream wasn’t aware it could turn, “Sorry.”

“Are you alright?” they asked, reaching forward to hover their hand over Cross’, “You feel really nervous. Did something happen?”

Cross glared at them and yanked his hand out from beneath theirs, “What I feel is none of your business.”

“I'm sorry,” Dream apologised instantly, pulling their hand back to their chest, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just-”

“Then leave me alone,” Cross hissed, “You don’t have to know everything about me, get off my case,” His voice was sharp and pointed, fangs visible while he spoke, adding a layer of danger to his words.

Dream sunk into their chair, unnervingly aware of the emotions that plagued the room. They were so strong it was like they were their own. It’s something they should be accustomed to; the changes in their own attitude, the effect of their aura on others, but even after ten years of being around it all, nothing had changed. They still found themself acting on others feelings and influencing people’s decisions. They ignored Cross’ annoyance and tried to clear their head, “I didn’t mean to. If I make you uncomfortable I’ll try to avoid you from now on.”

“There’s no need to go that far,” Swap cut in, finally placing his silverware down, “I’m sure Cross isn’t actually upset at you, Dream, he’s probably just frazzled after losing track of time. Right?” he looked towards Cross with a weak grin on his face.

The monochrome skeleton fixed his glare back at his plate and mumbled, “Could you take me home, Swap?”

Swap’s face fell, “You haven’t finished eating yet, friend.”

Dream winced and felt their eye twitch, unconsciously clenching their fist. Their aura was something they knew made some people uneasy, supposed 'artificial positivity' was a concept that would throw most off, especially if they didn't realise it was happening at first. Back home it was something villagers craved, something they loved and praised them for. They treated it like it was normal, a fact of life that they couldn't get enough off. It made Dream feel important at the time, that their power was a blessing that saved them from soul crushing loneliness. But here it was different, here people lashed out and screamed and cried and it was messy and everything they were created to fix.

"Here, I'll open a portal-"

"It's okay, Dream. You shouldn't be using magic while you heal anyways," Swap pushed out his chair and reached towards the device strapped to Cross' wrist, "The Omega Timeline, right, friend-o?"

"No where else to go," Cross mumbled, staring down at the combination of letters and numbers that flickered onto the glass screen, "Thanks, Swap."

"Of course-" a click sounds from the device and Cross' form flickered away like it was never there in the first place. Dream stared down at the empty seat, a tsunami of anger flowing out of their mind, leaving a buzzing sensation in its wake. Their hand grasped for the wooden table when their vision began to swirl from the sudden change Swap sighed and looked back at his empty plate, a few specks of char still littered the home made plate which he scooped into a pile and shovelled into his mouth.

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, Swap. I'll stay off my feet, I promise," they said as they pulled out their chair and summoned a vertical pool of gold liquid. It swayed in circles until an image of Fluffytale reflected back at them.

"What? You can't leave, you're still healing," he objected, raising a hand to Blue their soul before they could step through the portal. His magic fell flat as the portal closed behind them.

As soon as Dream's half regenerated foot met the ground they slipped on melting snow, their skull hitting the ground with a thud.

"Oh my stars! Are you okay?" a squeak resounds from above them. Dream warily pushes themself to sit up, resting their weight on the palm of their hand.

"I'm fine, don't worry," they winced at the anxiety radiating off the purple cat in front of them.

"Your feet! How can I help?" the monster stammered, dropping in the snow to meet their eye.

Dream shook their head, "I've already been healed. They'll grow back soon, though I appreciate your concern."

The monster didn't look reassured, "Isn't there some way I can help you?"

Sweat darted down Dream's skull at the thought of bothering this clearly caring individual. But they had already stopped. Maybe helping would make them feel better. "I need to get to Ccino's place. Could you help me get there?"

The monster chewed on the side of their lip hesitantly but slowly nodded, "Sure. How'd you know Ccino? Are you one of his visitors?"

"Nothing like that. He's just a friend of mine."

"Right," the cat monster winked, pulling Dream up and off the ground in one fell swoop. They resisted letting a yelp slip at the sudden movement. "Funny. That's what all his visitors say."

"How do you know him?"

The cat laughed, "Are you kidding? Everyone in this universe knows Ccino. He's the most popular part of us."

"You know about the multiverse? How?"

"Your kind show up every five minutes, darling. I'd be concerned if anyone here didn't know," they laughed, confidently walking through a crowd of monsters.

"Ah.." Dream hummed, "Can you put me down?"

"I don't think you should be walking with half your feet gone," they responded, "We're almost there, sweetheart."

Fluffytale was always full of monsters and humans. It was a popular universe, one frequently visited by creatures from other worlds. It's buildings were large and beautiful, each one built and designed with care. There weren't many other universes like it, ones that had manufactured sights that were just as pleasing to bask in as the stars in Outertale. 

"Here we are," they mumbled as they crept closer to a stained glass window, "Do you want me to carry you in?"

Dream was placed against the window, "I'm alright. Thank you."

"Of course, darling," they smiled, "I hope Ccino treats you well," the wink before meandering away.

It was difficult to limp over to the counter where Ccino worked, but Dream was nothing if not persistent.

"Hello, Dream," Ccino smiled, "Haven't heard from you in a while."

"Hi, Ccino. It's good to see you again. I wish I weren't here on business but.."

Ccino nodded in understanding, "I see. Take a seat in a free booth, I'll be with you in a moment."

Dream dreaded having to walk again, but pushed themself away from the counter to limp to the booth closest to them.

Ccino returns quickly, a taller monster now standing behind the counter, "Sorry to keep you waiting. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"Is the skeleton I sent here a couple days ago still here?" they asked, fidgeting with their hands beneath the table. The seats weren't quite high enough for them to be able to kick their feet back and forth.

Ccino's face scrunched up, "Skeleton? There hasn't been a new one in a while. No one's mentioned you, not that I can remember. Why do you ask?"

Dream felt their heart sink, "A monster asked me for help and I brought them here. I told them to talk to you."

"Do you think they're hurt?"

Dream sighed, "No. I think he may be working with Nightmare. The moment I saw him I knew something was wrong. His emotions.. I couldn't feel them. That's never happened before."

"Weird," Ccino frowned, drumming their fingers against the table, "Hey, I don't know a lot about this stuff, but I could offer you a drink? It'll be on the house."

"If it's not too much trouble," they smiled, although faltered after a few seconds, "But I can't quite remember any beverages. It's been so long since I've had one."

"That's okay, I'll just make you one of my favourites," Ccino smiled, shuffling out of the booth, "I'll be right back"

They were different in Glowtale. Dream sat watching over the universe, remaining out of sight in a rare display of acknowledging Ink's orders to never be seen. Their presence was to ease the universe out of its slump. Negativity had been high and didn't seem to be getting better by itself.

They could feel the new monsters as soon as they arrived. Two strong sources of emotions, immediately making the aura plummet. It was so strong their mind fell silent from a moment, thoughts wiped away by the wave of feelings. 

They felt different. They were not numb, like before. There was fog, but over it Dream could see a soft glow of red.

How could they be so stupid? Of course it was the same monster.

Dream's eye lights flicker over to one of the windows, and a lump rises to the back of their throat. Their vision blurs as they reach out to nearby universes. They wince as they discover one with negativity levels almost as high as in Glowtale. That couldn't be natural. They should investigate but if Nightmare is there they don't want to imagine what could happen. They couldn't fight with their feet like this. They shouldn't risk it. But their purpose is to prevent things like this. An idea strikes them and they open a portal, quickly disappearing into it before Ccino could see.

On the other side is the Omega Timeline, and once again Dream falls flat on their face. Instead of being met with soft, warm grass, they hit concrete.

"Gah-!"

There was no one around to have seen their fall, something they were extremely grateful for, and they quickly stood up, wobbly walking over to the unique signature Core Frisk's emotions carried. They still had emotions, but they had an unusual taste. They were artificial and slightly numbed but vibrant all at the same time.

As Core's emotions become stronger, so did the feelings of another. They sighed. It seems they cannot escape Cross since the moment they've met.

They push forward and tap the human on the shoulder just as they were about to say something to Cross, "Sorry to bother you, Core, but there's a problem in Horrortale and I was wondering if you could see what's happening."

Core looked them up and down and grew a teasing smile, "I see everything, silly."

There was an awkward silence as they all stared at each other, Dream shifted under Cross' cold glare, and Core's expectant grin, "Can you tell me?"

"I could~ but I want something in return," they said, batting their eyes up at Dream.

"What? I don't have anything," Dream responded, trying their best to avoid Cross's eye.

Core laughed, "Don't be so sure. Your aura causes a dopamine boost. I want you to put as much dopamine in my system as you can. I'll tell you what you want if you do."

Dream blanched, "What? I can't do that!"

"Why not?" they pouted, stomping their feet.

"That's so dangerous. I cannot in my right mind do that."

Core's eyes narrowed, "Then I suppose you won't know what's happening in Horrortale."

Dream spluttered, finally looking towards Cross for help, only to receive a judgemental quirk of his brow, "I- you can't be serious. This could hurt you horribly."

"I won't get hurt," they responded with certainty, "I wouldn't ask if I knew I would."

"What if you saw wrong?" Dream argued.

"I don't see wrong."

"....Fine."

Cross frowned, throwing a glance towards Chara.

"Is it just me or is this super shady?" the ghost asked at the same time as Dream agreed to Core's deal.

Cross nodded, standing awkwardly  as Core cheered and jumped to shove Dream into a hug, successfully ending with both of them on the floor, "Yes! Oh, thank you, Dream. You won't regret this."

Dream laughed and gently shoved Core off them, "So. Horrortale?"

"Oh, right. Lemme see," they huffed, "Nightmare has spread a lot of negativity. It was bad before but its ghastly now. They're not there but they'll notice if you're there for too long. Be careful."

"I could go with you," Cross chimed in, earning himself confused looks by the humans around him.

Dream frowned, "I wouldn't want to bother you, Cross."

"It won't bother me. And you can hardly stand. It wouldn't be right to leave you on your own."

"What are you doing?" Cross spat under his breath "..You can make me speak?"

Cross' hands shook at his side, a weird feeling creeping through his bones. He shut his eyes for a moment to keep back a sudden sting in the corners.

"Are you crying?" Chara laughs from his own mouth, thank the stars, "You're so pathetic."

Cross flinched and hid further into his scarf.

"If.. if you insist," Dream replied, standing up with the help of Core Frisk.

"Right," Cross nodded.

"Don't take long~" Core sang, rocking back and forth on the ball of their feet.

Grains of soil flew into the air, spinning around in circles until a yellow oval portal grew and a universe filled with fog swam in between flashes of magic.

Cross raised a begrudging arm for Dream to lean on, which they did with a frown stuck to their face. They stepped through the pool of magic, Cross gawked at the amount of fog on the ground.

It was still easier to see through than the snow in Glowtale, thankfully, but it was ominous and had Cross on edge. His shoulders raised and he made sure to be aware of his surroundings. They could be surrounded by a herd of monsters for all they know.

"You look ridiculous," Chara observed.

"I don't," Cross whined whispered indignantly.

"What?" Dream asked, easier to see than anything else in the word thanks to the magic that radiated from their bones. Great. A beacon leading anyone around straight to them.

"Nothing. What are we doing here?"

"I need to figure out what's causing this much negativity and stop it. If it's a problem between monsters it'll be easy but if it's from Nightmare's influence it'll be harder to do anything. I'd have to take my time and I don't have a lot of that," Dream responded.

Cross nodded, "Then let's ask around."

They took a few steps and a rugged Christmas tree came into view, wilted with no leaves. It must've been there a while. A raspy, broken cough sounded out from behind the tree and Cross accidently tightened his grip on Dream's arm as he creeped towards the monster.

Dust flew with the wind, clinging to their bones like magnets. On the floor was a monster, dust flying off the side of their head a grin burned into his face. Cross met eyes with the monster and he felt calmer. His shoulders dropped and he stared.

"Oh, no," Dream said, "Do you think we can help them?"

Cross blinked, kneeling down so they could hear, "Do you want help?"

In an instant the smile slipped from their face, replaced by a scowl. The monster hissed and weakly kicked at Cross' leg.

Cross backed away, "No. I don't think so."

"What did you say?" Dream questioned.

"Doesn't matter," Cross said, standing properly again and guiding the guardian away from the tree.

"You said something that upset them. Tell me what it is," they demanded, tearing their arm away from Cross, standing wobbly until Cross steadied them.

Cross glanced towards the fog, a loud crunch in the snow below giving away someone stepping closer to them.

"Woah, woah woah," a gruff sounding monster chimed in, "Well if it isn't more friends. Welcome!"

The bear placed two heavy paws on the top of each of their skulls, grinning down at them. They towered over the skeletons, almost three feet taller than them both, "I wasn't expecting more of you."

"More of us?" Dream spoke, "Was there a skeleton that looked like us around here earlier?"

"Sure was," the bear winked, crossing his arms, "Nice little fella. Just like Sans used to be."

Dream stepped closer to the bear, leaning more of their weight onto Cross' arm as they did so, "Did something happen here?"

The bear laughed, "Lots has happened here, kid. Lot's of history in these walls, believe it or not. It all started when that human came through-"

"I mean.. recently," Dream interrupted, "Something bad happened, didn't it? I can help."

"Bad?" the bear's smile dimmed, "Pfft. This has been the best thing to happen to us in years."

Another gust of wind blew by, and the distant coughing stopped. 

"Alright. I can see when I'm not wanted. Not in the mood for a story, eh? Well usually I wouldn't let that slide but your groups the ones that are feeding us. Just don't bite each others heads off, okay? There's been enough of that already," the bear laughed again, slowly dragging their feet as they stomped away.

Dream stared at the large footsteps left in the snow, "That was weird."

Cross hummed, shuffling away from the tree and further into the fog. It surrounded them, like steam being pumped into a room. There was no way it was natural.

Dream clung to his side, their footsteps were slower than his, and Cross huffed at the annoyance, "How did you do that?" he whispered at Chara, careful to turn his head away from Dream.

"Do what?" Chara replied, not bothering to hide the boredom that was present in his tone.

"You know what," he spat, "You made me speak."

"I didn't," Chara said innocently,.

Another crunch of snow behind fog shifted Cross' focus towards dark shadows in the horizon, "Someone's watching us."

The crunches sped up and grew louder, "Dream, you should run."

Dream scoffed and summoned a bow, "You want me to run? I am the Guardian of positivity not a baby."

The creature hiding in the shadows jumped forward, narrowly missing Cross' arm. He jumped away, taking Dream with him, "You're missing your feet."

The creature laughed, shifting the knife they had between fingers and Cross scowled upon meeting eyes with them.

"Ready for round three?" they asked, wiping away a fraction of the black goo on their face and ending up smearing it further up their face.

Of course it was the monster with the weird soul. Cross couldn't seem to escape him. He pulled his knife out from its sheath on his back, it was practically useless in its red form except for..

He moved before anyone else could, slashing at Dream before they could move. He raised a hand and sent the skeleton as deep into the fog as he could before the red souled skeleton stabbed his skull. He stumbled away from him, raising a hand to keep the knife in. The skeleton laughed again, pulling another knife from the inside of their coat.

The monster jumped forward, aiming a kick at Cross' stomach. Cross grabbed his arm and threw him away, looking around for the hack knife he had dropped in his fluster. His eye caught the glowing weapon as the other skeleton returned, swinging his new knife at Cross' side. 

Cross reached for his knife and threw a calculated swing at the monster, stopping him in his tracks. He spared a glance at the cuff still stuck to his own wrist, hidden from view by thick fabric and backed away from him before he could do something he didn't want to, picking up his knife as he passed it by.

"What do you plan to do about that?" Chara asked, shifting close enough to poke the skeleton. His finger just went through the bone.

"How am I supposed to know?" he retorted.

Chara scoffed, "I should've known you didn't know what to do. You're too stupid to actually do anything of use, say, how about you let me have control of the body for a few quick minutes? I bet I could get it off."

"No." Cross snapped, his steps heavy against the thick snow.

"We need to get that skeleton off our back, and you're too pussy to do anything about it," Chara spat, "Let me take control. You've been in control ever since we got put together, it's not fair."

"It's my body!" Cross argued, quickening his pace to catch up to the bright light visible through the fog.

"Not anymore, prick," he stated, "You're stuck with me. It's our body now."

"That's not how it works."

"Oh I didn't realise there was a book describing how sharing a body works. I'll be sure to read it," he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Cross glared at him, "Just leave me alone."

"You know, you're so right. I suppose I'll just go on my way now," Chara jeered, turning around to float as far away from him as he could, which is to say not very far at all.

Cross sighed, fixing his eyes on the snow. An outraged shriek turned his head in the direction of Dream. The yellow shine that usually surrounded them was barely visible.

"How dare you!" They shouted, limping towards him, "I am not incompetent! I know how to fight, better than you do, I bet."

"I was just-"

"I know that you went through something. You're traumatised, I get that, but that does not excuse you treating me like shit," Dream shouted.

Cross blanched, "I am not traumatised. I 'treat you like shit' because I don't like you."

"I saved you from your dying world. I have been nothing but nice to you. All I ask is that you do the same."

"You always act like you know so much more than everyone else. Like you think we're stupid-"

"I do not do that," Dream squabbled.

"-and you didn't 'save me' I wanted to stay there. You took me away from my home," Cross barked.

Dream took a deep breath, grabbed Cross' arm and opened a portal, "Your home is gone. You should feel lucky you aren't."

The Omega Timeline appeared on the other side, and Dream pushed Cross in before he could say anything else.

Chapter Text

July 30th 2018

“Stupid.. Nightmare..” Cross spat, holding back another wince. The knife in his skull was pressed deep into bone, near impossible to pull out. It still ached

Chara interrupted, “If I have to watch you cry over this for any longer I think I’ll die.”

“I could only dream,” he muttered, closing his eye sockets and taking in the comforting familiar bark against his spine. One breath, two, three-

“Hey, bud!”

Cross jumped, accidently hitting his head against the tree.

"Woah! Your face is messed up!" Ink exclaimed, sitting down opposite him with a wildly grin on their face, "Aren'tcha gonna heal it?"

"I can't," Cross bit out, covering the area in his skull where magic still leaked from. He hissed in pain and pushed himself further away from Ink. Half of his reason for turning away was so he couldn't see Ink, the other half entirely from shame. He had been told before- showing pain was an unforgivable weakness, one that could be fatal.

Ink's colourful eyes flickered, from shape to shape from colour to colour, changing in an unpredictable pattern that Cross used to find himself staring at for hours. Or however long Ink was staying for that day. They were so different from home in a way that was captivating, like seeing the sun for the first time.

With each blink there was a new form of magic. But now they stayed the same. Colourful and unique but unmoving. The difference made Cross frown. 

"You don't know how? I can do it for you," Ink tugged his broom from his back, caressing it gently for one second too many. They smiled and shoved the bristles onto Cross' face with no preamble, laughing when Cross backed away.

Cross plucked a thin bristle off his skull with a glare, "..thanks."

"My pleasure," Ink said in a faux deep voice, a misplaced attempt at humour. They laughed again, "So, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here after our less than awesome conversation."

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to let you in on a secret," they winked, lowering their voice and leaning closer, "I know how you feel about not knowing important stuff."

Cross took a moment to look at him. At their devious grin. At the cold colours in their eye sockets betraying the aforementioned grin. He hadn't expected Ink to know anything not surface level about him, "Er- yeah."

Ink kept his voice low, whispering like they was anyone near enough to hear. Monsters had started to avoid the tree he had claimed after one too many intense stares, "There's another meeting in Underswap about something or another I wasn't really paying attention. Prolly just another snooze fest."

Cross hummed. The last meeting was fruitless. No one except Dream knew anything about Nightmare and that was more childhood memories than methods of murder. It would be unusual for them to have a second one after such a pathetic failure of the first one about the same topic, or perhaps they were debating ways to go about stopping them while keeping them alive....

It could be about that weird skeleton. Dream has had multiple encounters with him now. They had probably mentioned him, at least.

"Do you think you could bring me?"

Ink blinked but his eye lights did not flicker. They grinned, "Sure! We'd be pretty late though."

"Then let's not waste any time," Cross nodded, offering his hand to them.

Ink hummed, wrapping their hand around his with a dismayed expression. Their bones weren't cold. Back home, after everything had been destroyed and his only company outside of Chara was Ink, their hugs used to be cold bone against cold bone. Now Ink's arm was hot enough for Cross to notice.

Something wasn't right, that much was clear. He shot a glance at Chara, meeting his disgruntled face. The ghost rose an eyebrow but didn't speak.

Ink tugged their broom into their arms, sliding it's black residue against the green grass around Cross' favourite tree. Ink yanked him through the pool.

The ink was different to Dream's portals. It wasn't like stepping through a door, it was stepping into deep warm water, only thicker and impossibly hotter. His mouth felt disgusting when he sprouted out from the ground.

They walked through the eerily empty halls of Queen Toriel's castle, comfortably familiar sights jumped out to Cross as he rushed down from room to room. He had ignored his surroundings on his first visit but now that he took time to look at decorations and the furniture he felt like he was home again. Like he could turn the corner and see his little brother. His brother..

It happened so quick he couldn't even remember the look on his face as he dusted him. His shoulders raised and he directed his eyes to the ground. He can't afford to think of home any more.

His shoes clicked against the floor loudly, a bold contrast to the soft padding of Ink's feet, although their steps were accompanied by their mindless humming. Eventually their padding came to a stop and they swung open the door they stood before, immediately halting all conversation from within the room.

The room felt heavy. They had just entered but it was instantly clear that no one sitting around the table was happy. Dream's aura was barely visible, two monsters looked to be crying and even Swap looked upset. A lump grew in the back of Cross' throat.

"Sorry we're late," Ink chuckled, meandering over to an empty chair and pulling Cross to a seat beside him, "Traffic was crazy."

"Ink? I thought you said you weren't coming," Swap said, leaning forward in his chair.

Dream cleared their throat, straightening their back and frowning, "I hadn't realised you were invited, Cross."

"Oh, funnily enough neither had I," Cross responded, meeting their intense gaze.

Their eye sockets narrowed, "Then why are you here?"

Cross hadn't expected such blatant exasperation from the guardian, especially not in front of a room filled with monsters. He swallowed a sarcastic response and fiddled awkwardly with his scarf beneath the table.

"Ink brought me," he shrugged, looking over to Ink's quick nods of their head.

"Remind me not to invite them next time too," Dream mumbled to Swap who huffed angrily.

"We shouldn't be fighting each other, it's just going to cause more problems. Plus we should keep you at your most powerful, right? Think happy thoughts," Swap lectured, resting his head in his hand.

"That's easier said than done," Dream replied, "I digress, we need to focus on the problem at hand."

"Right," an Alphys chimed in, arms crossed and face scarred, "You were just saying you have no plan?"

Swap hesitated, "We have concepts of a plan, but we aren't quite there yet, y'know?"

"Right," she drawled, "Is it really that complicated? Can't you set them on fire or something?"

Dream shook their head, "Nightmare is only harmed by positive energy, as weird as that sounds. My magic is made of it, so unless there's another way to make a physical embodiment of emotions then I think the only way to go about this is a physical fight between me and them."

"And you're temporarily out of commission," an Asriel finished. They looked just like his friend. Cross turned his attention to the table.

"So we just have to wait until you're better?" someone asked.

"... We could always ask him for help," Swap suggested.

Cross raised his head, a look of confusion ingrained on his face. Dream gaped, "You can't be talking about the destroyer of worlds."

"He was very sweet when he kidnapped me," Swap argued, "As long as he doesn't think you're trying to trick him he's totally civil."

"You know the destroyer of AU's?" the Alphys gawked, "Just casually?"

"There is no way we can ask him for help," another monster spoke, "That's suicidal."

"I say we give it a try," someone else said, "and pray he has a hero complex."

Dream hesitated, "I don't think that's a good idea. We don't want to get him involved."

"I don't see you coming up with any ideas," Swap retorted, raising his head while his scarf flew with a sudden gust of wind, "As far as I'm concerned my ideas would have all worked if only you hadn't shot them down."

"I wouldn't have to 'shoot them down' if your ideas made any sense," Dream scoffed.

Ink leaned in to whisper at Cross, "This is a lot more interesting than the last one."

"Something's weird. Swap would never say something like that," he mumbled back.

Chara scoffed, "Isn't it obvious? Nightmare's lackey was here literally yesterday, Ink's acting weird and now people are more argumentative? Use your miniature brain for a second."

Cross felt his blood go cold as the realisation hit him, "They're-"

Glass shattered and his hearing turned to a loud ringing. Rubble fell from the walls and the table smashed under the weight of bricks.

Fog filled the room in an instant, Cross coughed into his scarf and kept it covering his mouth. He tried to see what was happening through all the commotion, ducking his head.

The ringing faded away, replaced by shouts and crashes. He shook his head and tried to focus his eyes enough to see what was happening. A dark shadow hung above him, creeping closer to him until the ground was submerged in an inky black liquid. It was so shiny he could see his own reflection. It was so much warmer than before.

"What the fuck is this?" Chara shouted, hovering right next to him, practically clinging onto his arm.

A tentacle launched out from the walls, wrapping around his arm and tugging him into the liquid. He struggled against the pull, trying to dig his feet into the ground only for him to be pulled onto his knees. The goo clung to his bones, soft sizzling audible even through his sounds of desperation.

He tugged against the grip until his arms felt like they would pop out from their sockets. The goop felt solid, almost as if concrete had dried around his arms.

Chara yelped, flying into the furthest corner of the block he could, "Get out of there!"

"Gh-!" Cross cried, the goop slipping around his legs and pulling him into the dark. 

His eyes shut.

Killer liked the quiet. It was comfortable and hard to come by, for him, at least.

"Are you going to reset sometime this century?" Chara complained, coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Right," he responded, reaching out to press the orange button.

It happened in an instant, one second he was at the save screen and the next he was in his bed.

"You know what to do."

He nodded, shoving himself off the crooked mattress. 

Everyday was the same. 

"This is pointless," a voice whispered.

"No, this is power," another responded.

For as long he could remember he had one goal; to listen to the orders of Chara. It was ingrained in him, something he couldn't stop himself from doing like it was in his code.

Power ran through his veins but he knew it was not his own.

The skeleton stirred in front of him, eye sockets sliding open, dull eye lights looking dazed. Their eye sockets met, and they stared. No words were said, and no weapons were present.

Suddenly the skeleton flinched back against the wall, and their eyes looked around the room frantically. "Where am I?"

"Scary, huh?" Killer grinned, examining each bone on the skeletons' body. It was different looking at him under such calm circumstances. Well, calm on Killer's end. He wasn't sure if this was his first time getting kidnapped or not.

He leaned back against the wall and  summoned a tongue just to click it against his teeth, "Ever been kidnapped before?"

The monochrome skeleton continued to glare, moving his hands behind his back like he believed he could actually escape Nightmare's cuffs. Killer laughed and brought his face closer to his.

"I never caught your name," he realised, tapping on his chin with a finger, "Mines Killer."

The skeleton huffed and sunk into his oversized scarf, still maintaining his intense look to try and gain some control of the situation. Something about it made Killer's smile become as genuine as it could get, "Not talking to me?"

Just as Killer was about to lose interest, a purple liquid caught his eye. Small and shiny, lavender magic dripped from the corner of the skeletons' eye sockets. Killer gawked as the skeleton's eye lights finally dropped to the ground when he looked away.

A moment of silence passed, and Killer laughed, "What happened to your tough act? I thought you were strong."

"Let's see how you enjoy being kidnapped," he hissed, his glare returning in full force.

Killer shrugged, "I dunno, I'd say I'm having a lot of fun."

The skeleton scowled.

"It's best to just give them what they want. Nightmare's too strong to beat," Killer advised, stepping towards the hole in the wall where a door would be if the room had one. Nightmare wanted whoever was trapped to be able to see a way out.

"I don't give up," he sassed, raising his head like he could look down on Killer.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, "Your type are always the ones that break the quickest."

Killer has seen it all before. The glares, the eye contact. Someone who wanted to gain control.

"You don't scare me," the skeleton retorted, pressing his back against the wall.

"Not trying to," Killer took another step and-

"Wait!" the tied up skeleton exclaimed, "Why are you leaving?"

Killer raised a brow and turned around to face him again, "You want me to stay? I dunno if you realise this or not, but I will most likely be torturing you in the near future."

"Why aren't you doing it now?" he asked with a sceptical tone.

"Why are you complaining?"

"Why are you avoiding the question?'

"I'm not," Killer laughed, "Normally, there's more screaming and crying when you kidnap someone. What makes you so different?"

The skeleton didn't grace him with a response, only turned his head with a huff.

"I guess I'll be on my way then," he hummed, inching back to the door.

"Wait!" came a call from behind him, and Killer took delight in the purple colour that littered the others face. A new reaction, finally.

"So..." Killer smiled, "Your name?"

The skeleton glared at him, something Killer found he did quite often, and scowled, "Cross."

Chapter Text

"Cross? S'fitting considering your covered in hundreds of 'em," Killer gestured towards Cross' uniform. He slid down to sit across from him, his back pressed against the wall beside the 'door'.

Cross struggled against whatever kept his arms against each other. It didn't feel like any hand cuffs he'd been trapped in before. It burned, like a branding iron. Magic dripped down from his skull due to the heat of it. His entire body tingled and his mind felt empty. A throbbing ache lingered in his temples, ripping its way into his mind.

“Alright, next question. Where’s the Omega Timeline?” Killer asked, leaning forward.

The question threw him off. Why would he be asking how to get to the Omega Timeline and more importantly why was he expected to know the answer.

He didn't fully understand how teleportation and portals worked. Back home it was simple. He thought about going somewhere and with enough force he did. That didn't seem like the case for the rest of the multiverse, though.

“How am I supposed to know that? It’s probably where ever every other universe is.”

Chara floated beside Killer, thinking if he was close enough he could figure out what the black thing that leaked from his eye was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the same thing that they were surrounded by earlier. It hadn’t burned when it dripped on him mid fight and it had a thinner consistency, “Might be determination. It could be a side effect of his messed up soul. Like his weird looking body.”

Cross zeroed in on the soul, admiring the white lines thrown against the circle of red. 

“It isn’t,” Killer said, “Boss can find any universe if they focus enough but they can’t find this one. You know why?”

“I don’t.”

“It’s because of Dream. Nighty thinks they have a seal over it or something, only there’s no universe with a surplus of positivity. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Of course this was about Dream. That so-called guardian seemed to be more trouble then they were worth. Cross wasn't even sure what their job was. Monsters don't need their help to feel happy, they just do. The emotions that Dream makes people feel are artificial. About as real as an illusion.

“I don’t know anything about this universe stuff. If that’s what you’ve kidnapped me for then you’re out of luck,” he scoffed. 

Chara made a sound of consideration, “I mean, what else could it be? Unless it’s the colour of his magic.”

“You don’t gotta tell me. It would sure be a lot easier for you if you did though,” he smirked, tapping a thin finger against his chin, “So is this your first time getting kidnapped then?”

“Obviously.”

“Just checking,” he replied, “Do you think you’re ready?”

Cross felt his face tighten. His fingers bent at a more than uncomfortable angle to try and get a feel of the chain around his wrist. Definitely not heated metal. It felt like the gel his younger sister used to always rub on her hands to make them clean, only the temperature was more like the hot stove at home. He took a moment to try and keep himself calm.

There was an exit right in front of him, granted he had no idea which universe he’s in but that shouldn’t matter if he can get to the vial of paint Ink gave him. He pulled harder on whatever was keeping his arms in place, earning himself a laugh from Killer. He inwardly cursed himself for not asking anyone about the magic blocker still latched onto his arm. Maybe if he’d been less intimidated by the thought of asking someone for help he wouldn’t be trapped in a room with someone literally called Killer.

“What do I need to be ready for?”

“Anything,” Killer said ominously, “We don’t know what Nightmare will do with you.”

“That’s reassuring,” Chara deadpanned, returning to sulk by his side, “You’re fucked man.”

Cross held back his response to the ghost. What happened to it being our body?

“No one can be ready for anything,” he snarked, something only a smart person would do to their kidnapper.

Killer didn’t respond, letting his gaze rest on Cross. It made him shift in discomfort. If he looked close enough at his face he could see a scar around his eye socket from when he’d jammed a bone in there.

"What's this guys deal?" Chara pondered aloud, "Why's he even here?" 

“Why did you pass out when we were fighting?” Cross questioned.

Killer opened his mouth to respond, but the black liquid sprouted up from the ground, blocking his view of the other skeleton. Cross braced himself to be pulled in again. Instead of attacking him, the goo spiralled up, taking the form of a dark skeleton. A cyan eye opened in their eye socket and dug through Cross’ soul like a bullet.

This was Nightmare, the subject of Underswap’s meetings. A heartless killer. A monster he’d only ever heard of.

Chara faded away from his side. He swallowed. Here he was, tied up in front of Nightmare with no magic, no one that would look for him, clinging onto hope that he could return to his dead universe.

“You didn’t put up much of a fight.”

Cross felt his cheeks light in shame, dried magic in the corner of his eye sockets burning more than whatever was wrapped around his wrists, “I-”

“That disappointed me greatly. Here I was thinking you were a Royal Guard . You couldn’t even defeat a mindless dog. It almost makes me want to reconsider the offer I’m about to make,” Nightmare spoke confidently, eye not even wasting a second looking at him but still speaking of his failures. The sight made something in him preen at such attention.

A tentacle slithered forward, escaping the nest of tendrils that seemed to consume the room. It moved slowly, dragging against the floor like it was a reptile until it met Cross' bones. It wrapped around his leg, tightening its grip until Cross couldn't hold back a wince.

"I want you to work under me.”

The cuffs burned into his wrists, incessant sizzling getting louder until it was the only sound he could hear. 

"What?"

"I don't repeat myself," they snarled, tentacles lashing behind them.

Cross shook himself out of his stupor, snarling at the monster, "I would never work for you."

Nightmare finally met his eye, the cyan iris shaking with an intense force. Cross shifted against his chains, "Oh? You wouldn't? Hm.. How unfortunate. I must inquire about your cause for concern. As far as I'm aware this is our first meeting."

"I know what you've done," he breathed," You're evil."

Nightmare scoffed and the tentacle spread further across his leg until it was covered entirely. Every attempt to kick away the tendril was futile. His leg would not move, as though it was surrounded in concrete, "What makes a monster evil? I've done nothing that you yourself have not done. What makes us so different?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he raised his head to focus his eye lights on Nightmare to show that he was not scared. The monster only laughed.

"You don't?" they grinned, a wicked display of faux excitement, "Perhaps you need a reminder."

In an instance the remaining tentacles lashed at him, wrapping around each delicate bone and dripping into his eye sockets. As soon as the burning liquid breached his skull it's temperature plummeted, colder than ice as it dripped down to his spine. His throat tightened around it. For a moment he feared his bones would shatter from the force of the tentacles, but his magic eased the pressure of the intrusion. A red glow illuminated his black vision. He blinked, a difficult task considering the pressure of the black goop.

The red light grew and soon it was clear he was somewhere new. He blinked again, this time without a struggle and examined his surroundings. Large greyish buildings, yellow and purple flowers flying alongside the gentle wind. It was home.

"Chara? Is this.. real?" he gasped, stepping further into the field.

In the far distance he could see monsters. They were tiny little dots, there were thousands of them and they were small but they were alive.

Chara didn't respond. He frowned and looked over his shoulder where the ghost would usually linger. He was met with his house. Blank walls and pristine interior. He had to crane his neck to look up at his brother. Papyrus' jaw was slightly hung open, shaking while he stared down at the mirror in front of him.

"..What?" he croaked out, raising a hand to cover the bottom half of his mouth.

Cross reached out to graze his brother's hand, "What's wrong, Paps?"

Black threads of string glided out from his brother's finger tips, gliding elegantly to Cross. Neither skeletons took notice of it.

"All these years..? Just changed. How could he do this to us, brother?" Papyrus chuckled humourlessly.

Cross smiled and held Papyrus' hand within his own, "Does it matter? This timeline has lasted longer than the rest of them, hasn't it? Maybe he's happy with this."

Papyrus clenched the fist still between Cross' hands. Dull eye lights stared down at him and his smile faltered, "There's no need to fix something if it isn't broken."

"How could you say that?" he ripped his hand away and fixed Cross with a frown, "He's lied to us. He's used us. You want us to just move past it like it never happened, hoping it won't again?"

"I didn't mean-"

A cry came from outside and they both flashed away with a gust of magic, flickering into a crowd of outrage.

Another flash- a million lights flashed above him. He felt like a spectator to his own life, he moved erratically but the movements weren't his own. His entire skull burned and he could see his own dust in the corner of his eye. He was confused but he knew one thing for certain.

He is going to die.

He holds on to Frisk, grip so tight he could feel his bones crack but he found he couldn't care. He saw himself raise his hand. His blood stained hand.

The hall was filled with dust. Small piles that replaced where his family had stood only seconds ago. They were all gone. His chest rose and fell and his teeth were parted. A soul, red and purple lay in his hand. The air was thick, each gasp for breath was coated in copper and dust.

This was his fault.

Everything was red. A colour he doesn't see often. Not amongst purple and yellow or black and white. The colour dripped out from the soul, from the walls and from his hands until everything was black. Something dripped from the ceiling, causing small waves in the goop. It slithered down from the walls and suddenly he was back in the small room with no door. His hands were tied and he was staring up at Nightmare.

"Ah, yes. You remember now, don't you?" they bent at their knees, sinking down to be at eye level with Cross. "You already have blood on your hands, my carrion. Why do you act so against it now?"

Cross swallowed the magic that came to the back of his throat and stuttered out, "That.. that was an accident. If I had a choice I never would have done that. I wont do it."

Nightmare scowled. A tentacle darted towards Cross' neck and wrapped around his bones, tightening around each bone to interrupt his body's flow of magic. "Pathetic. One would expect you to at least take honour in your actions. It's the only substantial thing you've done in your life, after all."

Cross struggled against the hold, tugging at the goop holding his hands together. His breathing stuttered and his wrists burned. This was his fault.

"I feel your fear. I feel your shame and I feel your anger. Don't you want to be worth something again, my carrion? What do you do now, follow around Dream like a lost puppy? You used to be in the royal guards. Don't you wish for that again?"

Cross gasped for air when the tentacle eased up on its pressure, "That.. that wasn't real."

"No," Nightmare said, "But it could be. You mustn't fight for me if it dissuades you. All you must do is tell me how to get to the Omega Timeline."

Nightmare looked into Cross. They saw him. It ignited something within him but..

He could die here. He could dust and the only one who'd realise is probably Swap. How had he managed to mess up his own life so badly? Nightmare's right. He used to feel like he was doing something but now he's just.. drifting.

He inwardly cursed himself for getting into this situation. He had to think. He had options, evidently. He could accept but he doesn't know how to get to the Omega Timeline. For a moment he considered making something up in hopes of buying himself enough time to somehow escape but he has no idea how he's supposed to get out from his cuffs.

Dying couldn't be so bad, right? He'd never died before, not that he could remember, so there's a chance he could come back. With Chara's soul stuck to his maybe he had a chance of coming back. 

There's always the option to let Chara take control and hope he doesn't fuck them up even worse. Would Nightmare really kill them? They're definitely capable, but they kidnapped him. That has to mean something. 

There was no way he was killing again. He could still see the piles of dust, the look in his brother's eyes and the smells in the hall. It was his fault and he would never do anything like it again.

Nightmare was powerful. They have destroyed universes, killed millions, has magic Cross couldn't even begin to comprehend. Chara was right. He's so fucked.

He tried to quiet his mind and prayed that he wasn't about to be dusted.

Cross spat at the guardian of negativity with as much force as he could muster, "Fuck you."

The tentacle relinquished its hold on his neck, causing him to slouch as much as his chains could allow him. A loud smack rang around the room and Cross' skull moved from the force of the hit. He could barely feel it.

His voice was shaky when he spoke, "My little sister could hit harder than you."

The look of outrage on Nightmare's face felt better than any praise would.

"You seem to believe you're worth more than you are," they sneered, "I trust you'll learn your place soon. If not then you should know this now-"

"My mutt is always hungry."

Chapter Text

In XTale everything was simpler. Chara had a plan and he knew it would work. He had the upper hand, a goal and the moral high ground. He could make a life where nothing would have to be ‘perfect’ and there would be no more overwrites.

Now it's all wrong. His universe is empty, he has no means to get to it, he's stuck sharing a body with Cross, a body he can't even control, oh and everyone he’s ever had a chance of loving is dead.

If everything had gone right he would be growing out of this stupid body, looking at flowers with Asriel and trying to set his brother up with Muffet.

If only Cross hadn't absorbed his soul. Then the guy would be dead and Chara would be able to fix everything. He'd even be fine with at least having control of the body, but apparently he was too ‘evil’ for Cross to trust.

Cross . He truly felt no rage stronger than the rage he did for Cross. The man who managed to mess up Chara's plan and destroy their universe in less than an hour and then had the nerve to act like he was the victim.

What Chara would do to get revenge… but for now he'd have to settle with reminding him of what he's done whenever he can.

"You do deserve this," he spoke, floating closer to the twitching skeleton, "Well, you actually deserve worse than this."

The skeleton's eyes were lidded, sleep blatantly tugging on his mind. Chara grinned, leaning closer to inspect the scarred vessel.

He doesn't know how long ago the other monsters left the box of a room, but when he woke up from his self induced nap they were gone, leaving only him and Cross. Alone together, as they always seemed to be.

Now, unlike only weeks before, there were no tears and screams and gloating. There was a far away stare, heavy breathing and a fake grin. It slid off Chara's face as soon as he realised Cross was paying him no attention. He was tired, that much was obvious. Obvious in the tired blinks, the breathing, the drooping eyes. Chara saw this for what it was.

An opportunity.

When Cross falls asleep a door opens. Now, it just needs a nudge. 

Back when Chara was a child, he had someone to guide him. Decades ago now, he would trod out of his bed, sleep in his eyes and blanket in his hand. His small feet would pad against the marble floors of his new parents' castle. He liked the cleanliness of his new life but sometimes he missed the soft skies above a field of flowers. It was harder to fall asleep when there was stuffy walls closing him in.

The walk to the Queen and Prince's room was small. They placed their rooms close by in case of emergency. The door opened with a creak.

His father was a very light sleeper.

"Go back to sleep, kid," his grumbly voice whispered.

"I can't," he whined, gripping at soft paws and dull claws.

His father grunted as he lifted him up by his armpits, swinging him to lay in the space between him and his wife. Chara giggled at the soft snores from his mother. His father smiled and whispered again, "Be quiet, kid. Your mother won't be getting a lot of sleep soon."

"'Cause of my new brother?" he whispered back, admittedly quite loud.

Deep chuckles shook the bed, "Yes, because of your new brother. Now close your eyes. I'll teach you a trick I learned back when I was little."

Cross' face was relaxed, likely unintentionally, but relaxed nonetheless. Chara squinted and recognised a small gap between rows of teeth. An unclenched jaw.

"Part your lips and breathe in and out through your mouth."

Chara frowned, unsure how to alter someone else's breathing. Although it seemed more like Cross was fending off sleep than the other way around. Maybe skipping a few steps would be fine.

"Close your lips and breathe in through your nose."

Chara lowered his voice and spoke, "Back home there was almost never a strong wind. A small breeze at most."

Cross' eye lights didn't stray from the ground but Chara continued, "It was nice. Do you remember? The fields. The white grass and the yellow flowers."

"Imagine a peaceful landscape. Or try to silence your thoughts."

Cross' eye lids slid shut and his body leaned forward. He wasn't asleep, not yet, but he would be soon.

"Rest well, my kid."

Halls are dark and long and dreary, my thoughts are lost and my mind is leery,

I know this hall and I know this path,
yet I trip and add to piles of scath

A light shines in and all else shifts,
another soul shines and an unbearable weight lifts

I know this light is an illusion,
water drips but i run to it,
desperate

You may be washed away by the sea,
but I will remain

أنت قلبي
والآن غادرت

Goodbye,

No one returns for a long time. Cross sits on the floor for what could be days and feels his magic shift and his stomach ache. If only he hadn't gotten his body used to such a consistent intake of food. Back home he could go for days without it, but now, only what couldn't be more than a week into being stuck in a room with no nourishment and he was hungry. He felt oddly ashamed when he realised what the hollowness in his gut was.

His eye sockets feel heavy as well, what he can only assume is his body trying to get energy from another source and failing desperately because Cross is afraid unnerved by the prospect of having to sleep where Nightmare can easily access him. Which is so easy. He was practically already dead and dusting, waiting beside the plot of land that he would be buried in.

It took him a while to realise it, but he had lost feeling in his hands a long while ago, and for a moment he had been worried they were cut off and he hadn't noticed.

His head dropped to the side lazily, eyes settling in on the wall until it looked more like tiny dots than stone. There was nothing to distract him from his own thoughts, except Chara, of course, but he was making a point of not speaking to him for whatever reason. 

Thinking back to what he would do to distract him from himself was pointless, no matter how much he tried to pull memories from his mind, nothing came forward except images of Ink.

What he wouldn't do to see them again. Cross was such an idiot, ignoring their attempts to be friends after he lost every ally he once had? Ink was powerful, so powerful. If Cross had gotten closer to them he probably would've been out of the stone room days ago. Weeks ago, maybe.

Colours floated in front of him, beautiful and entirely new. Greens and browns and blues, dark and bright. Right in front of him. They danced across the walls, telling a story but speaking no words. He blinked and they were gone. 

He wondered what happened to all the monsters he didn't kill. Did they see their world get reset right before they glitched away like they were never real in the first place. Was any of it real? Is he real?

XGaster created him, just like he created everyone else except Chara and Frisk. Were they the only real ones? 

The bones that made up his body were filled with bone marrow and magic, that much he knew, but something in him itched to check again. He had to look again, to make sure he was real. His hand slid free from behind his back, forming purple flesh and nails. 

He didn't wince or grind his teeth when they dug into bone, focusing on pushing the nails in deeper until he could see inside. The bones parted under the force of his hands with a final push, letting him dig his fingers further in. He pulled each side of the bone away from the other, far enough apart he could see in.

His stomach swirled and his throat felt full. Cotton.

It was red and stained with blood and magic but there was cotton. Something dripped from his mouth and he ignored it, ripping out the cotton from his arm. It was warm and heavy, leaving his bones to flop weightlessly as the cotton surrounded him.

“Someone's out of it.”

Cross looked up to see Killer standing in front of him. The floor was clean and his hands were tied behind him, "..What?"

"Scared yet?" he laughed, sitting down in front of him and sliding a knife out from his sleeve. He spun it in between his fingers and jammed it into the ground beside Cross' leg. 

Cross held back a flinch, "Of you? I can't think of anything less intimidating."

"There's always you," he responded and yanked the knife out of its crack in the ground to lazily point it in his direction with a sleazy grin, "There's nothing quite as funny as when you pretend to know what you're doing."  

Cross scoffed, holding his head up despite the magic flowing around his skull when he moved, "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're pathetic," Killer said. He barked a laugh and leaned back, tilting his head to look at Cross through squinted eyes, "But you're right. Who are you?"

"Who am I?" he huffed, accidently tugging on his chains, "You already know my name."

"I didn't ask for your name, I asked who you are," replied Killer curtly, "There's a difference."

"Is there? I'm sorry I'm a bit distracted by being kidnapped to recognise it," he spat, accidently slurring his words.

"As long as you're sorry," Killer shrugged, sliding to his feet just to pace back and forth restlessly. Cross glared at him and tried to follow him his movements but quickly gave up with a silent groan.

"I'll go first if it'll make you feel better," he suggested, facing him with a wink, "I show you mine you show me yours kinda thing."

Cross felt his face flush and if he had slightly more energy he would've probably made a fool of himself by doing something stupid like spluttering out a retort that would inevitably fall flat.

"Hm let's see," Killer made a sound of consideration and spoke, "I'm just your average skeleton. I walk, I talk, I eat. I feel everything and nothing and sometimes I crack a grin. Now you know."

"That makes no sense," Cross complained, "Can't you give a normal answer?"

"Sure I can," he grinned and raised his knife to tap his chin in consideration, "My name's Killer, I had two cats and I work for Nightmare. That normal enough for you?"

"You like cats?"

"I don't remember saying that," Killer said, slipping back onto the ground.

"So you have two cats but you don't like them?'"

"Sure."

"So why do you keep them?" he asked, exasperated.

Cross never really liked cats, they smelled awful and were slightly intimidating. He quickly remembered himself before he became too lost in thought. He was in danger, he repeated in his mind. This conversation was likely to get him to lower his guard. His shoulders were raised again in an instant.

"Hm. I never thought about that," Killer said, and for a moment his soul shifted, wiggling in front of him.

Cross figured it was his mind playing tricks on him again. He went to respond but Killer cut in before he could get a word out, "It's your turn. Tell me, who are you, Cross?"

"I never agreed to tell you anything," he grumbled.

Killer pouted, his eye sockets becoming smaller as he did so. It was a weird sight to see but Cross found he couldn't bring himself to look away. "That's cheating."

"Hardly. The only thing I learned was about cats," his voice was flat and tired, a direct comparison to Killer's enthusiasm.

"You're no fun," Killer crossed his arms with a moan, "I try to have a civil conversation with you and what do I get? Attitude. Honestly, who taught you manners?"

"I'm not stupid," Cross seethed, leaning further closer, intentionally or not is to be debated, "I know why you're 'being civil'  and I won't fall for it."

"You do?" the blurred skeleton's demeanor shifted in an instant and he purred, seemingly entertained by Cross' conflict, "And what do you think?"

"You're trying to get my guard down. I know your game, asshole."

Killer scoffed, then, after a moment of stilted silence, broke into a round of giggles. Cross shifted, startling awake at the sound. Killer's entire body shook with the force of his laughter, more extreme as the seconds passed by. The cackle dwindled after what may have been minutes, leaving the two of them to stare at each other in the aftermath.

"..What were we talking about?" Killer asked, voice light and airy.

Cross glared at him, attempting to kick them but falling flat by at least four foot. He shut his eyes and pretended he was somewhere else as Killer began to mindlessly drone on about something.

If he ignored the grating voice of one of his kidnappers he could imagine he was home, surrounded by friends and sane persons. His head banged and his stomach swirled, bones clenching around nothing but air where magic would normally be. He really regrets eating all the food Swap had offered him, even if it did feel amazing at the time. And oh wow did it feel amazing.

Back home he ate an occasional meal with his family, something he liked to arrange whenever his father started to seem a bit too distant and Papyrus far too spiteful. It made him feel like they were closer. Looking back, it probably caused a greater divide between them all, with Alphys staring at the table with a far away look in her eyes, one she always adorned when their father was near, and Papyrus taking risky jabs at the man sitting at the head of table; the man who sometimes responded with sharp words but more often chose to stare at Papyrus with disinterest until he stopped talking.

Cross wished he was there, that he could see his siblings again, even if they were never that close, they were better than nothing.

Better than staring at a wall and hoping he'd somehow get out. Better than praying that he doesn't die, but if he does that it isn't painful. Anything would be better than nothing.

In the Omega Timeline he didn't do much. He tried to make sense of his life and he avoided interacting people that looked far too interesting, yet he still ate more than he did at home. The food there wasn't bland like at home. It was nice and it filled him with energy and he craved it so badly.

"Too good to listen, eh? You could miss something important you know."

"I doubt you could say anything of importance. All you've talked about is cats," Cross shuffled into his scarf, attempting to ease off the persistent cold that had started to loom over him ever since Nightmare left him.. days ago? He wasn't sure how long it had been.

"You mention something once," Killer rolled his head in a way that made it seem as if he was rolling his eyes, "And if you had cared to listen you'd know about what your little friends are doing out there."

"Ha! As if I'd believe any drivel you try to sell me."

Killer shrugged, "If you don't believe me it's your own problem, just thought you should know about how a couple of them are taking a little break."

Cross rose a brow, "'A couple?' Just how many monsters do you think I care about?"

"You don't sound very concerned about the break thing," Killer observed.

"Well I've been here for who knows how long, I didn't exactly think someone was about to bust down the door at any second," he responded sarcastically, trying again to kick at Killer.

Unexpectedly, Killer's grin fell into a scowl, and his voice was still, "Why would they? It's not like you're anything worth looking for."

Cross frowned and looked away, the room becoming blurry despite the minute movement. He was tired and Chara hadn't spoken in what could be hours and Cross was starting to doubt he was real in the first place. 

He looked back up at Killer, and he was talking but Cross found he couldn't process anything he was saying.

What's happening to him?

The next time Killer staggered into the room his bones were tilted at odd angles and he had specks of black covering his face. He sat down across from Cross and said nothing.

Cross pulled his legs closer to his chest, creating room between them in case he tried anything funny. Admittedly it didn't do much, but it made him feel safer in the short term.

"What do you want now?" he croaked, voice rough from disuse.

It took Killer a moment to answer. His soul was quivering again, only this time Cross was lucid enough to notice it, but lacked the energy to regard it with more than a single thought.

"What was your universe like?"

Cross growled, already tired of this act, "I'm not telling you anything."

Killer didn't laugh or scowl or shout. His grin remained unshaken.

"I can't really remember much of mine. It was super corrupted. Everything was weird but then Chara.." he trailed off, trying to figure out what to say next, "Chara was trying to fix it when Nightmare showed up. I've been working for them ever since."

".. Okay?" Cross replied, confusion evident on his face, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Just some advice," the skeleton soul wavered, taking the form of an upside down heart, "Don't be an idiot."

"That's your advice? I don't think you have much ground to stand on, you're the one working for the egotistical psychopath."

"I mean it, Cross."

"Hm."

...

"Why don't you run away?"

Killer doesn't look affected by the question, "Why would I?"

"You're fine with killing yourself for that guy? I doubt you're immortal; you're probably gonna waste your death on them," Cross closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. It never became comfortable.

"That's an interesting thought."

Cross eyes slid open and he was alone. The corner of his eyes were damp with magic. He scolded himself for falling asleep. 

Was that a dream? If it wasn't it's not like he could go look for Killer to resume the conversation.

He settled his gaze back to the corner of the room and stared until the colours reappeared.

Chapter Text

Cross remembers how comfortable his bed was. It was too big for him, a size his father thought he would grow into but never did and as a result he had far too much space to sprawl across his mattress. Of course, he rarely spent any more time than necessary indulging in such a lazy activity, even when he was sick, he had more important things to do than waste even a minute extra in bed.

He was kind of starting to regret his strict routine. If he was ever in his warm bed again he would never leave, of that he was sure. It wasn’t an uncomfortable heat, it was like being held in a hug by someone he loved. It didn’t make his mouth feel dry and magic he couldn’t afford to lose drip from his bones in an attempt to cool his body. It was a comfort he hadn’t felt in months.

His neck ached no matter where he moved his head, when he had the energy to do so. That never used to happen. He wondered if he was broken. Dream’s aura seemed to have no effect on him in the Omega Timeline and Nightmare’s has none now. Any negative emotions he had felt before were numb. His mind felt empty, his body nothing but a device to hold up his eyes. A film that never ends playing in front of him.

He was beginning to miss when tears would fall from his eye sockets, at least then he knew he could feel. But did any of that really happen or were they just memories he was created to have? Everything he remembers had a chance of not being real. An imitation of life, just like him. Maybe if he put in more effort he would be back at home in his bed. Maybe he’d have a pet and a partner and someone to care about. Maybe his brother would be back.

But as it is he’s far too tired to think. He sat and stared at the wall. He faded in and out of consciousness but it made no difference if he was awake or asleep. If he had any hope he would be saved it would have been gone but he wasn’t an idiot so he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised that he was still alone.

Sometimes he woke up with injuries he couldn’t remember receiving. Burns on every bone, bone marrow dripping onto the ground. His leg was stained a colour he had never seen before. He worried it would never be healed upon his escape but he quickly came to his senses. He had nothing to worry about. Nothing to live for except his own hunger for happiness.

“We need to save our home,” Chara would remind him. 

Cross never responded. His words wouldn’t be his own. Maybe they never were.

Every action he made was planned. Just a cog in a machine.

Nothing he had ever done was his own. He had thought it was his idea to join the Royal Guards, he was certain of it. He remembers how scared he had been while he asked his father, but firm in his decision to do so. Was that just something XGaster had planned?

Was that why he fought against his friends? Why he killed his brother?

“I don’t know why I was surprised,” a warped image of his brother spoke, “I’ve yet to see any semblance of free thought from you. You’re just obeying their orders, are you not? They told you not to say where it is.”

Another drop of tar fell onto his arm, seeping into the bones with ease. It bubbled up underneath, popping and releasing an explosion of black liquid inside of him. His body shook and a breath crept out from his teeth, far too tired to scream. It was like he was set on fire from the inside, black sinking into his bones until it started to leak out from where it entered.

He could see the hot air in front of him. There was frost in the corners of the room, the stone floor having become damp and cold who knows how long ago. Magic still slid down his skull, no matter how low the temperature of the room he still seemed to be overheating.

“Make it up to me. Tell me where it is, brother.”

“I.. don’t know,” he forced out in between desperate gasps for air.

A tentacle flew into his chest, pushing him further into the wall, "I'm done with your lies," his brother hissed, "It seems you're in need of another reminder."

The room seemed to grow darker and darker as his brother grew closer, the stone walls hiding from his view. A sour taste spread across his mouth, which was unusual because he couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything.

In the distance, he could hear the drip of his bone marrow falling to the floor like it was echoing around the walls, the scent of something rancid invading his senses.

It doesn’t matter, he reminded himself. It will be over soon. It will be over soon.

◈The thought that you will escape fills you with determination

When he glanced up, he didn’t see an imitation of his brother. He looked up and saw Killer, face stretched into a grin that looked too big to be natural. He was laughing, Cross realised. His head drooped to the side, and his body throbbed with pain he was too tired to process, and Killer was laughing. It only got louder until it felt like he was inside Cross’ head.

“You know much about hackers?”

Cross had long resumed his vow of silence when faced with Killer. He was too tired to move, least of all talk, even if he was on good terms with KIller, which he wasn’t. Every time he could get his eyes to focus on the other monster's distorted form, he was reminded of an image ingrained in his mind. The sharp grin above him, the pointed end of Killer’s knife raised into the air. As such he had no interest in indulging him in his attempts at conversion.

Killer must have taken his silence as a prompt for him to expand as he didn't leave like Cross had hoped he would, “Just askin’ cause I figured you had to have spoken to a lot of different people considering how big the Omega Timeline is.”

Cross’ eyes drilled into Killer’s skull, unwavering in intensity. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the dull red glow of his soul, squirming and wiggling like a bug in a web.

Killer didn't laugh like he normally would, the grin he was all too familiar with was nowhere to be seen, “You know Ink? I figure you do. You were hanging around Dream and we think they're pretty buddy-buddy.”

Killer didn’t seem bothered by his silence, like he was expecting it. Cross supposed that made sense; it wasn't like he had been doing much talking before. Still, he didnt think Killer would ask about Ink. As far as he could remember he hadn't mentioned them before. He inwardly scolds himself for not being prepared for anything. He was too drowsy, out of it while his body adapted to the new conditions. Although he had never been kidnapped before, he was indeed trained to handle these kinds of situations in the Royal Guards. Training was taxing but he was internally grateful for it while tied in scalding handcuffs. He had handled worse before and he knew that soon his body would be strong enough for him to move again, to think again. Then he can find a way to escape.

“You think they have the same kind of power Error has? Access to code, I mean,” he lowered his voice when stumbling upon Error’s name.

Cross attempted to look away, only for his head to tilt at an awkward angle. His teeth quivered into a shaky smile. He looked at Killer while he forced out, “I have no idea who Error is.”

Immediately Killer stood on edge, raised his shoulders and spat, “Don't say that so loud.”

Cross blinked tiredly, not understanding why the other was so concerned with a name, “You don't w’nt  Nightmare t’ know?”

“Among other things,” Killer mumbled, coming close enough for Cross to be able to kick him if he so pleased, “Do you know anything about hacking then?”

Cross stared at him. Killer’s face morphed into one of dread as the seconds dragged on. He threw his head into his hands and groaned, “I’m never getting out of here.”

They sat there for a while, one in restlessness, the other in consideration.

The next time Cross woke up his eyes didn’t drag. He could move again, even if he did wince at the aches all over him. His arm especially hurts, the one he remembers Killer stabbing. He had never gotten the chance to heal it with magic, having not eaten the food at Swap’s house and he doubted the magic inhibitors only blocked attacks.

It had been a while since Nightmare’s last visit, possibly because they had realised Cross really doesn't have the information they want. That would not be good for him. That could mean they would get rid of him soon. Before he realised he was beginning to panic his chest started to rise and fall at a quicker pace.  He didn't want to die in Nightmare’s hands, if he was even alive at all. Why did XGaster even create him in the first place? He wishes he could find out his purpose, even if he did resent Gaster for what he did, he still craves his influence, some kind of direction, a way to fend off his utter uselessness.

“We need to get our home back,” Chara urged.

Cross nodded. Chara may not be his creator but he knew more about Gaster than Cross likely ever would. His orders had reason and although Cross may not be the fondest of the human, a temporary alliance could work.

“You’re awake.”

Cross glares at Killer, impulsively attempting to send a bone attack in his direction. His magic of course fell short, sending the magic back to his core. His body shivered at the sensation, each speck of dust that lay on his bones suddenly seemed so much sharper than dust ever would.

Killer didn’t laugh. His soul wasn't wobbling any more, but it didn't look like it normally would. Cross’ teeth formed a straight line in an attempt to compose himself. He had not been entirely sure Killer’s soul wobbling was real, but it was clear that something was wrong with it now. It almost looked like a determined human soul. Like Chara’s.

Chara’s eyes were stuck to it, glimmering in the red light's reflection, “That would work..”

Cross gave the ghost a confused glance, eager for an explanation of some kind.

“Are you gonna speak this time?”

In an instant his eyes were back on Killer, a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. His body burned with energy, with anger. When he looked at Killer he could only see the hazy glimpse he got of him who knows how long ago. It was engraved in his mind. Killer was laughing. He was laughing while Cross was tortured. Cross saw red. He tugged on his cuffs in an attempt to jump forward, to attack, rage clouding his vision. Killer didn't even flinch.

“Why aren't you smiling?” Cross seethed, “It's only funny when you aren't in danger, huh? Go on. Laugh.”

He pulled harder on his cuffs. He could escape. He could get out. He could take Killer, he could rip his head off.

He could hear the wall crack under the force of Cross’ pull, the cuffs stretching further. He could break them. Cross knew he could break them. His hands had gone numb a long time ago but he could still pull his arms away. His breaths came out rugged and desperate. He tugged again and-

POP

His vision went white. The only thing he could hear was his own shrill screams. He blinked until the white cover shifted into dots that danced around in front of him. His scream died down, turning just to obnoxiously loud gasps. The dots were replaced by magic building up in the corner of his eyes. Purple tears dripped down his face onto the stone floor.

A cold hand brushed away the magic from under his eyes, Killer now crouching down in front of him. With nothing to blur his vision any more, Cross scowled at the other skeleton, trying his best to lean away from him despite the discomfort of his arm at being jostled.

“Don't be like that,” Killer muttered. The black tears dripped from his eye sockets like a waterfall. It was disturbing to see. Unnatural. “I’m not here to fight.”

“Then leave,” Cross barked airily. 

“I wanna give you a deal,” Killer finally said, “I think we could both get something out of it.”

Cross’ mind felt fuzzy, getting more intense with each drowsy blink. He wasn't moving yet his body seemed to be swaying from side to side. His arm twitched every few seconds and he could feel his magic dripping down to the palm of his hand. It grew cold quickly, a nice, though itchy sensation compared to the burning he had yet to become used to.

“We know you don't want to die here. I don't either,” Killer continued, relaxing against the stone wall until he looked to be slouching, “So I think we could help each other.”

“Why would I help you?” Cross cut in, raising his head to glare down at Killer, “How can I know this isn't a trick?”

It was very possible it could be, Cross reasoned. It could be an attempt to butter up to him, a last ditch effort to receive the information Nightmare swore he had. That wouldn't work, of course, because Cross doesn't know anything but that's still no reason to let his guard down.

“I couldn't care less if you think it’s a trick, you crazy freak. You’ll see when we’re out of here,” Killer huffed and leaned forward slightly as his head dropped to face the ground. His movements were jerky and sudden. Unpredictable but held intent.

Cross couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his throat, “You insulting me really hammers in how trustworthy you are.”

“Just-” Killer cut himself off with a groan, “You’ve moved from universe to universe before, right? It's how you get to Underswap. So if those inhibitors were off you’d be able to move to a different universe?”

With a quick, silent gasp for air Cross shook his fears to the side. He needed to be strong now that he had the energy for it. He needed to be brave. “I’m not telling you anything.”

But Killer wasn't half wrong and that worried him. He hadn't realised he was watching him so closely, if at all, more under the impression he was fighting him as mindlessly as he had looked at the time. Killer had seemed thoughtless, instinct driven and it was unnerving to know there was more going on underneath that. He felt a chill go up his spine at the thought of those empty eye sockets examining him so closely. Albiet not close enough to realise that it was the weird machine Swap had given him that helped him hop universes but still close.

“Listen, I don’t care about you. Stop being a self obsessed idiot and tell me what I want to know,” Killer snarled, face tightening into a look Cross hadn't seen from him until then. Although now that he thought of it, Killer was acting unusually. He was displaying more emotion than ever before, not laughing soullessly or full of empty smiles. He was scowling and he meant it.

“Choke and die.”

Killer made a sound of frustration and in a flash of light stabbed the wall beside Cross’ head. Cross remained unflinching, sending a judgemental look to the other skeletons' outburst. Killer schooled his expression, rose from the ground, pulled his knife from the wall and scuttled out of the room. He disappeared around a corner without another word said between them.

Cross stared at the area beyond the room, revelling in his small victory. 

“What if he wasn’t lying.”

Cross glanced towards Chara, the ghost’s form less solid than usual. “He was.”

“You don’t know that.”

Except Cross did. Killer wasn’t his friend. He kidnapped him, he wasn't just going to let him go, no matter how sympathetic he tried to appear. 

“Somethings clearly wrong with him. More than a few screws loose. Maybe we could take advantage of that.”

Cross tilted his head to the side, “How so?”

“ Well he seemed pretty desperate, didn’t he? If he’s gonna act so pathetic the least we could do is take pity on the guy,” Chara suggested, hovering further into Cross’ line of sight

Cross raised a hand to stop Chara before he bothered to speak again, “He was pretending, playing along would just feed into his plan.”

Chara’s face fell and he drawled, “That’s not what I mean. You need to think of the bigger picture. We pretend to help him and he gets the cuffs off us. If we get more energy we could overpower him and take his soul. While he’s weak we summon Ink and get out of here. Easy peasy.”

Cross considered the plan, “What if we can’t beat him?”

“If you can’t beat him while he’s missing half a soul then maybe the royal guards was never for you,” he responded, “But if you’re so worried about it, we can just bring it back up the next time he shows up looking all weak and tired. He looks like that after he takes a longer break in between visits. Probably off on a mission or something.”

Cross felt something burn in his chest. Magic still dripped from his bones, audible even past his uneven breathing. He could die. He could get out. His vision wavered, tears building up in his eye sockets. He allowed himself a small smile, “Sounds like a plan.”

Visiting the anti-void will never be a pleasant experience. As soon as one steps into the vast space they’re little more than an insect that flew into the spider's web. It's quiet. Moving around would quickly become a challenge with strings hanging from far above, the souls that still held a faint glow visibly pulling as far as possible from the strings wrapped tightly around them delivering the final nail in the coffin.  If one does not feel doomed upon stepping into the anti-void they’re already dead.

Everything about the area between universes is wrong. There’s no ground, no sky. There’s no light, and as such, no reflections. It's easy to see how one could lose their mind when trapped in the strings. They had the consistency of barbed wire. They dug into flesh and bone in seconds, sharper than any knife could be. They were inescapable.

But to Nightmare they were little more than an inconvenience. Nothing more than a few thorns in his path. They slithered around the maze of strings with the utmost precision, having reeled in as much of their body’s mass as they could to make their physical form excessively small.

“How stupid can you be?” a glitched, deep voice spoke from everywhere around them. 

Nightmare halted their movements, building back up their body to stand tall, “I’m not here because of misplaced bravery. I see you for what you are and it would be foolish for me to doubt your abilities. I’m here because I’m seeking… a favour.”

“Psh, a favour? What do you think I am, a charity? Leave before I stop thinking this is funny,” the destroyer spat, voice getting louder as he moved closer to Nightmare.

“Don’t think this is an attempt to take advantage. I have something to offer you in return for your assistance. It’s only right for you to be rewarded for your good deeds,” Nightmare responded smoothly. There were many rumours of the destroyer's behaviour. Tales and make believe but if there was one thing to know about him it was his delusional nature. If he gets even a fraction of a hint that he’s being manipulated he will react . It’s for that reason alone that Nightmare kept their composure. 

Their tentacles twitched in agitation despite their attempts to keep cool. There’s nothing they hate more than a self obsessed brat.

Error dropped down from above them, hanging elegantly from his strings. His red eye sockets were unblinking, a small white dot shivering in one eye while the other displayed blue black and yellow circles. Exactly as the tales had described him. “You think you have something that would interest me?”

“I’m certain of it. I wish for you to delete a parasite that infects my disciple and in return I will deliver you the location of the omega timeline,” they speak with utmost confidence, not looking away from the destroyer's eyes for even a second.

Their offer lays in the air for a few stilted moments until it's interrupted by archaic laughter. The destroyer fell back on his strings, what looked like tears dripped from his eye sockets as the laughter dragged on. It was disgustingly familiar.

Nightmare felt their face fall into a scowl. 

“How up your own ass are you? Saying things like disciple, speaking like you know me? You have some gall,” he slandered and leaned closer, “I don’t care about the omega timeline. You’re stupid if you think I would.”

“The stupid one is not me. I have followers. I have a plan and I have influence. What do you have? An empty room and a job you don’t even do? I should have known better than to ask someone so useless for assistance. I doubt you’d even be capable of such a simple task,” Nightmare said. They were aware they were behaving foolishly in a last ditch effort to get their way. They only hoped the destroyer wouldn’t delete them as soon as they finished speaking.

The smile fell off Error's face, “I don't think you’re funny. If you think it’s such a simple task I’m sure you can do it yourself. Next time you’re stupid enough to talk to me I won’t give you a second to explain yourself.”

A square portal opened and blue strings pulled Nightmare into it. It closed behind them. They examined their surroundings and made a sound of frustration while composing themself. Okay. New plan.

“Yo yo yo my broski! I was just hangin’ with my bro when I caught wind of a radical dude such as yourself on the look for some help,” a colourful skeleton poofed into existence beside him and immediately began blabbering.

“Why are you speaking at me?”

The skeleton didn't seem deterred, continuing with their display, “Just so happens I can lend a hand in the whole eradication of a human soul deal, ya dig?”

“Were you watching me?” Nightmare spat in disgust, stepping away from the creature.

“Sure was my dude! So we deal or no? I ain't got all day, you know!”

Nightmare looked over the too tall skeleton. They were obviously more of a threat than they presented themself if they figured they could watch them and live. They likely had an ulterior motive. “What do you wish for in return?”

The skeleton raised their hands in front of them and skidded back on the wheels of their shoes, “Nothing too serious, my guy. Just an eensy weensy favour.”

“A favour,” Nightmare responded flatly, “And how am I to know you have the means to get rid of this human."

The skeleton tilted their head forward and as a result their sunglasses fell further down their face. A revolting creature wiggled in their eye socket, “I ain't a liar. I do this for you, you do something for me down the line. Simple.”

“I accept these terms,” Nightmare nodded, “I need this to happen within the week. I have plans that rely on it.”

“No sweat, my man. I’ll have it done by tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Swap was strong. He had no muscles but if he did Cross was sure they’d be impressive. He gave a smile to everybody, even if they were undeserving and everything just seemed so perfect about him. He was everything Cross hoped to be.

“Myehehe!”

Cross’ eyes snapped open at the voice, and before him towered Swap himself. He tried his best to sit up, expecting the pull of the cuffs only to fall forward with nothing tying him to the wall. He glanced back and his wrists were bare. He pushed himself up with his unshaking, clean arms and stood across from Swap. “You came for me.”

“Of course I did,” Swap smiled his perfect smile and laid a hand on Cross’ shoulder, “You’re worth saving.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Chara wondered, tapping the dazed skeleton’s skull using Killer’s body.

Cross’ eyes were distant, clouded but when Killer’s body moved the eye lights moved to follow them. He wasn’t responding to any taunts or questions. 

“Maybe he’s too far gone,” Killer suggested from far back in their mind.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Chara responded, sharp because they didn’t like the possibility and not because it was illogical. They felt something rise in their throat and swallowed before their thoughts became too distracting. Soon soon soon. Soon they’d be away from Nightmare. Soon they’d have their own body again and soon they’d be living on a remote island with plenty of fruit and no people.

Chara stepped away from the front of their mind, dreaming of quiet and mobility and a nice breeze. Killer’s eye sockets became heavy in seconds, the thought of rest unbearably tempting with each blink that passed by. Chara forced their eyes open after they spent a second too long shut but staggered back to where there should have been a wall at the sight before them.

Instead of the claustrophobic stone room they stood in a room with red stained walls. Loud electronic music played in the distance and Chara had their own body. They glanced down to the ground, shocked by the sudden height they had gained and stumbling slightly when they walked. The air smelt faintly of smoke and small particles of ash flew past them consistently. Consistently enough that there may be a fire nearby.

“Yo my dude! Welcome to my super radical party, yo!” called out a rambunctious voice from behind them. Chara snapped around to see a hill that definitely wasn’t there before. It was made of speakers and at the top of the mountain lounged the tallest skeleton Chara had ever seen. They were wearing sunglasses and engraved in the lenses was the word “FUNK.”

“Where am I? Who are you?” Chara shouted up at them, demanding answers.

“Not so fast, my guy,” the skeleton wagged their finger and the glasses’ engraving flickered to say “FAST”. They pulled a neon skateboard out from beneath the speakers and jumped to ride it down to Chara in seconds, “You gotta chill before you grill.”

“What does that mean?” Chara sputtered. 

“Just that a little birdy told me a totally un-rad tale about someone in this room and I gotta say, I think I’m ruled out on this one,” the skeleton leaned back and crossed their arms while shaking their head disappointedly. “You know anything about that, little dude?”

“My name is Chara,” they spat, internally judging what the skeleton was wearing, “Did I go back in time or something?”

The skeleton ‘tsked’ disapprovingly, “You’re avoiding the question, little dude.”

Chara’s eye twitched at the grating accordion. It wasn’t even playing from the massive pile of speakers, “What the f0rk is this music? Where’s it even coming from?” They did a double take, mumbling, "Fork..?" under their breath.

The skeleton’s demeanor straightened and they stood at full height, their body casted in a neon green hue. They hung limply above Chara and looked down at them. “Don’t disrespect BOUNCE FUNK, dude. Just for that you’re getting BOUNCE FUNK - mega slowed.”

With a click of their fingers the song switched to a slowed down version, somehow even louder than the last. The staticky sound grinded on Chara’s ears. “Ugh!” they exclaimed, covering their ears with their hands, “Just tell me what’s happening!”

“Nah, man! How are you supposed to learn your lesson if I spell it out for you?” 

Without waiting for another interruption the skeleton jumps forward, grabbing Chara and dragging them to another area in what seemed like seconds. Chara’s head spun at the quickness and they wobbled as they tried to steady themself.

“Time for your first challenge! This one’ll be totally tubular my mans so hold onto your socks!” they cheer, their legs temporarily extending so they can leap back to the top of their speaker mountain, “You ready for the rundown?”

“Wh-”

“Awesomesauce!” They shouted and pulled a megaphone out from their pocket, “This game is so super easy you’d have to be next level silly to fail.” A bright red arrow appeared in the corner of Chara’s eyes which pointed to a wooden crate filled with grey lumps, so clumped together it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. The crate stretched on for a few feet but was relatively shallow looking.

“Let me introduce you to the Meatinator 9000!” A few more multicoloured arrows poofed into existence around the crate. Chara rolled their eyes at the showy-ness of it all. “This baby contains the organs of every single human you have ever killed, delicately covered in the dust of the monsters; let’s give a round of applause for our wonderful chefs, eh?”

Claps echoed around the wall of the dimly lit room. Chara looked down at the crate and scoffed, “Is this supposed to make me feel bad? They’re not even real.”

“Chill out Rowdy-Ryan! You haven’t even heard the rules yet,” the skeleton chuckled, “You have four minutes to search through the Meatinator 9000 for the key to the next room and if you find it you get to peel outta here!”

“I’m not playing this game,” Chara deadpanned, “Either you get me to a tropical island or you get added to the crate. Your choice.”
The skeleton considered Chara’s words for a few moments, tapping a long finger against their sharp chin. They parted their teeth and a different voice came out, “-you listen to me. I’m the one that saved you.”

Their head slanted to meet Chara’s eyes and they grinned, “That was you, right? You said that alllll the time.”

“So this is about Killer?” Chara asked, their tone disbelieving, “They agreed to work with me. I don’t deserve my time being wasted because of something they did.”

The skeleton shrugged, “Sure, I mean. By that logic this is you playing the game.” They snapped their fingers and Chara’s legs moved. They fought against the pull but their body started itching towards the crate no matter how hard they tried to resist. They couldn’t move their arms or their mouth. They were trapped.

Their body shook with the force of their attempts to get away, but the skeletons magic was stronger and within a few seconds they stood in front of the crate.

"Is contestant number one ready?" the skeletons voice loomed, "Then go!"

With no hesitation their hands plunged into the crate, and instantly the sound became grating. The organs rubbed against each other with clicks every second their hands spent rummaging around the sides of the box. Chara's body jolted as a loose piece of wood jammed deep into their finger. The wood only went in further, either the skeleton couldn't feel the pain of it or just didn’t care, and they pushed forward.

The dust clung to their fingers, building up around them in clumps that slowed down their hands significantly. It made them feel the pressure of the organs all the more and Chara couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck was happening. They felt like they were dreaming such a bizarre scenario, probably a result of how delirious Killer was getting. They should have realised that would affect them too. The solution calmed them down. It may feel like it was real but it wasn’t.

Even though dust kept getting pushed into the cut on their finger and the music blared into their ears until something fluttered in their brain it wasn’t actually happening. There was a smell of rotten meat and human faeces in the air and it clogged up the back of their throat until they felt like gagging. But they couldn’t of course, because the skeleton didn’t allow it. A timer ticked down and got louder and louder and soon it was louder than the music. Red lights started to blare down at them with each tick. Chara’s fingers clasped around something metal just as the lights stayed red and the timer screamed.

“In the nick of time, little man!” the skeleton exclaimed, “Those were some bodacious skills. That challenge was super gnarly!”

With each word that the skeleton spoke Chara regained control of their body. Vomit climbed up their throat and into the box. They could barely smell it over all the other ... interesting scents. They groaned, leaning on the edge of the box and spoke into it, “That- was not four minutes.”

“Did I say four minutes? I meant one, sorry,” they shrugged, tipping their childish hat in Chara’s direction. They didn’t seem very apologetic.

Chara gawked at them. This was the weirdest nightmare they’d ever had.

Across the room a golden door slammed down from the ceiling, landing on the floor with a loud slam and a few bounces. A shiver went up Chara’s spine while they stared at the exit. Would they wake up if they walked through? Or would they be in the middle of nowhere? Their head swam with questions but one thing was for certain, they could not think over this music. They glanced towards the skeleton, uncertain but after a nod from them they inched closer. Rubbing one of their stained hands over the cold golden door knob, something refreshing after the heat of the organs in the box. The door creaked open with little force.

At first it seemed to be a dark room and they were hesitant to go further in. A hand slammed against their back, making them stumble before they caught themself against the wall. The skeleton skated around them, hands in their pockets and the most improper form you could imagine. Their knees were not even bent. They flicked a light switch and a beach themed room was revealed. In the corner there was a small pond that carried what looked like shark shaped speakers. Chara’s face fell when the skeleton squatted down beside them and turned on reggae music.

“I thought you said that was the exit.”

The skeleton’s glasses flickered to say, “DUMB” and they laughed, “Nah, man. You aren’t even close to the end. But you are in for a beachin’ good time with this next challenge,” they skated closer to Chara while still squatting and came up to eye level with them, “Lets hope you aren’t scared of some radical heights.”

They flicked Chara’s head with a laugh and their stomach dropped when they were made to look at the rest of the room that definitely wasn’t there before. It went on for miles, structures that varied in height and distance that all lead to a podium at the very end of the wall. Chara felt their legs ache looking at it.

“You a big jumper?”

Dream sighed, “Don’t you think this has gone on too long? Are you sure I haven’t missed anything?”

Core giggled from their spot on the floor, “Don’t be such a Debbie Downer. I already told you I’ll let you know if something big happens.”

Dream worried their hands together and shuffled their knees underneath them, “I know.. I just don’t feel good about staying in one universe for so long. Is my positivity really not affecting anyone else?”

“Nope,” Core replied shortly. They sat up and faced them, their giddy smile slipped into something more sincere and they said, “I’m not doing this for no reason. You staying out of the picture for a while will lead to an event that will make everyone so much safer. It’ll just take a bit of time.”

“...If you’re sure,” Dream frowned.

Chara panted, resting their body against a wall. This nightmare had gone on for far too long to be normal. They had no idea how many “challenges” they had completed but they were done playing along.

“You tired yet, little man?” the skeleton jeered, crossing their arms and oddly enough their legs, “We’ve barely gotten started!”

They took in a haggard breath and braced themself. They were going to wake up now. They slammed their head back against the wall. The force of the blow caused them to fall face first onto the floor. Their temples pulsed, their brain felt like it would burst at any second. It didn’t work.

“Gnarly, dude! You couldn’t pinch yourself or something?”

Chara couldn’t see their twitchy peeled fingers through their hazy eyes but they could feel it. They were beginning to rather they were amputated then have to deal with the pain for any longer. Distress built up in the back of their mind and they pushed themself up to bang their head another time. They fell flat against the floor again, only this time they couldn’t find the energy to open their eyes.

Soft pressure was put on their neck and back and their head span when they were positioned to be sitting up.

“Alright I’ve had my fun,” the skeleton sighed. Two fingers peeled open Chara’s eye. “Too bad, little man. Your bodies not lookin’ too hot right now but I guess I’ll just have to deal for a hot minute.”

A creature squirmed in the skeleton’s eye socket. It took a shape similar to a lotus flower, only the petals were four purple wiggly tendrils and the middle was a rotten eye. It leaped from the skeletons body and curled into Chara’s eye, latching onto it and making a new nest inside the human’s body.

The skeleton dropped to the ground and the human’s body rose. 

Killer stared into the flat water. Drops of red occasionally dropped into the dead grass beside it, staining the white strands a disgustingly dark colour. It was unnatural. 

Snowdin was empty, nothing but a town of dust now. The particles blended in with the snow. It was quiet. There were no orders, no observations, no complaints. It was different. Killer didn’t know how to feel about the silence. He stared into the flat water and saw his face. It was blank. A cold black liquid swam down from his wide eye sockets, falling into the water and causing a small ripple. The black liquid didn’t fade away, it sank to the floor of the river until it was barely visible. It was unnatural.

Killer didn’t know how to feel because he didn’t feel anything at all. He moved his teeth a fraction and the image in the water changed. The skeleton in the water looked disgusted by something. Killer tilted his head and moved his eye sockets and as a result the skeleton in the water’s expression changed. They appeared surprised. He slanted his teeth and they seemed happy. It looked natural.

The change from one emotion to the next was seamless. It all looked so real and it was so easy. Killer imagined no one would be able to see through it, it looked so believable. He smiled into his reflection with pride he could not feel. He knew what he was made to do.

A large glob of black fell from his face into the water and he turned away from the river. Nightmare should be back for him soon.

Killer slid into the room and Cross stood on alert. “Your soul’s different.”

Killer looked down, a shocked expression was painted on their face but when they spoke their voice was flat. “It is.”

Instead of its usual red target or shaky upside down heart the soul was white only for a tiny red dot in the middle. It was a circle.

Chara stared at it, “Fuck. Should we take that..? It looks diseased.”

Cross glared at him as discreetly as he could. He had never seen a circular soul before. Shouldn’t it be more heart shaped? It still sort of wiggled and the body behind it still was difficult to look at in a way that made you not want to look away. Now that his mind was clearer it reminded him of the screens at the arcade Asriel used to drag them all to.

The soul kind of glowed as well, more than souls usually do, in his experience, at least. Their eye sockets still leaked black goop so maybe that didn’t have to do with their soul after all. It seemed thicker if anything but if Cross really looked closely he could kind of see a tiny white eye light in one of the eye sockets. Said eye light flickered to the side and Cross felt his face heat up when he realised he had been staring. Not to mention he had been staring at his soul. There was nothing exactly nefarious about a bared soul but staring at one for so long unwarranted made Cross feel kind of… perverted. He turned his gaze to the ground and tried his best to pretend he hadn’t just done that.

He considered Chara’s words. Really ruminated on them. Shook them around a little. Definitely thought hard about it and not about how humiliating that was. He actually felt a bit disgusted at himself.

And so he forced himself to take a deep breath and then actually considered Chara’s point. Killer’s soul was definitely messed up, so messed up it could negatively affect Cross’ own health, assuming he’s the one that's taking a monster soul. He didn’t like the idea of dying as soon as he escaped. On the other hand they may not have enough energy to escape without another half of a soul. 

He looked over at Chara and slightly shook his head.

“Then we just hope for the best?” Chara said, exasperated.

“Why are you here?” Cross forced out, “I’m not helping you.”

“I don’t want your help,” Killer scoffed. Cross frowned. He wasn’t usually this expressive, even during their last interaction. It wasn’t like when he had gone from a blank face to rage in an instant, each expression had layers behind it and they never returned back to the stagnant grin Cross was so used to.

"So then why are you here?"

Killer shrugged, "I was bored."

"And you decided to come and bother me?" Cross drawled, "I'd rather the torture."

"Me too..." Killer tapped his finger against his chin, "But I've been given direct orders."

"To not torture me? From Nightmare?" he scoffed and turned his head away from the other skeleton, "I find that very hard to believe."

"Well believe it," Killer made a short sound of frustration and lowered himself to sit on the ground against the wall where he sits every time he visits Cross, "You still think you're better than me. Why?"

“For one I don’t work for Nightmare. I also have more self respect than you,” Cross responded flatly and glanced away, feigning boredom, “And I don’t kidnap people.”

“Why do you think that?”

Cross kept his face blank, “Because I have no recollection of ever kidnapping someone.”

“Not that,” Killer moved his head for it to appear like he was rolling his eyes, something Cross was pretty sure he had seen him do before, “Why do you think I don’t have self respect?”

“You kill people,” he pointed out, “And you don’t even look like you care. I think that qualifies as not having any self respect.”

The idea of it makes Cross feel nauseous. Or maybe that's the lack of any kind of sustenance. His magic supporting his body might not cure everything that malnutrition could cause him.

“Why would I care about random people? I don’t know them so they’re barely alive,” he responded nonchalantly, “This conversation is boring. Let's talk about you.”

“What if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“You will anyway because underneath all your pride you know that there’s a part of you that enjoys my company,” Killer grinned, ducking his head in an attempt to look bashful.

Cross’ face scrunched up and he resisted the urge to vomit, “I have no idea where you could have ever gotten a hint that could possibly be true.”

Killer pouted and folded his arms, “That's not fair. I like talking to you."

Cross laughed mockingly, “I don’t think there's anything you could tell me that I would believe less.”

Killer’s pout dropped in seconds, “Fine. But you don’t have a choice because as far as I’m aware you can’t le-...” Killer’s voice faltered and he straightened his spine before scampering to his feet and in seconds a sea of black pooled through the doorway.

Nightmare stood tall, blocking off the doorway as they always do. Only this time something was different. Cross didn't feel a rush of emotion or an intense flush of flutters in his brain. He stared at Nightmare with nothing in the way for the first time in what felt like weeks. Nightmare didn't even look his way, their wrath was reserved for another, it seemed.

A tentacle crawled out from behind them and uncurled in front of Killer. On top rested a bunch of scrap metal. "Your desperation truly is disgusting."

Killer's head stayed down and he said nothing.

The scrap metal dropped to the floor and the tentacle moved to curl around Killer's soul. The skeleton immediately tensed up and his knife fell down to his hand on impulse. He rushed into motion but Nightmare was faster. The tentacle rose into the air and the soul came with it. Killer's body fell limp as he made a choking noise.

“What the fuck did he do?” Chara wondered, keeping his distance from the display in front of them. Cross nodded, also shuffling as far away as his cuffs would allow him.

“Why must a creature like you cling onto hope even now? Get over your delusions. You’re a tool. Stop fighting it,” Nightmare scowled and for a moment Cross thought they were talking to him. His eyes flickered over to Killer’s and then to the scrap metal on the ground. It looked like the device Swap gave him that let him travel to different universes.

Killer had tried to escape and he had failed.

Cross closed his eyes and tried to block out Nightmare’s voice for what felt like hours. Eventually the pressure of Chara at his side faded and he opened his eyes. Killer wasn’t being hung up any more. He twitched and curled in on himself. It reminded Cross of himself, in a way he was ashamed of. Nightmare spared him a glance. They bit out a laugh and dripped into a less than solid form before slithering down the hall.

“Now’s our chance,” Chara whispered, despite the fact Cross was the only one that could hear him.

“You think he could hear us?” Cross whispered back because there was a chance he could in fact hear them.

“He’s not unconscious, he’s still breathing,” Chara lowered himself to the ground and tried to feel for his pulse, “I can’t feel his pulse but that's probably because I can’t touch other people and not the fact he’s dead. He’s bleeding pretty bad but it’s a head injury so that's pretty par for the course and it seems like it's just the surface of the bone so his magic will make it heal quickly. He’s been through pretty tough shit he won’t dust now that it’s stopped,” Chara stopped himself, “This had to have been on purpose..”

“What do you mean?” he responded, quieter because Killer probably could hear him, “Of course it was, we saw them do it.”

“No I mean-” Chara groaned and sat back, “I think Nightmare was holding back. They usually leave him in a worse state than this.”

“How’d you know that?”

Chara rolled his eyes and turned back to face him, “Because while you were lazing around I was actually paying attention to what was happening around us.”

Cross huffed, “I was not lazing around, I was trying to get some energy back in our body.”

“Why are you talking to yourself?” Killer’s voice caught both of their attention, dragging them out of their flustered conversation.

“Hallucinating,” Cross blurted. “I mean-  um yes. I am hallucinating.”

Killer didn't respond, only slouched further against the wall. “You prolly think I'm pathetic now, huh?”

Chara chewed the inside of his mouth and turned to walk back to Cross’ side, “You wanna handle this or should I?’

Cross shrunk at the thought of Chara controlling his body again. He coughed and spewed out the first words he thought. “I already thought you were pathetic.”

Killer laughed.

Chara glared at him. Cross swallowed his pride. He had to take his chance. “I can get us out if you can take away these cuffs.”

“What's changed?” came Killer's toneless reply. Fuck. Maybe this wouldn't work.

Cross’ voice came out as desperate and whiny as he felt, “I don't want to die here.”

Killer didn't speak for a while and neither did Cross, scared that if he did he would set the other off. Soon enough Killer pushed himself to stand up, admittedly staggering as he did so. He limped toward Cross and bared a hand covered in goop in Cross’ line of sight.

He reached behind Cross and clasped his cuffs with the goop covered hand and in less than a second it was done. Killer took back his hand and shoved it into his pocket. He swayed back and forth but stayed standing for the meantime. That wouldn't last long.

Cross felt his head get tingly with the pain he had gotten used to being relieved. He couldn't feel his arms, hadn't been able to for a while but he's sure the difference would be noticeable if he could. 

“I'll handle this,” Chara spoke and Cross’ arms moved without him having to do anything. It didn't hurt him but he was sure it would later. It was twisted in the wrong direction and it was stained with horrible colours. He held back the urge to look away so Chara could search his pockets for the paint.

His fingers tightened around a wet lump in his pocket. He scraped the top to the bottom of the pocket and pulled his hand out from the fabric. In his palm rested small shards of broken glass, stained green from Ink’s paint.

The vial was shattered, probably soaked into his clothes by then. It must’ve been broken during one of Nightmare’s visits but the last one had been at least four days ago so it’s unusual there was still some left. Cross wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he was just grateful there was anything at all. The ink dripped onto his palm, only a small clump remaining on top of a bigger shard of glass. 

Cross risked a glance at Killer. He was still shaking way too much to be normal. His arm hung limp at his side, one of his eyes drooped further down his skull than the other and it didn’t seem like he was quite all there. Cross was lucky to be so present, even if his limbs did feel useless. 

The chances of the paint working was unknown to him. He was a little concerned there wouldn’t be enough to do whatever it is supposed to do but he was seriously desperate. He closed his eyes again and took the chance. His last hope.

The paint fell to the ground in three small splashes.

Cross opened his eyes to watch the thick liquid sink into stone and as the seconds ticked by one fact made itself known.

It didn’t work.

“Fuck.”

Killer collapsed, probably unconscious. Cross didn’t care.

“We’re doomed.” Chara stated.

“No- no it could still work. Maybe we just have to do something to activate it,” Cross reasoned, reaching back into his pockets in the hopes that his numb hand would come out with more paint on it. 

 “Activate it?” Chara asked, disbelieving, “It isn’t glue. We don’t even have anything else on us. I can’t believe that selfish prick just gave us a glass of paint. To what? Remember him by? Bastard.”

“I could spit in it, “Cross suggested.

Chara made a sound of disgust, “What is your obsession with spit?Actually- why do you even think that would work? Don’t answer that.”

Cross frowned and limped away from the small patch in case it needed space to work. A lump sat in his throat and tears burned in his eye sockets. Their last hope didn’t do anything.

“Maybe we just need magic to activate it. However stupid that is,” Chara said flatly.

“You think?”

“No but we don’t have any other plans.”

Cross begrudgingly agreed. The magic blocker was still clinging to his arm. It was horribly rusted and stained a dried purple. He couldn’t get magic outside his body unless he..

Cross pushed his finger under his bones and pulled open a large incision that had just begun to close itself, clenching his teeth together to muffle his screams. Magic and blood squirted all over the place, joining the neon green paint on the floor. It created a dark grey swirl in the middle. Cross stumbled back and held his breath.

“It didn’t-”

The paint expanded and began to rise until it was Ink’s height and shape. The paint dropped off the skeleton and sunk fully into the stone.

Cross slumped to the ground in relief, “Ink.”

“C! Where have you brought me? And more importantly it's good to see you,” they smiled before taking in Cross’ appearance, “Woah what happened to you?”

Ink bounced closer, peeling their scarf off to wrap it around the slash in his arm. It leaked through quickly, the brown fabric getting darker than the small black writing all over it.

“Get us out of here. Please.” Cross pleaded. 

Chapter Text

It was difficult to recall what happened next. Ink took Cross and Killer to separate places. Cross lost consciousness as soon as he caught sight of a universe's bright blue sky.  When he woke up he was in a room that reminded him of the health centre in the old training buildings back home. There weren’t many other monsters around, just three who looked like they worked there and less than a dozen patients. An Asgore noticed he was awake quickly.

“Hello, you’re X, right?” he asked, setting a file on the desk beside the bed Cross was on.

Cross gazed at the file curiously, “What?”

“Your name,” the doctor clarified, finally glancing towards him.

“It’s Cross.”

That made the doctor take a pause. He picked up the file and flickered a few pages in. “Are you not from XTale?”

XTale.. Sounded familiar. He never considered his universe would have a name like Swap’s does. The thought hadn’t occurred to him. He blinked and looked down to the thin fabric below him. It was pink and had a pattern sewn into it. Each thread seemed to have been made with intention. Care went into its creation, obvious in the way some dots were thicker than others, almost identical if not for some barely noticeable faults. There was so much detail in such an insignificant object.

“Cross?”

Cross blinked again. “Sorry. XTale sounds right.”

“Perfect,” the doctor pulled a wooden stool up beside the bed. It creaked when he sat down on it. “Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”

“Where am I?” Cross asked instead of answering him.

Asgore chuckled, deep and slow, “I suppose it’s only fair you ask your own. You’re in the Omega Timeline. Core Soul Hospital. Is it my turn now?”

Cross turned away from him. Ink took him to a hospital.. did that mean.. “Did another skeleton get emitted with me?”

“Not as far as I’m aware. In fact, this is what I wanted to speak to you about. When you arrived here you were unconscious, your shoulder was dislocated, you were dangerously low on magic reserves, and there were multiple bones with the outer layer burned off. The skeleton that brought you in answered every question with “I don’t know” so the question on all of our minds is what exactly happened to you?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Cross snarled, crossing his arms. They were covered in bandages. He grazed them with the tips of his fingers, admiring the small dots that made them up. He felt his face become less tense the longer he admired them. Looking away would take up energy he can’t afford to lose.

Asgore sighed. “We’re just concerned about your situation. The Omega Timeline was made to take in monsters with no where to go and if you tell us what happened we can keep you safe.”

“I’m already staying in the Omega Timeline,” he bristled, tightening his grip on the bandages. Curiosity edged in the corner of his mind. What did he look like beneath them? Were his bones still clean and unscarred. Still… perfect?

“Did someone staying here do this to you?” Asgore’s voice was softer. His paws came into Cross line of sight, making their way to his hands. He tensed up, clenching his teeth. He did not want to bite this doctor's arm off.

“No.”

The Asgore sighed. He pushed himself up with a grunt and picked back up the file, “Your legs were almost burned off but after a few more days of rest you should be able to walk again. I advise you to eat more food to aid the healing process, you were pretty malnourished when you were emitted. Your IV was just removed yesterday. Frankly, I’m surprised you lasted so long. Any other monster would be dust by now.”

The monster stopped for a few moments, like he expected Cross to say something.

“Be careful with your arm. It was out of its socket for a while. It won't take much to damage it again,” he warned, setting the file back. He hesitated before he spoke this time, “It's all stuff that will heal but.. Upon your arrival you were CHECKED and the way your soul looks is alarming to say the least.”

“You looked at my soul?” he scowled. “Isn’t that an invasion of privacy or something?”

Asgore ignored him. “It seems like you’ve merged your soul with a human’s. We’ve never seen anything like it before and we wanted to wait for you to wake up to get your confirmation on getting a closer look at it, possibly pursuing an investigation into the inner workings of it.”

“No. Thank you.” Cross shuffled, wincing when his head panged. It was like a bomb was set off in there.

“You should reconsider,” Asgore insisted, “This could benefit you greatly, and we do promise financial support.”

“I don’t want people to study my soul,” Cross stated, “Stop asking.”

“Listen kid-”

“I’m almost thirty.”

“- why don’t you put some more thought into it? There’s no need to be aggressive.”

“I’m not getting aggressive,” he objected, “Look. I just want to be out of here as soon as possible. It's nothing against you.”

His eyes flickered up from his arms. He froze at what stood in front of him.

Air escaped his lungs. Was this a dream? Had he even escaped after all or had Nightmare found him? He couldn’t go back. He felt magic flare up in his bones and tried to fire an attack at Nightmare’s skewed face. His bones bubbled up, something pulling at the outer layer, trying to escape. Images of cotton flashed in his eyes.

He sprang to his feet, once again thankful for his training as he skillfully jumped back despite the way his legs wobbled uncontrollably. Nightmare didn’t move to doge the attack, they simply stood still.

Something latched around his arm and he instantly swung at whoever had managed to sneak up on him. They staggered away but no matter how much Cross tried he couldn’t make out the image of their face. Another person grabbed his arm, this time with such a strong grip he couldn’t get them off. Cross tried to kick them away but found he couldn’t move his legs. Dots flickered into existence in front of him. One second he was standing and the next he was face to face with the floor. The next time he blinked his eyes didn’t open.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

Cross stirred, blinking slowly while trying to process the new terrain, “What happened?”

“You were panicking about something or another and the doctors reacted poorly. I apologise for their behaviour,” said a skeleton. They typed furiously at a laptop, “Guess you could say that Doctor Dreemurr is quite the ‘silly billy’.”

Cross tried to get his bearings as the other skeleton continued, “I’m a different kind of doctor who will be supervising you until the trial. You can call me Sci.”

The room was much more sterile than before. Everything was white and smooth and there was nothing as detailed as the cloth Cross remembers. He felt unusually calm. He rubbed his skull with his hand, trying to alleviate the banging going on inside, “What trial?”

The skeleton hummed, resting their head on the hand, still staring at the laptop screen, “Killer was taken into custody. His trial will be held in a week and until then you’ll be staying with me. Witness protection kind of thing.”

His chest became tighter. “Protection from Nightmare?”

“I suppose,” the skeleton pushed their chair away from their desk and spun around to face him, “You do want to testify, don’t you?”

“Sure, I just… what could I add?”

Sci quirked a non-existent brow and readjusted their bright red glasses, “From our understanding of the situation you were abducted by Nightmare, correct? You must have noticed a few things about how Killer and Nightmare interacted. If it seemed like he wanted to work under him or was being coerced somehow.”

"Why don't you run away?"

“Why would I?"

“.. that’s right,” Cross mumbled into his scarf. Chara was awake now, he wasted no time before opening his mouth.

“Do you think he’ll be sentenced to death? He’s a mass murderer, he deserves it,” Chara sat against the wall. “If it weren't for him we’d probably be closer to getting our universe back. Or at least a soul.”

It seemed as if the following week passed in seconds. Most days were spent passed out in Sci’s bedroom which he claimed to never use (certainly looked as if that was the case, though that was quite hypocritical of Cross to judge him for) while others were wasted staring at walls contemplating what had happened. Chara chewed him out for wasting so much time, claiming he couldn’t wait to get his own body so he could be rid of Cross.

He felt oddly numb. Everything felt so normal, staying in a room so similar to his own, staring at walls with Chara as his only company. It was weird. Chara told him to go to Sci for company, but Cross couldn’t find the energy.

And then one day it was time.

Sci opened a portal to a different universe, one still underground yet undeniably marvelous to look at. Buildings were massive and were all accompanied by their own unique futuristic gimmick. Cross had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Everything was a flurry of spinning shapes, flashing colours and advanced technology. At first Cross had been wowed by the passion but into making the underground something to marvel at but it quickly became overwhelming. The bright colours made him falter and slowed his mind exponentially, trying it’s best to keep up with such a stimulating environment.

He kept close to Sci, meandering around a surprisingly large crowd.

“Just look at the ground, idiot,” Chara scoffed, floating above the crowd in front of them.

“Then I’ll lose Sci,” he mumbled back, but Chara didn’t seem to hear him.

Faces flashed by in less than seconds, all different but every so often he keeps seeing their face. Flashes of black and green, grinning at him before leaving as soon as they arrived. It had him on edge, sticking closer to Sci though refusing to cling to him like a child.

His fingers clung on to nothing but he was scared to let go. A lump slithered from his hands, so thick it was visible through the tape.

His mind left him, body stuck trailing after a white coat. It listened to what he said and followed instructions and then-

“Follow me.” He blinked off his drowsiness, suddenly aware of the dozens of people surrounding him. A human in uniform gestured for him to follow him and his body started moving. The human gestured for him to sit in the witness stand.

“Raise your right hand. Do you swear or affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“Yes.” Cross affirmed.

The human nodded, “Take a seat.”

Cross sat down and forced in a quiet breath. He avoided looking at the people in front of him.

The judge, a stone-faced Toriel, spoke. “Mister Fortude, whenever you're ready.”

A Gaster stepped forward and Cross instantly felt the stone in his gut get heavier and his throat tighten up. “Thank you, your honor. Good afternoon, sir.”

‘Mister Fortude’ stared at him and Cross responded curtly, “Good afternoon.”

It all felt surreal. One second he was practically dusting in an empty universe with no hope of survival and now he was in court. Fuck. How did this happen to him?

“Pay attention,” Chara scolded him, sitting very unprofessionally on the Judge’s desk.

“Could you please introduce yourself to this jury?” while Mister Fortude  spoke he nodded towards a stand of people, the jury.

Cross swallowed, “Hello, um, my name is Cross.” Oh wow this was embarrassing, sitting before a court room of people felt worse than the torture.

The Gaster didn’t seem deterred, “Cross, where do you live?”

“Uh, I’ve been staying at the Omega Timeline but I haven't been there in a while,” Cross’s words came out in a tumble.

“Because you were being held captive by Nightmare?” the question didn’t feel like a question. The answer was obvious but they asked anyway.

He felt his eye twitch, “Yes.”

Cross didn’t like this, he should’ve said no when Sci gave him the chance.

“Did you have any interactions with Nightmare before your abduction?”

“No, but I did with Killer.”

“How would you describe your relationship with Killer before your abduction?”

“We only saw each other a few times before. Three times, I think, but I’m not sure. We always fought. I knew he was messed up the first time I saw him but I didn’t know he was working with Nightmare or anything. We didn’t speak much.”

“What made Killer seem messed up to you?” Gaster asked.

Cross thought for a moment, scouring his mind for fuzzy memories, “I saw him listening into a conversation between Dream, Swap and Ink. He tried to attack me when he saw I was there but the way he was acting was weird. It doesn’t look.. right. The way he does things, I mean.”

The Gaster didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, an expression Cross was all too used to seeing, but moved on, “And did you ever see Killer during your time in captivity?”

“Yes, a lot,” he nodded, “When Nightmare was there Killer followed. Sometimes he just came in to talk to me.”

“Did you ever see how Nightmare and Killer interacted with each other?”

Cross fidgeted beneath the stand. His mind felt blank, “I don’t remember them ever interacting but I think Killer spoke about trying to escape. It's kind of.. difficult to recall what he was saying. He followed all of Nightmare’s orders and he was always laughing like crazy.”

“So you spent a lot of time with Killer?” Gaster asked.

“Yes.”

“And how would you define Killer’s mental state from your time spent with him?”

“I think he’s insane,” Cross bristled, “He was always behaving differently each time I saw him and- he didn't act normal.”

“Hm, I have no further questions, your honor,” the Gaster spoke.

The judge spoke again to another monster who seemed nervous and picked at their sleeves. Her words were lost to Cross but he could hear the other's response.

 “No, your honor.”

“Bring the next witness to the stand.”

The same man from before ushered Cross out of the witness stand. Cross felt relieved. That wasn’t so bad. He didn’t throw up or lose his train of thought.. probably. Looking back he can’t really remember any of his responses to the Gaster’s questions. Or what the questions were. He felt magic drip down his skull, a result of his nervousness. It wasn’t his fault that Mister Fortude had purple eyelights and the same face and looked so similar to his father. A man he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill, hug or beg for forgiveness.

Chara insisted he was still out there, that he could still kill him. Only Cross didn’t want to kill him. He wanted to see the smile Gaster got when Cross learned how to bake him something for their adoption anniversary and the proud look he reserved for when he came home late and the house was tidy and Cross’s siblings were asleep and he smelled horribly of chocolate milk but he said he felt so lucky to have such a perfect family.

“The defendant is found not guilty by reason of insanity.”

Cross blinked. Not guilty?

“What. The. Fuck.” Chara seethed.

“I hereby sentence you to life in Asylumtale’s Psychiatric Prison.” The judge spoke and it was over.

People stood up and mumbled to each other. This couldn’t be real. Cross didn’t feel real.

This couldn’t be happening. This was wrong. So so so wrong. Cross scratched at his bandages until they started to bleed. It all looked so simple. So Killer was just gone?

What if the same happened to him? He killed everyone in his universe, he destroyed it, he killed them all just to save his dad. He’s such an idiot. He’s in way too over his head he has no idea what he’s doing and he’s fucking up everything.

“Holy fuck, calm down,” Chara said, “You’re opening up our fucking arm, dipshit.”

His nails stopped digging in, instead clutching the arm entirely.

Air was forced into his body.

“It’ll be okay,” Chara spoke, looking anywhere but at him, “We’ll get our home and friends back. Nothing will stop us. I promise.”

I promise.

I promise.

I promise.

Chapter Text

Water splashed at his ankles. The tides coming in. Killer feels the cool liquid pull at his feet, pulling him in further to spit him out again. His shoes sink further into the sand the longer he stands there. He has two choices. Stand in the sand until he sinks so deep he can’t breath or follow the water's pull.

End Of Act One

Chapter Text

Act Two

"Sapore di magia"

September 12th 2018

Killer was alone.

It was a ridiculous thought. Of course he wasn’t alone, he was under constant surveillance. But Chara was gone and it was a noticeable difference. Killer didn’t miss them, because he couldn’t feel anything, but there was a space beside him that was clearly empty.

It was difficult to get used to not having the loudest voice in his head be there anymore; it was common for him to not pay attention to conversations, relying on Chara to tell him what to say or do and without them Killer felt a bit.. lost. But he had his orders and he would follow them, no matter how finicky the details were.

He often found himself staring at the magic inhibitors on his wrist, the irony not lost on him. Asylumtale was bigger than it looked. It held rooms longer than Killer had ever seen in his life, simply with the purpose to hold a couple of crazies like him. They all slept in the same space, crowded and dusty. The staff didn’t enter other than diffuse fights before the piles of dust got bigger. They stuck to observing them through the cameras which were seemingly indestructible. Many monster’s had tried, both on purpose and not, but nothing even put a dent in the irritating red light.

Whatever. Killer had other things to occupy himself with, like trying to get to know the staff and wasting his time. Life in captivity was bleak and Killer found himself longing for the days where he could go out for longer than an hour. Some monsters were granted the privilege of wandering around however much they pleased but Killer was yet to get there. He was still considered a risk. ‘Dangerous and unpredictable’ so it seemed his options would be limited for a while.

The staff asked a lot of stupid questions upon his arrival but he couldn’t remember them. Only the implication of fear. Time passed slowly. Too slowly and it was nostalgic in a way; the waiting. There was a nagging voice in the back of his head, screaming that he didn’t have enough time to wait, that he needed to do something .

“You belong here,” Undyne spat at him. She never looked at his face and he never looked at hers. He was too scared of what he’d see. 

“You know that, don’t you? That you deserve this.” Her words were as sharp as always. He felt his soul quiver in front of his chest, the feeling unbearable as nails on a chalkboard and just as unnatural.

“This place is disgusting,” a voice whispered inside his skull. They were different from Undyne. They were more real. “They could at least clean it once in a while.”

Another voice responded. It was hollow and still, “What’s the point? It’s just gonna get ruined again.”

Killer tried to ignore the chatter inside his skull. The voices had been there as long as he could remember but since Chara had left they’d gotten louder. It was harder to pretend they weren’t there.

There was a blank space where his mind should be. Like a puppet waiting to be used. About as useless too. He couldn’t understand why he was stuck in this place. There was no point. If he was being completely honest he’d rather they had just dusted him for good. Deleted his code and left him behind. Certainly would be less painful.

“Hey.”

Killer snapped out of his musings when a skeleton sat down in one of the childish chairs in front of him, lounging comfortably like he belonged there. Their face was almost entirely covered by the hood of their jacket. It was brown in colour and looked far too big to be comfortable if the way the sleeves hung off their arms was anything to go by. Their bones were white like paper, not even a tint of cream. It was peculiar and as a result, interesting. Undyne didn't react to his presence, just stared at the rest of the room like always.

Killer maintained his grin and leaned forward. “Hello. And you are?”

The skeleton considered the question for a moment. “You can call me Sarin. You’re Killer, aren’t you?”

“You know me?”

“Of course,” Sarin replied without wasting a second, but his words weren’t rushed, they were dragged out and almost quiet but certain, “You’re hard to not know about.”

Killer cocked his head to the side and sharpened his grin, “How do you mean?”

Sarin laughed, a low and amused huff, “You worked with Nightmare and didn’t think people would know who you are? Word spreads fast in the multiverse, especially since you were caught and put in this dump.” He gestured to the room around them, and as he did so his arm passed through Undyne. Killer felt his eye twitch when he saw it.

Caught… Killer held back his scoff. “So why are you here? You don’t seem very crazy.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Killer,” Sarin lectured, crossing his legs underneath him. “I’m talking to you. Would a sane person do that?”

“Huh. I suppose they wouldn’t.” As he said it his hand itched towards his sleeve. He didn’t have his own clothes yet, like Sarin did, but scraps donated to the hospital. In his jacket he had knives and he longed to feel the cool metal against his bones. It was too warm in this place.

Unexpectedly, Sarin continued. “And how could you even define ‘sane’? Just someone who thinks the way we’re supposed to? Someone that doesn’t ever question things they’re told are true? What’s the difference between us and the creatures that are idolised for changing things? They hurt people for the greater good didn’t they? Years ago human scientists and artists all contributed to vivisections to improve medicine and art but what we do is cruel? Honestly.. All that’s changed is that we didn’t write down what we learned.”

Killer blinked, not entirely digesting what Sarin was rambling about. Clearly he had judged the others sanity too hastily.

“You’re saying what I’ve done is comparable to a couple vivisections?”

Sarin examined him and then smiled. “You aren’t the best example. But what you’ve done,” he let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, “It’s beyond what I can imagine. I think what you’ve done is beautiful, in a way. When people are hurt it’s…”

“..It's..?”

“Its weird.” He stated, “It hurts but it shows that you can hurt. That’s beautiful.”

Killer laughed, “You’re a freak.”

Sarin didn’t entertain his belittlement, “So what do you do around here? Just sit and think?”

“What else is there to do?”

A frown made its way to Sarin’s face, affronted. “Come with me.”

He didn’t wait for confirmation. Sarin walked towards the far end of the room, not even sparing a glance back. Killer figured he had nothing better to do and followed. A member of staff interfered as they closed in on a rugged door. “Dust S-”

“I’ve told you a million times it's Sarin, Desessus.”

The monster gave them a sickeningly sweet smile and continued, “And I’ve told you a million times its Doctor, Sowrin. And I can’t let you out before seven.”

Sarin didn’t seem deterred, only took Dessesus’s hand in between his own and moved closer by a margin. “I’ll give you an extra hour later.”

That made something flicker in their eyes. Something dangerous. They stepped back and raised their hands with a smile, “Then I guess if anyone asks I didn’t see anything.”

Killer glanced between the two, confused as to what he was watching. Sarin smiled back at them and continued towards the door but when Killer moved as well Desessus spoke again, “Woah now! You’re bringing this one with you, Sowrin?”

Sarin turned back around and examined them both. “Yes. Is that a problem, Doctor?”

Dessesus tsked and nodded gravely. “I’m afraid so. He’s under watch. We’re supposed to be careful around him. High risk. Can’t let him out of sight.”

Sarin hummed and put on a disappointed face, “I’m high risk too. Why is he so special?”

The doctor laughed. Killer’s eye sockets squinted at them and their sharp teeth. “You’ve been good, haven’t you? That means you’re the special one. I would never be so lenient with other high risks.”

“Then I guess another hour couldn’t hurt,” Sarin responded like he had planned it from the start but his sweet smile was so obviously coated in malice it was a surprise the doctor hadn’t scolded his attitude yet.

Dessesus leaned even closer, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You’re quite professional, aren’t you?” Killer asked, and afterwards let out a loud, wheezy laugh. Dessesus’s smile fell as they looked over to him. He was sure to give the doctor his best grin. A voice in his head groaned.

“Actually,” Dessesus pondered, “I can’t trust that he’ll behave. You can afford the whole night can’t you Sowrin?”

Sarin looked at them for another moment and for a second it seemed as though his smile would fade. But it didn’t and he reached out to drag Killer behind him, “I’ll see you later, Doctor.”

The doorway led into a room with a staircase and the two skeletons made the journey up in silence before Killer spoke. “What's their deal?”

Sarin chuckled, “They're a real freak, right?” Sarin moved with an elegance other monsters didn’t. It was otherworldly. As soon as Killer looked up to see him he was brought to another world, where words came so easily and conversation flowed seamlessly. There was a difference between the two of them, but he wasn’t sure which of them was the weird one.

“You’re both freaks,” Killer grumbled in response and Sarin let out a sound similar to a laugh.

He opened the silver door, kicking away the tinfoil that was shoved in the crack underneath so it wouldn’t get stuck. It creaked loudly when it was pulled, a sign of its age. He kicked it closed when Killer slipped out and it shut with a slam.

The cold air hit their faces and Killer stopped when he saw the snow all around them. He hadn’t realised Asylumtale was still underground. It was like home.

“Don’t look,” a voice urged. Killer turned back to see Sarin shuffling through a couple boxes. They were placed directly so they wouldn’t be affected by the weather, right underneath the eave.

“Are you a reader?” he asked, pulling about a dozen folders out and flickering through the contents.

Killer took in the assortment of stuff in the box, folders, cases, bottles and jars. “Why’s this all out here?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to put it,” he shrugged and sat down with his back to the box, patting the space beside him.

He handed a folder to Killer, one old and slightly damaged at the corners. Killer glanced over to see Sarin’s eager face. Well. He had nothing better to do. He opened up the cover and the first page stared up at him. “What is this?”

“It’s poetry,” Sarin explained. “Most of them are my favourites but I’ve written a few.”

Killer glanced back at the paper.

Paula Meehan- You Open Your Hands To me

Killer blinked at the name. "...a human wrote this?"

"Yeah," Sarin huffed out a breath of smoke, "As much as I hate them, I have to give credit where credit is due... The legends do say they're better than us anyway.."

He turned his focus back to the paper.

They hold nothing

They are calloused

Earth under the fingernails

The heart line strong and sure

As any river crazy for the sea

These hands hold nothing

They are the hands of a  worker

They are the hands of one who has no job

They have tucked a whole city up at night

And in the morning cast it adrift

These hands could pack everything they value

In a minute or less

From a burning building 

They would save what is living

Not what is Art

They reach to me in the dark

Of a nightmare

They pull me clear

They place the particular stars I prefer

At my window

On cloudy nights

They make images of the moon

In case I am lonely

These hands hold nothing

They do not judge

They are drawn to the wounded

They have no history

They fire the first shot

They are the hands of a builder

They dismantle empires

They love most what is wild

They invite no pity

Were I dying I would choose

These hands to guide me

Out of the world

You open your hands to me 

Your empty hands

“.. so what does it mean?”

Sarin glanced down to the paper, eye lights slightly glazed. “It’s poetry. The only one who knows the meaning is you.”

Killer cocked his head and laughed, “What?”

Sarin shuffled closer to him. “.. A poet doesn’t tell you the meaning of the poem unless they’re a shitty poet. You interpret it. Think about it and find your own meaning.”

And Killer stared. He looked at each word and heard it echo in his mind, yet he couldn’t string a coherent thought about it together. The meaning was there but it felt like he was missing something.

“I have a book that could suit you,” Sarin suggested out of the blue. He reached out to the box and shuffled through it before placing a book on top of the open folder. There were two humans on the front and it had large text sprawled across the cover. Baby Teeth. Meg Grehan. “Read it if you want.”

Killer flickered to a random page experimentally.

Is the body even mine

Has any body ever

Really

Been mine

The first

Maybe

The original

But I remember 

Nothing of it

Its shape and its colour its make up

Maybe

I think that was me

The purest

Realest me

And everything since then

Is pretend

Is costume

Is disguise

Is untrue

Something shot through Killer like a spear. The book was slammed shut without Killer realising what he was doing and all of a sudden he seemed quite out of breath. He stole a glance at Sarin, but he was just staring off to where the the pavement was drenched in snow. Killer slid the book to the side and swallowed. He couldn’t do that now.

The poem stared up at him and Killer couldn’t fend off a wrong thought. A thought that if he could feel as much as Sarin does that the words would make sense. That if he could feel the world would make sense.

“What… does it mean to you? The poem.”

And the sea stilled. And the sky smiled. And the vulture screamed.

And Sarin said.

“Hope.”

Killer flipped to the next page in the folder.

They sat together for a while, lingering on pages and sitting in silence until eventually Sarin said, “Why was your soul moving like that earlier?”

Killer didn’t look away from the paper. “Like what?”

“It was wiggling kind of. It looked like a normal monster soul for a second. Are you getting better?” Sarin inquired further.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” he said. Sarin didn’t push the topic further.

And when Sarin closed the folder he smiled. “I’ll find you again tomorrow.”

And when Killer went back through the door, thin book in hand, the blue fish monster was gone.

He finished Baby Teeth quickly. In less than a day, in fact. It was a mistake. It left him with his thoughts. And their thoughts.

A voice inside scoffed. "This is such a waste of time. We should've spent it leeching off information from Sarin, not drawling over a love sick vampire."

Another voice sighed, "It felt like she was more than a vampire though, didn't it? ...She felt like.. us."

With their statement the melancholy voice pushed words that stuck with them to the forefront of their mind.

Kill me

It won't matter

Kill me

I'll be

Right back

A shiny new me

No dust

No ash

No soil

Kill me

They had stared at that page for so long it was glued in their mind. The paper was soft. Like fur under their fingers. Killer twitched. His wide eyes stared through the paper and his broken body couldn't stop its insistent twitching.

The story was one of love. Two girls, Claudia and Immy. A human and a vampire. A yellow rose. It was beautiful. It made Killer...

Focus. He shook himself out of his frenzy and listened to the loudest voice. The one that screamed at him to follow his purpose. But.

  I’m just

Here

In a body

In a life

And I don’t know what to do with it

And they try to tell me

But they don’t know either

And I’d hand it over

I think

Some days

I’d give it to one of them

Sink quietly into a corner

But I’m not invincible

And in there

Is much scarier

Than out here

Killer opened his eyes, staring up at the dark ceiling. Occasionally there would be a flicker of red light from the cameras, or a cough from another monster.  In the mornings there’s shouting, a surplus of pointless fights. Killer was itching to start one.

A beam of light shot through the dark room, burning holes in the back of his skull. Someone was leaving. He slipped out of bed and trailed after them, closing the door behind him as he did so. It was strange seeing the halls so empty. He made the journey through the building absentmindedly and soon he was at the stairs. The tinfoil keeping out the breeze came away with a soft kick and as a result the silver door creaked open. 

And there he sat. Sarin, sitting beneath the eave to avoid the rain. It dripped against the roof at a quick pace, almost louder than the wind. The cigarette between his fingers held a hue that was striking against the cold colours around them.

“How’d you get that?” Killer asked. He took his place beside Sarin, recognising the way his body reacted to the heat from him. Its shaking dwindled and he sank into the ground.

A cloud of smoke slipped out from Sarin’s teeth. It floated up until Killer couldn’t see it anymore. He gestured to the boxes behind him, “Dessesus will get me anything.”

“They’re the one that got you all this?” Killer laughed and peeked at the content inside, “Maybe I should get on their good side.”

Sarin didn’t laugh. “I don’t think they’re looking for another.”

Killer laughed for him. Sarin flicked his smoke, and a bit of ash drifted to the cold, wet ground. “How did you get so close to them? I thought these guys were supposed to be real strict.”

“We’re lost causes. Just wasting away in this place where creatures don’t have to worry about us hurting them. They aren’t strict because they’ve given up on you. On all of us,” Sarin took another drag of his cigarette, “And Dessusus got close to me, not the other way around. I didn’t do anything.”

“Huh.”

“If I asked, I think they'd let me leave,” Sarin muttered, a spur of thoughts slipping out unconsciously.

Killer perked up. “ Really? Gee, your head must be amazing if you think it would get you out of Psychiatric Prison.”

Sarin scoffed but there was a tilt to his teeth, a hint of a smile. “Yeah, man. They've done this much. Why wouldn't they?”

Killer pretended to think for a second, “Uhh, I don't know, maybe because they don't want to lose their job?”

“As if they'd get fired,” he replied, mouth full of smoke, “Dessesus has something on everyone that works here.”

“Do they have something on you?”

Sarin looked towards him. “Nothing I care about. I'm an open book.”

Killer shuffled to face him, “ Really? Then.. Why are you here? What did you do?”

Sarins smile grew, the street lights from below casting a shadow that put more life on his face. “Why do you want to know?

“I’m bored,” Killer shrugged. There was nothing more to it, after all. There’s no point in sitting in silence waiting when time passes by quicker while having fun.

Sarin threw the small nub of paper out into the rain where its flame was doused in water. He pulled another out of his coat pocket and lit it with a small black lighter. “I’m on a lot of drugs."

Killer waited for him to finish, but an expansion never came. “That’s it?”

“..

My universe.. Was a bad one. There was a human and they killed everyone. Over and over.. Until one day I couldn’t deal with it, y’know?  And I decided the only way to get them to stop was to ruin their fun. So. I killed them first. Beat them to the punch.. Until.. It started to disappear.

At first it was just random, small, useless junk. A plant, a tree.. A flower.

But then it became more noticeable. Buildings were gone. Whole patches of land and then monsters. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. Felt like every day was spent with Alphys, pissing ourselves over ways to stop whatever was happening. 

I didn’t even have the time to be grateful the human stopped showing up.

And then Core found us. Me, Alphys, some kid. They said our universe was deleted and they had a place for us to go. We weren’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

So we stayed in the Omega Timeline. It was nice back then. Small. Quaint. Didn’t take long for everyone to know everyone. I hear it’s much bigger these days.

Anyways.. One day, I wasn’t feeling like myself. Missing my brother.. Seeing so many humans. It all freaked me out and then it was like I was back home again. Like I needed to get there before the human could.

I think I killed half of them. When they took me to trial, heh , most of the seats were empty. I know why I’m here. It’s for the best.”

Killer tugged at his mind for a response. Something to say, words of condolences, pity, anything. But nothing came. Killer didn't care. Killer couldn't care.

"So.. where you gonna go then? When you ask Dessesus to let you out?"

Ash fell down from Sarin's smoke and Killer watched it fall and stain his nice, clean clothes. He wondered if Sarin felt clean wearing them. Or if who gave it to him made it feel like mud sticking to his bones. Killer wouldn't know.

"Nah. I'm staying here for life. No where to go, after all."

Something in Killer diminished at that. 

The simple fact that Sarin was content to stay trapped in this place for his whole life made something sit in Killer’s gut. Only these feelings weren't his own. They came from someone else within him. Ignoring it was the only way he could move forward.

“If you really want to get out of here,” Sarin continued, “.. Do it for yourself. Don’t let yourself be taken advantage of, Killer.”

Sarin threw away his cigarette and breathed out a cloud of smoke and ash. It warmed the two skeletons’ bones.  Sarin had shown Killer his SOUL. Perhaps Killer should do the same.

Air polluted with smoke swept through Killer’s teeth. It tasted like home. “I’m not like you. I was made to be used. I just need to find my next wielder.”

Sarin crossed his arms in front of his chest, sinking further into the cool damp stone floor. A small frown was present on his face, his teeth stuck tilting down. “I can’t be that monster.”

“You can’t,” Killer agreed. He shuffled closer inconspicuously until their shoulders were touching. Sarin’s eye lights illuminated the dark platform, two red glowing circles that hid the answers to Killer’s questions. 

The eye lights flickered down. Killer imagined it was to his soul. A display of his dependency. A sign that promoted his loyalty. But then Sarin leaned impossibly closer, until his magic warmed the air behind him and the light shined like the sun on unsuspecting eyes. Sarin’s eye sockets were hooded. And then they were closed. He pushed himself closer to Killer and gently placed his teeth against his. Killer felt his body freeze. Sarin’s magic slipped into him delicately. Killer felt like glass. He had never felt like he could shatter so easily.

“Wait.” Killer moved an inch away and watched Sarin open his eye sockets, confused.

Killer was in unfamiliar territory. The only basis he had for love was Claudia and Immy and..

“I can’t feel like you can,” his hand slid down to cradle the forearm of the other, “I’ll only disappoint you.”

Sarin’s hand slipped out of his hold and raised to Killer’s cheek. His thumb smeared the determination that fell down from his eye sockets. “I want it to hurt.”

His words came with a kiss to Killer's cheek, the one not in Sarin’s hold. Another thin hand pressed against his chest, shoving until his back was flat against the ground and Sarin leaned over him. His hood fell over his skull, casting a shadow on his face that only made his eye lights more prominent.

Killer leaned into the next kiss, expecting the gentleness and the odd sensation of magic transferring from one to another. When Sarin pulled away a string of magic kept them connected. He huffed out a breath and the air felt tingly against Killer’s bones. A shiver graced his spine.

“We aren’t created with a purpose,” Sarin whispered, teeth against thin bone, “You don’t need to find one. Just live to live.”

Chapter Text

Sarin is used to being alone. Time passes slowly in silence, making silence seem to last forever. Perhaps he wasn't as alone as he felt, but he would never be sure. His hand danced along paper with the grace of an expert. At times it seemed he was anything but.

Paper crinkled when he removed his right hand and he had found the task more enjoyable when his entire focus was on the words streaming out from his brain, each one placed with the care of a mother to their child.

He was being pretentious. Another stream, one of red dripped out from his left hand. He turned his gaze up from where the miniscule drops on the fibers were being stained and saw what was in front of him for what it was. The puddle he would drown in.

Chapter Text

It was a quiet day in the Omega Timeline, as it often tended to be. The sky was a mess of white and blue and the sun burned into the top of everyone’s heads. The air was thick and left layers of  sweat on every human and monster that was unfortunate enough to have skin. Chara considered himself lucky in that regard, watching creatures complain about the temperature, which they were disgustingly taking for granted, made him feel superior, despite the fact the only reason the weather wasn’t affecting him was because he was stuck with semi-control of their body. 

It was true that as of currently their body is closer to resembling Cross then it was Chara, but that didn’t make it any less true that half of their soul belonged to him. Cross acted like their soul being fused was the worst thing ever. Like it wasn’t his fault. Chara truly loathed him and how stupid and immature he tended to be. And Chara wasn’t going to waste time moping around and shaking in fear when the heat got too intense. No, he had a plan.

For the past three weeks he had noticed Ink slinking around the Omega Timeline. Not completely unlike him, but it wasn’t his presence that had Chara on edge, it was their behavior. Normally, Ink spoke loudly, energetically and was quick to lose his trail of thought, but for some reason he was focused, standoffish, awkward and most unusually closed off. Something had to be going on with them, something was bothering them enough for it to cause a noticeable difference in attitude. Whatever it was, Chara didn’t really care. It was what that could mean for his plan that mattered.

Annoying Cross was fun before they got kidnapped. It was a way he could remind him of how useless and fucked up he was, but now it was like he couldn’t even hear Chara’s words. He was ignoring him, the petty bastard. Well, Chara had enough of him anyways. There was only so much undeserved self pity Chara could tolerate and Cross had passed that line months ago. He needed out and he saw his chance.

It was easy to take control of the body without Cross noticing, Chara was getting a lot of practice, after all, and it wasn’t like Cross was even present in the moment enough to be able to comprehend the passing of time anyways, so he was basically the only one using their brain in the first place. He nudged Cross away from the front of their mind, the part they used to move around and Cross fell away without a word. Chara blinked at the sudden wave of heat encompassing them and fended off a wince. He wasn’t as weak as Cross so he easily ignored the temperature. It was nice in a way. Different from XTale where the weather was perfect; the occasional nice drizzle to keep flora alive and temperatures so “okay” it wasn’t noticeable. Nobody ever complained about the weather but they never had anything good to say either. No one cared enough to think about it.

He shook himself out of the memory and glanced around the crowded neighbourhood Cross had been mindlessly wandering through until a flash of brown appeared. There he was.

Ink, rushing through the crowd without even stopping to marvel at the colours like they usually would. Chara focused on him and forced their body forward, accidently bumping into dozens of monsters in his haste.

It was impossible to try and figure out where Ink was headed. With the way they were moving it was like they didn’t know either. Chara finally caught up to him and yanked on their scarf. They fell backwards with a yelp, throwing both of their hands into the air unhelpfully as their back hit the floor. From the pathetic display you would never be able to guess that this was a guardian. Two images of cartoon birds flying in a small circle showed up in their eye sockets instead of eye lights. He pushed himself off the ground and rubbed at the back of his head, an area that wasn’t even impacted by the fall and winced. Suddenly their eye lights snapped back as they looked towards Chara, a red exclamation point and a purple cross. Chara didn’t like the look of it.

“C!” Ink exclaimed and jumped to their feet. “Fancy seeing you here! Jeez.. when was the last time we met? A year ago?”

Chara stared at him in a way that he hoped made the short skeleton uncomfortable and deadpanned, “When I was bleeding out in Nightmare's basement I think.”

Ink chuckled nervously, rubbing his arm, “Oh yeah..”

Chara let them stew in their discomfort for a few moments, satisfied to see which direction Ink would steer the conversation in.

“So, uh.. Did you need something? I’m a pretty busy guy you know… gotta get some milk for my dads. I mean can you imagine if they had to get it themselves? They’d never come back! Heh Heh… heh…” he trailed off awkwardly, his usual teasing tone nowhere to be seen, replaced by a flat voice and poorly disguised disinterest.

“Oh, right,” Chara said, “It’s been a bit lonely here. I’ve.. missed you, and it's difficult to talk to people here. I feel like everyone knows me as the monster that got kidnapped by Nightmare. I was wondering if you could take me to another universe. Just for a little.”

Chara hoped Ink would fall for the total shit he was spewing, that they wouldn’t look past their pity and soft words and would see it for the shitty plan it really was. That they would look past Cross’s body and see Chara. 

The few seconds it took for Ink to respond felt like torture. “Oh. Have creatures been mistreating you in the Omega Timeline?”

Chara felt their eye socket twitch and hoped Ink hadn’t noticed. “No. I am just shy.”

Ink’s face brightened, “Oh! Hmmm. There aren't a lot of places I could take you that already know about the multiverse…”


Abruptly Ink sprang forward and closely inspected him. Chara tensed and held his breath. “I guess… There is.. Oh but.. Hm. This is difficult. OH I know!” Ink grinned and took their broom out. A small splash of paint was slathered onto the road, “This universe is super friendly and an Outertale Papyrus used to live there. Have fun!”

Chara felt the air escape his lungs in relief. He gave Ink a relieved smile he didn’t even need to fake and said, “Thank you.”

Ink’s face flushed a pastel rainbow and they rubbed the back of their head bashfully, “Aww it’s my pleasure, buddy. Now I really gotta bounce, see ya, C.”

Ink ran off, not letting Chara get even one more word in. Seemed he was really in a rush to get that milk. Chara shrugged it off and slipped into the pool of paint

The difference in temperature was instantly noticeable. He had been delivered into the middle of what he recognised from his earlier years as Snowdin. There was the inn, librarby, and shop. It felt wrong to look at. He forced his gaze away and tried to solve where the human would be. It would've been a lot fucking more convenient if Ink had brought him to a surface universe but it wasn't like he was going to go back and demand they bring him to a different one. Unless there turned out to not be a human there.

He huffed and continued down the path, shuffling around in Cross's stupid fucking uniform. It did look ridiculous but at least it was kind of cozy. He noticed how the monsters were wearing more revealing clothes, probably more used to the cold than he was. It was a stupid thing to be jealous of. He was just excited to get back into a body of his own. A human body. 

He soon wandered into hotland and meandered over to the lab. It was bizarre when the door slid open and he was greeted with a wall of fans, all on at full force. To each their own, he guesses.

Across the room there was a massive screen, portraying a bland looking human. They were a child, wearing a massive jumper and a dinosaur plaster on their cheek. He frowned, uncomfortable at the idea of someone watching them, but at least it was convenient.

Chara would have liked it more if he could get an adult human, admittedly fed up with being stuck in a child one. But this human body would eventually grow up. What was a couple more years?

 He watched for a while until they eventually passed by something he recognised. The activity was mind numbing but in the corner of the screen he could see the sign of the librarby. He grumbled and sprang up, rushing towards it as fast as he could. He should've stayed where he was.

It was up until he had almost reached a distance just enough away that the human was still out of sight but so close that he realised he had no idea what he was getting into. He should go into this with a plan.

He acted fast, scampering into a nearby alley and bringing his plan, which was sure to succeed, into fruition. He dug into his pockets and pulled out a bar of chocolate, unwrapped it, and separated it into tiny pieces, which were then haphazardly littered in a trail leading up to the alleyway.

Chara hid behind a bin, which for some reason had a pillow in it, waiting for the human to fall for his scheme.

It wasn't long before they arrived, drawn in by the lustrous scent of sweet, milky, goodness. Chara  sent up a layer of bones, enclosing them in the alleyway with no escape.

They looked around, panicked, and yanked a stick out of their pocket and pointed it at him like it was a sword. Chara wielded the hack knife and gave them a sympathetic look, "It's nothing personal, kid."

Chara swung down the red knife, expecting the force of a human body, only for the knife to swing into the ground. It glitched underneath their feet and Chara quickly looked around for the human. They had dodged and were now crossing their arms dutifully.

Chara scowled, “Listen, twerp. I need your soul. So.. fork it over.”

The human made no move to fork over their soul. Chara ran a finger over the end of their blade and was preparing another attack when a presence loomed behind him. His body tensed and he forced himself to turn around.

A tiny brown mouse squeaked up at him and Chara stared at it baffled. It launched itself onto Chara’s face, digging its large nails into him and squeaking insistently. He yelped and fell backwards, scrambling to remove it from his face. It scampered into their eye socket and curled up behind his nose. Chara screamed in frustration. An intense chill shook their body at the uncomfortable sensation and he shoved his hand into his eye socket after the mouse.

He felt its nails cut through the magic swimming inside them and forced their teeth together hard enough to seal noise. Finally his finger yanked on the mouse's tail and squeezed hard enough for something beadlike inside the tail to pop and deflate. Chara's stomach twisted in disgust and he threw it over his shield of bones with as much force as he could manage. Its squeaks mimicked screams as it flew through the air. Good riddance.

Chara maintained his composure to focus on the human again, who was giggling into the palm of their hand. Chara could feel liquid drip out of their eye and decided he was not in the mood. He pounced on the human and held them in between his legs while brandishing a regular knife to impale them with.

He swung it into them and they opened their mouth to scream. They spasmed beneath them and he took great joy in tearing the knife out of them, watching a spurt of blood stain the ground and by extension his clothes. A sound of exertion leaked from his teeth as he swung again, shoving his knife in at an angle this time.

He had to wiggle his hand to get it out, and the human made a guttural sound as a foamy white liquid dripped out of their mouth. Chara recoiled. Disgusting. He perked up when their soul started to float above their body and grappled for it hastily.

It pulsed excessively in his grasp and he brought it up to his face, just to savour the moments before his freedom would come.

This was his way out. 

.The SOUL was consumed. Your HP was maxxed out!

Cross fell face first onto the hard pavement, unable to do much more than blink off his drowsiness. His eye lights made everything seem blurry, but he could see a small figure becoming smaller and smaller with each blink. The blinking eventually was too much effort. He closed his eye sockets and drifted into unconsciousness.

When he next opened his eyes he was no longer on the ground. He slipped into awareness warm and resting on something soft. That was unusual. It didn't take long before there was a pulsing attack to the side of his head. His hand raised to cradle it with a wince and he was partially confused when there was nothing there but his skull. His surroundings were unfamiliar.

It looked like he was in a living room, one unlike he'd ever been in before. The furniture was a light brown wooden texture while every other decoration was soft and either teal or hot pink. There were pictures on the wall, mostly of landscapes, but above the fireplace there was an image in a frame on the mantle. Two skeletons, both dressed immodestly but smiling and huddling right next to each other. They shared the same faces with him and Papyrus but everything else was different. They looked close.

He was startled when someone spoke from the door, voice high but smooth, “Oh, you're awake.”

They were carrying a tray with some kind of soup on it and they placed it onto the circular table right in front of the couch Cross was resting on with a grin, “You can call me Lust. What's your name, darling?”

Cross flushed a little at the name but tried his best to seem unaffected, “Ah.. um. Cross. No offense.. but have you- kidnapped me?”

The skeleton looked surprised and laughed, “No? You were unconscious in an alleyway nearby and I thought you looked like you could use a hand.”

Cross frowned, rubbing the side of his head again. His mind began to drift as he stared at nothing. He held his breath when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He forced himself to speak, “Thanks.”

The other skeleton's mouth was open. He must've interrupted them. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. Thank the stars for being allowed to not make eye contact.

“It's no trouble, sweetie. Look.. I don't mean to be direct but.. where are you staying right now, darling?” they asked. Their voice was as sweet as honey and it made him shift in his seat. The blanket that was on his lap was a soft pink one and had small grains with fluff on them. It was nice but if he kept it on him for much longer he was going to be too warm.

He shook it off and accidentally met the skeleton's eyes. They looked like they were expecting something. Cross inwardly chided himself for not paying attention and tried his best to answer whatever they had said correctly. “Uhmm. Yeah.”

They looked relieved and a pressure lifted off Cross's chest. That is, until they asked their next question. “Whereabouts?”

Damn. He really should've been paying attention. They were making small talk, weren't they? They had probably asked where he was from. “Xtale,” he blurted. And then he noticed how suspiciously quiet Chara had been.

His entire body was suddenly cold. His hands clenched down on the blanket and he focused as hard as he could on the jarring space where Chara usually lingered inside them. It was empty. He willed himself to not panic until he was out of this stranger's house.

“Oh, darling, what are you doing here then? It might not be safe for you to travel outside of your universe, what if you had dusted?” they scolded him. Their eyes suddenly softened and they reached for the tray of soup, nudging it towards him, “Eat something. You look like you're withering away over there.”

Cross zeroed in on the bowl, now too aware of the intoxicating smell from the food. It smelled so good. He tried his best not to eat it all in four bites and appear really pathetic beside Lust, who upon further inspection was wearing some kind of formal wear. Nothing like what everyone else in this universe was wearing. He must've been staring because they suddenly drapped themself over the back of the couch and grinned, “Don't get too transfixed, my dear. Although I can't blame you.”

Cross focused back on the dwindling source of food. It had a potato-like texture but contained carrots and some kind of pig meat. It was seasoned heavily. It was the best thing he'd eaten in months. In the back of his mind he remembered he'd just been staring at the monster who had taken him in and he forced himself to apologise. “Sorry.”

They laughed, “Don't be! If I could stare at myself all day long I would, trust me.”

In the blink of his eye his body glitched and he dropped the spoon into the little pile of soup as air was forced out of him. Lust was concerned. They immediately made it so he was looking at them and their eyelights were so large it couldn't be natural, “Are you alright? What just happened?”

Cross couldn't find a response and Chara wasn't suggesting one. Lust had said it was okay for him to stare at them so he did so. Their face scrunched up but not in a way that made them look unpleasant and their hand hovered in front of his chest. Their eye lights flickered to look into his, “May I check you?”

He may have responded but he couldn't remember. Either way, Lust checked him and looked horrified at what they saw, “Oh my… you poor thing.”

His soul was cut in half. Lust made a frustrated expression and stood up. “I'll be right back, my darling. Perhaps you should get some rest.”

Lust left the room quickly and in the next room he could hear the front door shut but no click of a lock. Cross felt weird.

Well. He had been feeling weird for a while, but now he felt empty. Like something was off. Of yeah. His soul looked weird. He couldn't find it in himself to care and he snuggled up to the couch's hard arm. He didn't put the blanket back around him but he did pull it close to his chest so he could shove his head into it. It made the ache in his skull disperse a bit. 

He might've fallen asleep because it seemed like seconds had passed when Lust came back. He tore his head out of the blanket but when he tried to look over at Lust there was a light blocking his sight of them. It hurt so he looked away. It was nice to be able to prevent pain.

And then it felt like he was winking into the couch. Like he was an extension of it. It didn’t feel good but it didn't hurt. He didn't feel real. The thought of digging his fangs into the couch to see what was inside passed through his mind. He could. But it was Lust's couch and he didn't want them to think poorly of him.

Lust held something in their hands and they brought it close enough to him that he had to close his eyes. Whatever it was, it was too bright. And then it was inside him. He gasped and shot up, suddenly his mind was clear and everything looked too real. His eye lights darted towards Lust who still looked concerned. “What happened?”

They frowned and looked to the side nervously, “I was hoping you would know. You were missing half your soul so I got you a new one. Let me know if you start to feel an influx of oxytocin, won't you? The souls in this universe can be a bit odd.”

Cross didn't know what oxytocin was but nodded anyway. This monster just decided to save him. “Why did you help me?”

Lust looked kind of offended, “It was the right thing to do.”

Huh. “Is there any way I can repay you?”

The skeleton opened their mouth but stopped themself, considering something. They looked back at him with a tentative smile, “This universe can be a bit aggressive at times. If you aren't in a rush to get back home, would it be alright for you to be my.. bodyguard of sorts for a few weeks? It's pretty often that I run into trouble.”

Cross debated reaching out to touch them, just to double check that they were real. “Are you.. sure?”

They laughed and patted his arm. He didn't hate the feeling. “As sure as sugar. Now, get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Cross raised the bone above his eye in confusion but it was an expression meant entirely for himself.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter Text

A choked noise escaped Killer's mouth when he was slammed into the wall. He winced, “Really? You wanna go again?”

Sarin grinned despite the gasps for air that he was trying to slip in through his teeth, out of breath from exertion, “Yeah, you don't want to?”

Killer was flush against the hard wall of the balcony him and Sarin frequently visited, Sarin pressing his shoulders down with more force than necessary considering Killer wasn't fighting the position. His knees were on both sides of Killer's legs and they had been scrambling around on the floor long enough that a few drops of snow had started to fall. Sarin would probably complain later if he got sick because of the cold.

He must've sensed that Killer was going to refuse (or Killer just stayed silent for too long a time) because he rolled off him with a huff. In seconds he was digging around in his jacket's pockets (the jacket he had thrown off a couple of hours ago with little care) for a lighter. When he found it he sat against the wall and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before holding it out for Killer.

Killer made no move for it and eventually Sarin pulled it away. “Do you want to go in soon?”

“Nah,” Killer winced when he moved, and an unusual feeling sparked in his head when he layed eyes on the amount of bruises, blood and magic staining his bones. He ignored it and searched for his own jacket, “I'm used to the cold. You can go in whenever you want.”

Sarin didn't respond. A few stray specks of ash flew away with the wind and Killer watched them go. Sarin has a presence that is difficult to describe. Sometimes it feels like he always has a response planned to any possible statement or question. He says things with certainty, and when he doesn't he always paints his response in a way that is reassuring. His voice is smooth, like Killer could listen to it for hours and never get annoyed. He seems like he knows everything, a source of knowledge. Someone that Killer could depend on. Someone he trusts.

Someone he feels safe around.

“Are you okay?” Sarin asked. Killer hadn't realised he had zoned out and he blinked away the remnants of an excess amount of determination that lingered in his eye sockets, “Your soul looks weird again.”

And then Killer felt it.

Something pressed against his chest with enough force to snap bone and Killer kept breathing despite it. His chest expanded too quickly and his fingers were wet from magic dripping out from him. He shut his eye sockets to force out the rest of the determination and then he knew what he was feeling. 

He was scared.

Everytime that he had changed Nightmare had fixed him but now Nightmare wasn't here and neither was Chara and it was all unfamiliar and he had no idea what was happening. A sob slipped out of him before he knew what was happening and he raised a hand up to prevent any more mortifying sounds from escaping.

“Woah, what's wrong?” Sarin asked, suddenly at his side. Killer shuffled away from him and could feel the small eye light in his eye shaking uncontrollably. Killer may know Sarin but he had never spoken to Sarin like this before.

What if he didn't like him as much as he liked Killer? What if he thought it was still the same person speaking to him and decided to stop speaking to Killer all together? He didn't want Stage Two to start being scared of him too.

He forced himself to start grappling with his breathing. It was taking a while but the pressure on his chest and in his mind was starting to fade, making it easier to think and ignore the fear looming over his shoulder for a few minutes.

Sarin looked concerned but was giving him the space he needed. In the meantime he began thinking of a way to defuse the tension.

Stage One cleared his throat. His voice came out wilted, “Sorry. I wasn't freaking out because of the sex.”

Sarin gave him a look that said, “Do you seriously think that was what I thought was happening?” but out loud he said, “What's wrong? I've never heard you apologise before.”

On second thought. Maybe it would be better if Sarin didn't know. Killer's situation was one that was difficult to understand. He didn't want to tell Sarin. It was weird to do what you want after so long of following orders.

“I just feel trapped. Being here sucks.”

Sarin scoffed, “Wow, thanks.”

Killer startled and ushered to give Sarin a look that he hoped would show that he didn't mean it like that while he rushed to explain himself, “No I didn't mean you I mean-”

Sarin laughed and waved him off, “I know what you meant, Kills. I was just teasing you.”

Killer bristled, insulted. What kind of a prick asks what's wrong with you just to say something that makes it worse? Wait. Maybe that was hypocritical. Well, that wasn't something he wanted to think about. 

Don't tell him anything, a voice inside his head whispered. Killer wasn't sure who it was but they sounded scared and Killer was feeling pretty sympathetic towards himself so he complied.

“You probably don't want to spend the rest of your life here,” Sarin began, “Seeing you go would be.. hard. But I don't want to hold you down just because you're good fun.”

Someone inside Killer's head perked up and slightly nudged Stage One away from the front of their mind, just enough to make Sarin's voice slightly more difficult to focus on. Asshole.

Sarin inhaled from his cigarette before continuing, “I think we could trick Dessesus into getting you out of here if we played our cards right.”

Immediately Stage One was shoved away from the front of their mind and Stage Two had his attention fully on Sarin’s words. Their body felt perfectly numb again, the small bruises and cuts on their body nothing more than little pricks of spotty sensations.

It was too early to leave. It wasn't part of the plan to get out so early, but Killer wanted to. Getting out early would give him time to live. To actually live a life. He wanted that.

“Really?”

Sarin smiled sadly. “Sure. It would be easy.”

“What would I have to do?” Killer asked.

Sarin threw away his smoke and wrung his hands together, “Well, we're technically the same skeleton aren't we? We have the same face. You could pass as me pretty easily. Just.. ask them and they'll take you out of here. Then you could just run.”

Killer faltered, “But we sound different.”

Sarin hummed and rubbed the end of his finger against his teeth. “Then I'll ask. I tell him to meet me up here the next day and he takes you, not me. It should be quick enough that you don't have to say anything.”

“That seems pretty flimsy,” Killer muttered, crossing his arms and bringing his legs up to his chest to rest them on.

“Trust me, Dessesus talks so much they won't even notice if you haven't said a word,” he complained and lit another cigarette. Then a Killer's grin fell by a fraction when a thought hit him.

“What will you do when they come back and see you're still here? You just gonna wear my clothes for forever?” He laughed at the idea. 

Sarin looked very somber, “Don't worry about that. You'll be gone, won't you?”

Huh. Well. He was right. Whatever happened, it wouldn't be Killer's problem.

The next day Killer returned to the roof again. It had snowed the night before and he left thick footprints in the snow. He wasn't sure of how long he stayed on the roof, staring at nothing as time passed but eventually Sarin joined him. He nodded at him. Dessesus had agreed.

They exchanged clothes quickly before running into the dilemma of Killer's soul. Sarin looked away when he wrapped a hand around his soul and spared no time being delicate when he shoved it into Sarin's coat pocket. 

Sarin hesitated before reaching out for the pocket opposite the one Killer had put to use. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Killer properly. He wrapped his hand around Killer's when he went to try to read it. “Wait. Read it when you get away.” 

Killer nodded and tucked the paper away again. Sarin's hand travelled to wrap around Killer's chin, resting two fingers gently against his jaw. He pulled closer, close enough that Killer could feel his breath on his face. Their eye sockets turned lidded before their teeth came within inches of each other.

Skeleton's farely seldom attempt to kiss, not having the parts necessary, and unable to form ecto-flesh around the face with no specific face in mind, but Sarin moved with confidence and Killer would follow that trait to the end of the earth. 

Sarin's magic reached out for him, wrapping around his skull in a cool mist undetectiable to the blind eye. Killer sunk into the feeling, finding the pressure, the intimacy of the act warm. Sarin pulled away with a happy tilt to his mouth, “Don't miss me.”

“Yes sir,” Killer nodded in agreement and grinned sleazily, “Are you gonna miss me?”

Sarin laughed. “I won't have the time.”

Killer didn't have anything to take with him. He left the book Sarin had given him in the box he had gotten it from a few days ago. In the corners of his eye sockets he could see monsters staring at him, waiting for him to speak or move or do something to do them, but a voice inside his head reassured him that they were not real.

It felt too early when Sarin left, having placed one last tentative kiss on Killer’s cheek. Killer raised his hand to graze the area Sarin had touched. It felt like he was still there.

The flimsy door came open with some struggle from the other side. Dessusus swore when it flung open, and stumbled through. Then, he spotted Killer. He smiled, “You ready, Rin?”

Killer resisted laughing at such a stupid nickname and nodded.

Dessusus wrapped their hand in between Killer's fingers and held onto them tighter than anyone else had before. Not that many people had held his hand in the past. They were usually too busy being unaware of his presence or, alternatively, being tortured for information. For some reason the warmth against each bump of his bones reminded him of.. something from the past. His vision blurred and when he squinted he could see the outline of a fire stretching out from Dessesus's head, colours flickering and ash floating to the ground.

Killer had seen it before, but his mind only pulled up blanks. Who was that? 

To Killer's dismay, Dessesus spoke again. He really would've preferred if they could keep speaking to a minimum, both because if Dessesus asked a question that he couldn't answer with a nod or shake of his head he was totally fucked and also Dessesus had a voice that became very grating very fast.

“I have to admit, I'd always hoped you would bring it up. Running away together. Sounds like a dream, doesn't it?” as they spoke their hand trailed up to Killer's sleeve and grazed his forearm, fingertips so light it made the areas around their fingers tingle. Killer fought to keep his instinctual disgust off his face, in the end most likely ending up with a bored glare that would have intimidated Dessesus enough to release him if they had been looking and not trifling through the black duffle bag they had brought with them.

Killer hummed as a response, hoping it would be enough to get them to stop talking and actually get him out of there.

Unfortunately, Dessesus was nothing if not annoying. Killer wondered if ripping his arm away from them would be out of character or not.

“I was kinda stuck on choosing where to lay low. Not a lot of places out there where we won't be caught by the boss, you know? I go through a lot of trouble for you Rin. Don't forget that,” their tone was light-hearted, teasing, but the words made a small part of him feel something. Something that reminded him of all the ways he could snap Dessesus in two.

They grunted as they pulled a complicated looking robotic cylinder out. “But then I found the perfect one. No security. Cheap rooms. They all know about the multiverse and it reminded me of you. Lucky us, huh?”

If Killer could talk without blowing his chance of escaping he would say something like, “If I was lucky I would've never been created.” but unfortunately he had to keep his broodings to the people in his head. They ignored him too.

“Speaking of how lucky you are to have me. You hear what happened last sunday? Another riot. You'd think your inmates would've learned their lesson by now. Past inmates, I guess,” they mused, too busy messing around with the cylinder to pay Killer much attention. Sarin wasn't kidding about them talking too much.

Maybe if the asylum worked like an actual asylum for the criminally insane there would be less riots. Not just shoving a bunch of monsters into a large room and instead keeping each one in solitary confinement could be a start. Asylumtale’s a shithole.

“Suppose there's no reasoning with crazy, or whatever the saying is,” they muttered underneath their breath. The feeling from another part of Killer grew stronger.

 A dial on the cylinder came into place with a click and Dessesus turned to him with a grin that reminded Killer of a teal eye and sharp teeth, “Let's get outta here, Rin.”

Magic burst out from the cylinder and wrapped around the two monsters, pulling them close before dumping them in the cold, white grass of the underground. Killer rubbed at his eye where he felt a drop of determination leaking and rubbed it in the soil, hoping Dessesus hadn't seen it.

They coughed and rubbed away the snow from their face, displeasure buried in their features. They stopped and glanced up at Killer, a grin on their face, “Here we are, sugar. Welcome to freedom.”

Snow seeped into Sarin's jacket, but Killer didn't feel any colder because of it. He considered shrugging it off for a moment but his soul was shoved in one of the pockets and he doubted it would stay in there if he moved it.

Killer and Dessesus sludged through the snow. There were crowds of monsters, all seemingly overheating, and a familiar scent wafted through the air. Dessesus knew where they were going. They pushed past monsters, not sparing a glance at anyone but to make sure Killer was still following behind them. Halfway through their journey Dessesus resumed their ramblings, going over anything that came to their mind. 

“-course they couldn't actually keep it. Who has time for a birdie these days, am I right? My poor old dog, you remember Poots dontcha? Well I had to give her to my auntie last year. With the boss raising my hours and all I hardly had time for the poor thing. Auntie got arrested a bit after that, hell if I know what she did, but the damn lady got Poots put down,” Dessesus was scowling but as their heavy duty boots stomped holes into the snow they turned a smirk to Killer, their eyes lidded, “But now I don't have a job, now that we've escaped. Means all my attention is just for you, Rin.”

Killer forced a complacent smile onto his face. It was enough to satisfy Dessesus apparently, because they wrapped their hand around his arm again and squeezed tightly. Killer sat through it for the rest of the walk, until they reached a crappy looking motel.

Dessesus ordered him to wait in the corner while they got a key from reception and on their way up to the room the worker laughed at Killer's face. He was not annoyed and one of his eye sockets did not twitch.

Dessessus stepped back to let Killer enter first after unlocking the door. The room was shitty. There was a single bed and a kettle sat on a table with two unsteady legs in the corner, wire snapped. There was a rancid smell in the air. 

“Ugh,” Chara recoiled in disgust. Of course, it wasn’t real so Killer paid it little attention. 

Frisk, on the other hand, smiled reassuringly. Or they would smile reassuringly if they were real. Which they weren't, and Killer knew that. “At least we're out now, right? Nowhere to go but up.”

The door shut and locked. Killer turned to glance back at Dessesus when he was shoved into the wall. It wasn't a very impressive hold, but then, Dessesus was no Nightmare. He quickly tried to forget that he had thought of that name.

Dessesus was in his face, their awful breath joining the rancid room's smell in a quest to destroy Killer's sense of scent. They were taller than him by a lot, but they were hunched down awkwardly to be at eye level. When they spoke it was in a whisper. “I've been thinking of this all night you know.”

A hand trailed up Killer's thigh, pushing his shorts slightly out of place. It didn't feel like when Sarin had done it. A presence made itself known at the edge of his mind. Stage Three. Killer nudged it away. He could handle this himself. He grabbed Dessesus's hand and twisted it in the wrong direction. Dessesus shouted and Killer took the opportunity to knee them into the wall opposite them. They hit it with a slam and crumbled onto the floor, cradling their mangled wrist to their chest.

They screamed, “What the FUCK!” and glared up at him.

Killer reached over for the kettle and bit off the wire from the pot, straightening it in between his fingers before walking back to Dessesus.

They tried to scramble backwards but with the wall behind them they had nowhere to go. Killer had missed this.

He yanked the wire around Dessesus's neck and pulled, just hard enough as to not snap the wire. Their face began to lose colour as they kicked at him, stuttering out their final words, “Let-.. me go- you little slut!”

Very effective. Killer made sure to kick their head when they stopped moving. The ground around them was wet and tears of black joined the puddle of urine building up around the body. Killer wiped at his eyes and looked at the determination that stuck to his finger. His soul had drifted out of the jacket and was now twisting erratically in front of his chest.

His reflection stared up at him from the, frankly disgusting, puddle. He grinned at himself and felt a banging in his head as his soul twisted forward. He felt….

A knock on the door interrupted him and his neck snapped up to look at it. “Hello?” someone spoke through the door, “Is everything alright in there?”

His eyes fell back to Dessesus's dead body and then back to the door again. Then, he jumped into action. He grabbed the sharpest utensil on the two legged table and his eye light shot around the room as he searched for an out. His chest started expanding with heavy breaths. He was panicking and that meant he couldn't stay for much longer. Killer wished Nightmare was there.

The knocking intensified and it was followed by the door knob rattling “Hello?Just let us know you're okay!”

Killer turned towards a small window. He spared a final glance towards Dessesus and climbed out. He landed on his feet, a distant part of him grateful they were only on the first floor. He didn't have time to stick around. He ran for the nearby forest.

With each step his mind slipped further out of his grasp. Slipping through his fingers. He was getting further and further away. He blinked dots out of his vision and buried his finger into his bones. His mind sharped for a second but it didn't last. He was falling apart and he needed to get it together.

Killer ran through the forest until he was so far from the front of his mind they could feel their legs burning. He shut their eye sockets and rubbed away the determination clouding their vision.

He came to a stop without realising it, his body falling to shake beside the shrubbery in the dirt. His bones were quivering and he had no idea why. Perhaps it was the thrill of it. He hadn't killed somebody in so long it was like returning home. Feelings were ridiculous, and Killer was so disconnected from them he didn't like it when the emotions leaked into his brain.

Move, a voice in his mind spat at him. Killer ignored it. He focused on his surroundings. The cold dirt rubbing against his legs. The trees above him, rustling in the wind. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hid his face in them.

It took too long for him to stop freaking out. His body was having reactions to things he wasn't feeling. It was weird, and he didn't like it.

Do it for yourself. Don’t let yourself be taken advantage of, Killer.

..  

Sarin didn't know what he was talking about.

Killer forced himself to stand up. His soul had stopped wriggling around and was a perfect target again. His legs wobbled when he walked, probably from how far he had run from that stupid motel. At least he couldn't feel the burn in them anymore. He looked around the forest. It was covered in snow and most of the plants were dead or dying. He debated staying in the forest until it was time but that sounded like a worse idea than just staying in the asylum. He should do something.

Dessesus had said the monsters here knew about the multiverse. If that was the case, maybe there was someone that he could have a chat with about getting to a different universe.

Killer moved back towards the town. There were less monsters hanging around then there had been before, and most of the ones that were out looked to be heavily intoxicated. It must have been getting late. There was a familiar scent in the air, the same pleasant scent he had smelt earlier, upon first arriving at the universe. Killer followed it and soon saw that he was following a monster.

They were around his height only slightly taller, draped in an unnecessary amount of fabric and walking a little behind another skeleton. This other skeleton was practically the opposite. Clearly shorter than Killer and dressed like there was a heatwave. Killer's eye sockets flickered between the two, watching them walk further across the snowy plane. It wasn't long until they had to turn. And then Killer saw it.

While their eye light may be a different colour, Killer would recognise that scar from anywhere. Cross.

A feeling washed over Killer, so intense he had to stop walking. Cross was in this universe, for some reason. Killer had almost forgotten he existed. Killer wondered what had happened. How they had gotten out. What had happened to him afterwards. He only knew one thing.

This was all Cross's fault.

Killer wanted to scream. His arms shook with rage and the unavoidable need to kill him was so strong he almost started to run after him. Unarmed except for a dull fork  and weak from exertion. Not to mention the magic inhibitor still clinging to him.

Then he caught sight of the skeleton beside Cross, who was smiling up at him. Their teeth moved like they were laughing. And Killer got a new plan.

“You doing alright, honey?” Lust smiled sweetly. Lust worked in the lab alongside this universe's Alphys, who Lust said was called Hiki. During the day Cross would follow Lust around while they worked, intimidating monsters who were looking for ‘fun’ and threatening monsters who were looking for a fight. It was easy, and spending time with Lust was enjoyable.

The lab has multiple floors. It was silver steel, windowless and as ugly on the outside as it was on the inside. The wallpaper was floral and peeling and there were dozens of posters, most teared, with animated characters in explicit positions. It all looked very homoerotic and not at all professional. One was just a wall of black with a line of text stating “Yuri.” which Cross did not understand at all. Someone needed to teach Hiki literally anything about interior decorating.

“I'm fine,” Cross responded, “Are you?”

Lust hummed and adjusted their glasses, “Perfect, darling. Say, you've been working so hard, how about I give you the evening off?”

Cross frowned at them, “What?”

“I don't want you to have to work for the next few weeks constantly, hun, it's not good for you,’ Lust lectured him, “You're taking the evening off. Go to the bar and have fun, whatever you please.

Cross hesitated but under Lust's glare which meant ‘this is non-negotiable’ he ultimately caved and nodded his agreement.

Cross spent that night wandering out from the town. He travelled from a large door to the parameter outside a castle, mentally keeping track of where everything he came across was. Walking cleared his head, and for a few hours it was like he was home again, patrolling before going home to make dinner for his siblings. He missed them.

Thinking about them made his eye sockets burn. When he closed them he used to be able to picture them exactly as they were. But now he was less certain. He couldn't remember if Alphys wore glasses or not. He couldn't remember if Papyrus had sharp teeth or blunt ones and the longer he tried to focus on them the fuzzier the details became. The guilt clawing at his chest was becoming hard to ignore. He stopped at an abandoned wooden stall and slid down to rest his mind. He closed his eye sockets and pressed into the cold hard wood.

Ink.

The thought of him came on suddenly. Ink could not bring them back, but at least he knew that there was a time they existed. The only other person that could remember them was… Chara. Cross wondered what had happened to him. Had he just left Cross for dead in a random universe? But.. how? They were supposed to be stuck together, Cross had taken his soul.

It all was complicated and his mind just drew blanks where there should be memories. Maybe he should be used to that. Whatever. It's not like Cross wanted the insect back or anything, he just would have liked more notice before he was deposited in the alley of a random universe.

Though if anyone was going to dump him in a random alley it would have been Chara so Cross doesn't really know why he was surprised. If anything, this was good.

But when Cross had first woken up on Lust's couch…. It was difficult to remember but Lust had seemed a lot more worried than they were now. It was most likely because Cross was in much better health now and not rotting in an alleyway, but Lust had seemed really worried. Then a thought struck him. Cross had stolen and absorbed Chara’s soul. Could it be possible Chara had taken some of Cross's with him? It was a stretch, but it would make sense.

If that was the case then he was extremely grateful for whatever Lust had done to fix him. If they hadn't found him he would be dust.

No one would notice. No one had looked for him when he was kidnapped. No one would notice if he was dust. That was a bittersweet thought. On one hand it was a reminder. That he was truly alone. On the other hand… he wouldn't be hurting anyone by leaving. Stars know he's done enough.

Cross feels pointless. Originally he had been so angry. At Dream, at Chara. At himself. But now he was just tired.

Eventually the snow soaked through his clothes, leaving fabric to cling to his bones and squelch awkwardly. It was still snowing, it had been all day and there didn't seem to be an end to it in sight. He was an extremely pathetic sight on his walk back to Lust's house. 

Cross neared the front door, raising a hand to knock only for it to creak open with a gust of wind. He hadn't taken Lust as someone to forget to lock their door but he would be lying if he claimed he had never done it himself. He made sure to close it properly behind him.

The living room was in a state of disarray, items knocked over, glass on the floor and furniture out of place. It made Cross stop in his tracks. Something was very wrong.

Magic bubbled up at his fingertips and he kept his footsteps silent as he trailed closer to the kitchen. He was expecting someone had broken in, stolen stuff or trashed the place. But in the kitchen there was nothing but a pile of shiny clothes.

Cross stared at it for what may have been hours. At the holes in the colourful material, at the accessories laying beside them. At the dust that clung to it.

No. No no no no no. This can't have happened, not again. He had to be dreaming. For one moment in his life Cross had finally felt at home again. Back where he had a purpose and a friend. Except nothing remained of Lust but a pile of shiny clothes.

He may have screamed. He may have cried. All he knew was that one second he was standing at the door and the next he was on his knees beside Lust. The gems on their bracelets made Cross come face to face with his reflection. It glimmered with the lightbulb shining bright above him and small specks of dust covered the inner rim. 

Cross didn't know what to do. The walls were nothing more than something that kept him trapped and Cross quickly could feel the way they closed in on him. Cross, kneeling above a pile of dust, a pile that used to be his friend. It was nothing new.

Cross left the house with cold metal clinging to his wrists. Small droplets of purple magic sunk into the snow next to his footprints. Cross rubbed at the corner of his eye sockets with the heel of his palm, an action he was all too used to.

The wind picked up. His scarf kept slapping against trees and the bottom was drenched from the snow. 

A branch snapped behind him and he had a gaster pointed at the monster before he could even turn around to look at them.

For a moment he thought he was hallucinating.


“Killer?”

The skeleton grinned at him.

Cross jumped forward and shoved his elbow into Killer's face with enough force to slam him into the snow. He followed after him and summoned a knife and pointed it at the bottom of his skull. 

Killer was not grinning anymore. “Wait! I don't want to fight!”

Cross's eye sockets narrowed and he applied more pressure to the knife against Killer's skull. “Did you follow me here?”

Killer faltered and looked into Cross's eye lights, “Are you crying?”

It was the tone of voice he said it in that made Cross stop. He didn't sound like he had before. 

“What are you doing here?” Cross asked, not wanting to give Killer a chance to get the upper hand just because of his inflection of all things. “Aren't you supposed to be in Asylumtale?”

Killer laughed, a sound that Cross tried not to flinch or scream at. “Um I left.”

Cross growled, showing his teeth. “Why.”

“Do you like the idea of being stuck in that place for your never ending existence?” Killer retorted and Cross pushed the knife into bone, just to remind Killer of who was in charge in the situation.

Cross scoffed, “My existence isn't never ending. And you need help. You should've stayed.”

Killer's face did something pitiful. “I left because I needed help. That's why I'm here.”

“What?” Cross was dumbfounded. He looked Killer over. There was a prominent bruise on his knee, an area where magic was swelling underneath bone. He was wearing different clothes, ones that looked dirtier and stained in places and on his wrist was a magic inhibitor. Cross stared at it for a while. “And.. you want me to help you?”

Killer at least had the sense to look ashamed, “I'm desperate Cross.”

You tortured me. Is what he wanted to say, but that wasn't right was it? Killer had insisted on his hope to escape every chance he could get. Cross had just assumed it was a tactic to get Cross to trust him. He thinks. It was difficult to remember what he was thinking back then. And he had never hurt Cross the way Nightmare had. He only.. laughed.

“You laughed at me.” 

Killer raised an eye socket. “What?”

“You. Laughed. At. Me.” His teeth grinded against each other as he said it, “He tortured me and you were laughing! And you expect me to help you after that?”

Killer's face fell. “I don't remember that.”

Typical. Cross debated smothering Killer into the snow. Breaking all of his bones and leaving him there. But Lust had helped Cross, hadn't they? And they were gone. A wave of emotion flooded Cross's brain. His face made an awful expression and he peeled himself off Killer. His knife fizzled out of existence and he adjusted the wet sleeves of his jacket.

“What do you want me to do?” Cross asked.

Killer blinked up at him. He sat up and raised his wrist to show the inhibitor, “You got a hammer?”

Chapter Text

Sorting through Lust's belongings was tiring affair. It felt wrong in a way. Was it horribly disrespectful? Maybe. But Cross wasn't going to turn his head on such a substantial amount of resources for no reason. He moved bottles and cartons out of the cabinet that hung above the sink, giving each object close examination before putting them back where he'd found them.

"Can't you just get it over with?" Killer's voice reverberated around the tiny room, strikingly loud in comparison to the gentle clatter of nearly empty bottles tapping against each other. Cross kept his glare to himself and directed his ire to the task at hand; finding something hammer adjacent.

Lust had everything except what he was looking for. Seven cans of pepper spray with no weapons was a little hard to believe.

"I can amputate," Cross bit out, shutting the cabinet with enough force to make the stupid tooth shaped toothbrush holder jump.

Killer shrugged, wiggling around so his legs were crossed where he sat on the closed toilet lid. It was an ear splitting sound that happened every time he so much as shifted and it wasn't doing Cross's temper any favors. "Whatever gets this stupid thing off."

Cross took a moment to calm down. He was the one in control, not Killer. Looking closer at the other skeleton he noticed small scrapes and bruises all over his bones and even a few bite marks. He moved his body weight from leg to another, curiosity paving its way into his mind. "So.. what was Asylumtale like?"

Killer sat with the question, idly turning to nudge the toilet tank's lid back and forth. "It was crowded. Less like a psychiatric prison and more like.. dumping a bunch of psychos in a big box and waiting to see who lives."

Killer spoke of it with a distant look on his face, but his tone seemed almost.. fond? Or something like that. It was difficult to tell with Killer and his ever present grin, the bubbly way he moved and the carefree demeanor he usually carried. He was an enigma and Cross was, admittedly, a bit curious.

"Did you get in fights?" Cross humored the thought. He could almost see it if he focused; Killer tearing monsters that even just looked at him apart, laughing manically over piles and piles of dust.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights the ever present dust was visible. (Most likely not the monster kind, which was thicker and grainier than simple dirt.) (Simple dirt was easier to get off as well.)

The slowly falling particles highlighted by the harsh lights painted Killer as an ominous, picturesque image. A chill shook Cross's spine at the sight of it. Killer's face brought back memories he wished he could forget. Of scalding heat and hazy eyes. Maybe he should open a window.

Killer replied, "Nah. Some guy dragged me around most of the time. I prolly missed out on a buncha action." Killer shrugged, accidentally knocking the tank's lid out of place. There was a clatter like something had fallen, drawing Cross closer to investigate. Killer seemed disinterest until a glimmer of metal caught his eye.

Inside the tank sat a group of small weapons where there probably should've been a small puddle of water. Of course. What else would Lust use a toilet for? It wasn't like skeletons had to expel waste. Cross inwardly scolded himself for not thinking of it sooner.

His eye lights turned to Killer, suspicious, "You didn't take anything did you?"

Killer raised one of his eye sockets, "Did you see me take anything?"

No. He hadn't. And now he was wishing he had been paying closer attention rather than getting caught up in his head. He was off his game and he had to focus. To forget about… everything and make sure he could get out of the situation alive and hopefully with Killer in cuffs. He took in a shaky breath and forced his mind to settle. "Empty your pockets."

Killer groaned but turned out the pockets of his jacket. A fork clattered to the ground alongside a bunch of lint and a paper so crumpled and damp it was almost dissolved. Cross folded his arms in front of his chest. "A fork?"

Killer shrugged, "I got hungry."

Cross confiscated the fork and pulled a face upon noticing a clumpy thing clinging to the prongs. His face scrunched up in disgust. "What is that?"

Killer leaned closer to investigate until his face was only inches away, before clamping his teeth down around the clump and sucking it into his mouth. He summoned a tongue to lick the remnants off the tips of his teeth. Cross pulled the fork away, scandalised, and dropped it back to the floor where it belonged.

Killer turned his face back into one of expectance. "So are you gonna use one of these or what?"

Right. Cross took in the pile. There was no hammer but there was a crowbar. He winced when the sharp light made the metal shine into his eye sockets as he picked it up. "Does this work for you?"

"Just get it off."

The magic inhibitor was thick, difficult to tell where the lines from clicking it closed rested. The object carried weight and Cross knew wearing one made you feel horribly weak. His bones itched just looking at it. He took Killer's arm by the cuff and placed it on the sink counter, holding his hand down to keep it there.

He swallowed around nothing, unexpectedly nervous. It was probably the though of Lust making him freak out. "So if I just.. hit it enough it will crack open?"

Killer hummed, kicking his feet back and forth with his eye sockets fixed on his arm. "Makes sense to me."

Cross tightened his grip on the crowbar. "Shouldn't you look away?"

Killer's skull tilted towards him, a brief glance that carried a message Cross was too preoccupied to decipher. "Are you stalling?"

"I'm not," he shifted, "I was just wondering."

Cross's eye lights continued to burn into the cuffs for a few more seconds. Killer scoffed, "Don't be such a pussy. It's just some metal."

The cuffs' clank echoed in the small room with Cross's first swing. It was a sound akin to that of a bell being rung. It didn't leave a dent. Cross huffed and swung again.

"You're being too careful. Just whack it."

Cross stopped himself before saying something he didn't mean. In truth his soul burnt for Killer to feel even a fraction of the pain Nightmare had inflicted on to him. His hands itched to hurt, hungry for relief.

The next time he swung it was without precision, fueled by a swirl of emotion that plunged out of his chest so he could feel the pressure in the back of his throat. The crowbar narrowly hit the cuff and a scrap, either from the crowbar or the cuff, was flung to the floor.

It was small but it encouraged him for his next hit. He missed, landing a harsh blow to Killer's wrist. Killer didn't move, still staring at his arm like nothing had happened. His unblinking stare and sharp grin forced Cross's eye lights away and with another sharp breath he hit the cuff again.

Swing after swing small shrapnel was thrown about, building in small piles on the floor. Cross didn't spare it any mind. His arms burned from exertion but he knew it was almost off. Magic dripped down his face, his chest expanding rapidly, disrupted every few seconds by the small exclamations that slipped out from his teeth absentmindedly.

The cuff cracked after what could have been hours, vibrant red magic pooled out of it, burning the bone it came into contact with. Cross stopped to catch his breath, readjusting his hold on the crowbar.

Killer moved quickly, curling his fingers into the crack and pulling with enough strength to force it apart. A large piece of the cuff flew to the other side of the room, banging into the wall and falling onto the floor.

They both found themselves unable to take their eye sockets off it, Killer unmoving while Cross was huffing for air.

A bone shot through the closed door, leaving a hole in the wood when it dispersed.

Killer flexed his hand, turning it over to see the entirety of the scar from where the metal was planted into his bone. Magic oozed out of two particularly deep marks. Killer couldn't remember the cuff being put on him, just the sort of numbness that came after. With it removed his mind felt unusually clear. A boulder he didn't know was crushing him had finally been lifted off and forced him into more consciousness than he was used to.

It was a striking difference, and most of all, the numbness had faded. A hiss slipped out as he reached for his own wrist, squeezing against the deep holes. His bone was chipped around where the cuff had been, marks from the vigorous swings Cross had managed.

"..Where are you going now?" Cross asked, full of tact.

Killer continued to leak onto the bathroom floor, considering. He tried to think back to his previous interactions with Cross, struggling for a shred of information, for an opportunity.

"I need to get to the Omega Timeline," Killer admitted.

Cross's shoulders stiffened. "Well good luck with that."

With each drop of magic that hit the floor it being increasingly clear that Killer wasn't leaving.

An expression of annoyance flickered on Cross's face, obviously too nervous around Killer to even consider taking it easy. He slid down the wall to sit across from him, looking as if he had a gun to his head all the while.

A sly grin dragged across Killer’s face. He leaned closer to Cross and said, “So. Who are you?”

Cross didn't play into his banter. He managed to keep most of his unamusement off his face. “You're not funny.”

“Oh come on. I'll go first if it will make you feel better. I show you mine, you show me yours kinda thing,” he winked.

His smile grated. Cross took a deep breath and tried to keep his composure. Something about him just was irritating. He's sure if anyone else so blatantly tried to rile him up he wouldn't fall into their grasp so easily, but the way Killer's voice sounded was enough to make his metaphorical blood boil while rage enough to fuel him for the rest of his life, let alone blatantly mentioning phrases from a time Cross really did not want to remember.

Actually. Thinking of it, everything seemed more annoying since he'd left his universe. Maybe he needed to try and get a hold on his temper. Or maybe alternate versions of himself needed to start being less annoying.

“Do you usually quote yourself so often or do you just think about me so much you remember every single thing you've ever said to me?” Cross rolled his eye lights, mindlessly dragging his fingers over his wrist.

Killer didn't respond, too busy staring into space attentively. It was better that way. Cross found him easier to be around when he could pretend he wasn't actually in the room at all.

With nothing else to look at he stared at the other skeleton, thinking since it was so obvious Killer was not at all in the right mind he would either not care or not notice.

His eye lights took their time, scouring every inch of Killer for differences from the last time he had really taken him in. He can remember thinking of Killer's bones as appearing more like porcelain than bone, but sitting beneath the harsh fluorescent the resemblance to plastic was uncanny.

The thought that Killer may actually be a robot crossed his mind but even he could recognise that was a bit far fetched. Actually. Hm. He can think more about it later. For now it would have to remain nothing more than a brief consideration.

Or course there was the matter of scars practically swallowing Killer whole. The look of them left a sour taste in Cross's mouth, a bitter thing that reminded Cross again of how lucky he was that Lust had taken him in. An unnecessary act of kindness, done for nothing but to protect Cross, a monster Lust had never even met before.

That kind of passion, although uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of, was inspiring. It made Cross want to do something.

"If.." he swallowed and tried again, "You could.. stay here. For a while. Just until you figure out how to get to the Omega Timeline."

Killer looked surprised. Cross rushed to add on, "But only if you help me in return. I.. I want to find out who did this to Lust. If you help me you can stay. Temporarily."

They share a look, one that last too long. Killer cocked his head and clicked his teeth together once. "Does it… matter?"

Cross snarled, "Ungrateful asshole."

Killer raised his hands in surrender, "Whatever. Sure. I'll help you."

"Good!" Cross snapped at him, folding his arms and pressing his back harder against the wall. It was too cold. He wished for a moment that they had agreed to do this in the living room, which would surely be more comfortable.

Killer didn't continue the conversation, which was a relief because Cross was already tired of him. He thought back to only a few hours ago, to how safe he had felt with Lust, someone he had only met a few days ago yet had been so comfortable with.

He remained unblinkingly watching as dust flew around the room, surprised when something wet hit his cheekbone. A pathetic, wet gasp left him, lingering in the air like there was only one monster there to hear it, Cross shut his eye sockets and tried to pretend he was back beneath the tree in the Omega Timeline. Back when loneliness still burnt and he'd jump away when monsters looked for too long.

"Do you want me to go outside or something?"

Cross's eye lights darted up to look at Killer and with an ugly expression on his face he spat, "No. No way I'm leaving you alone. You'll probably- set the house on fire or something."

Especially now that he can use magic again.

They spent hours in the bathroom, attempts to make conversation shot down instantly and during which they both avoided each others eye like the plague. It wasn't until deep voices slid in from outside that Cross had steeled himself enough to actually stand up. Looking out the window it wasn't as dark as it had been the last time he was fully checked into his surroundings, likely the early morning then.

Alright. The first order of business would be trying to find someone with a motive to kill Lust. There had to have been a reason.

"Come on. We're going to see one of Lust's friends."

Killer followed after him with little complaint. Walking through this universe reminded Cross of the Omega Timeline. The crowds of people made him uncomfortable, at least with Lust around he had been able to pretend he belonged there. It wasn't difficult to notice how many monsters stopped to look when two unfamiliar skeletons passed by.

The journey to the Lab took longer than it should have, courtesy of how Cross had been paying more attention to the monsters around them than the directions. Nonetheless they got there by the time the magic stars above had faded and the 'sky' was bright. Cross couldn't remember how the underground worked. At times it was as if he had never even lived the life he knew came before this. Everything was so different, and it had been so long since he was just a little skeleton, walking through the white forests of the underground with his little brother in toe, nothing to worry about but protecting him. He never thought he would miss that motivation for survival. Thinking about his brother made his head hurt and an indescribable knot would build inside him.

An image of Lust alongside another skeleton had rested on the mantelpiece back at the house and he might have burst into tears at the prospect of having to tell his Papyrus exactly what had happened to him if the lab hadn't came into their line of sight as soon as it had crossed his mind.

The walls of fans were an instant relief. Heat was an uncomfortable sensation and he was grateful to be rid of it.

"Hiko?" he called out, lingering by the door (in front of the fans) as to not intrude.

There was no immediate answer, but a series of loud clatters from a few rooms over let Cross know she would be on her way.

Killer looked around like he had never seen anything like the room they loitered in, getting to close to fans and laughing when the hem of his jacket got caught in one of them. Cross gave the tear in the fabric a scathing look, taking in comfort in the fact that he was not the one on the receiving end of it. Still, looking at each scar and tear on Killer's form made him slightly nauseous. Whatever. He had always been slightly neurotic. This was nothing new.

A sliding door opened to see Hiko's hunched over figure. She wore the same lab coat as Cross had seen her in last time, but unlike last time there was a few colourful clips on the top of her head. Her eyes flickered from Cross to Killer. She took half a step back. "W-Who's this?"

Cross gave Killer a look that said to stay put and moved further into the building. "No one important. I'm sorry to bother you but I have some questions about… Sans."

"Why isn't he here? We were supposed to watch- something today.." she became more reserved as she spoke, embarrassment making her face flush a slight red.

"He's sick," Cross blurted, "I'm just a bit worried about him. I mean, why hire a guard unless there's someone after you right?"

"Erm," Hiko scratched her jaw, eyes glued to the floor, "Mm there was a c-couple monsters he got into trouble with a couple months back. B-but that was ages ago. I don't think they'd still be mad about a couple of.. things going missing."

Her hands moved idly as she spoke, slotting into each other every few second.

"Where can I find them?" he asked, determined.

Sweat became visible on Hiko's face while she took a few seconds to think it over. "There's a place b-behind Grillbys they own. B-but I really don't think they're anything to be worried about. Unless Sans told you something. D-did he? I mean.. if anything did happen he would definitely tell me, 'c-cause we're so close. B-but if he forgot to tell me you should do it. In his place. Did he say anything?"

"No. Of course not. Everything's fine."

His words didn't do much to sooth her. A nervous laugh slipped from her tongue and was met with the sound of nothing but the music playing a few walls away. She met his eye and said, "Anything else?"

Cross made sure his voice did not shake while he spoke. "Where does his brother live?"

"Want me to take the back?"

"What?" Cross furrowed his brow, taking his eyes off the shed in the distance. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to find it, something Killer took great joy in teasing him over. Nevertheless they had found it eventually. Perhaps he should've waited until night had fallen again, it certainly would make their intrusion more discreet. But there they were. Huddled in the bushes only a few feet away from a shed full of potential murderers.

So far he could spot six monsters huddled around a round wooden table, their faces a bit blurry from Cross's poor eye sight. A spark of anger flickered around his skull as he watched them scamper around, taking mouthfuls from a bottle they all passed around and loudly shouting jabs at each other. 

"Do. You. Want. Me. To. Take. The. Back." Killer spoke slowly.

Cross rolled his eye lights and settled into his bush. "No. We're waiting for one of them to come out. That's final."

Killer plopped back onto the muck, uncaring of the stains it left on his clothes, "But why? You want revenge, don't you?"

Killer's voice was too grating, Cross decided, and resigned himself to having to sit through the chatter while he tried to focus on more important matters. Maybe he should have just thrown Killer out, Lust's inspirational behavior be damned. Would have been less of a bother, that's for sure. Had Lust felt this way about him? It didn't seem like it, but they had forced him away for a while. Maybe Cross had been asking too much of him. Maybe if he had been less of a bother Lust wouldn't have felt the need to get away from him and Cross could have protected him.

"I do."

"Then why aren't you doing anything?" Killer countered.

Cross shot back a rebuttable, "These things take time. Besides, why do you care? You didn't even know him."

"I know he wouldn't see the point in stalking a bunch of nobodies," came the grumbled response, "Who could?"

Words had too much of an effect on Cross. This was something he knew about himself after the many, many times this had been taken advantage of. But just because he was aware it was happening didn't mean he could stop it.

"Do you ever shut up?" he hissed, clenching his fist in front of his chest.

A herd of wolf-like monsters left Grillbys, yipping at each other and running around in circles. Cross refrained from speaking until all the ruckus got further away.

"Look," he started, "We don't have to talk to each other. Just- focus. Pretend I'm not here and I'll do the same."

"That's just like you. You can't stop two people that hate one another from fighting by saying it 'doesn't have to happen'. Thought you'd have learned that by now," Killer jeered, a glint in his eye sockets that spoke of a secondary meaning.

Cross bristled, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" came the drawn out response. It had Cross sinking in on himself, implications that Killer knew something that he shouldn't. The grinning skeleton continued, "You wouldn't think someone could forget about the reason they got their entire universe destroyed. The more you know."

Cross threw a long knife in his direction as soon as the last word left his mouth, eye lights zeroing in on the new nick it left on his cheek bone. Killer jumped, but his grin turned sinister in the second it took for him to realise what was happening. As soon as his magic had taken the form of a bone in his hand Cross was in front of him, with a kick to his shoulder the bone was thrown away and suddenly Killer's back was pressed to the ground.

Cross shoved his knee into Killer's ribcage to keep him down. "Who told you that? Nightmare?"

Killer tried to force Cross off him to no avail. With each second that ticked by the pressure on his ribs only grew until they were quivering, threatening to snap in half.

"I could get used to the sight of you on top of me," Killer snickered.

Cross snarled, summoning another knife to plunge into Killer's already scarred arm. A crack accompanied the motion, blue magic already flowing out around the weapon. It bubbled up against the foreign object, even more so when Cross turned the handle while inside.

Killer barked out a laugh which turned into a fit of hysterics when spit flew right onto Cross's face.

Cross slammed his free elbow into the side Of Killer's face, "You have no idea what you're talking about."

In a last ditch effort Killer wrapped his hand around Cross's wrist, shaking with the struggle of it. Cross leaned back with a grunt, attempting to wrangle his arm back. Killer used the distraction to jab his knee into Cross's back. The power behind it made Cross loosen his grip on the knife keeping him upright and Killer threw him away from him.

He fell into the muck gracelessly, all air forced out of him. He couldn't see through the millions of particles floating around him but he jumped to his feet, prepared for attack anyways. His head turned to follow every minuscule sound that could be heard.

A series of steps to his left encouraged him to jump into action but-

BANG

A gun was fired only a few steps away from him, loud enough to have been mistaken for a fire work. He turned to see the gang of monsters had left their shed. One of them was were shouting something, but with the high pitched ringing in his skull to Cross it all sounded like gibberish.

Only three of them were approaching, but in the window of the shed he could see some kind of commotion. A large sea horse monster stood at the front, smoking gun in their hand. They spun it around and although his eye lights had made everything blurry Cross could see how it melted into their flesh.

Cross prepared his next attack while the gang of three stepped closer.

They looked powerful, standing like there was no doubt in their mind they would leave this encounter victorious. By then the ringing had died down and he could hear when they said, "Well what do we have here? You spying on us, little guy?"

Cross stood his ground, trying to hide how he was scanning the shrubbery for any sign of Killer.

A large green cat stood to the sea horses right, throwing a ball of magic with an appearance of yarn up and down in their paw. "Don't be shy now. We just weren't expecting a peeping-tom."

The final monster, a colourful parrot tittered, their raspy voice potentially more annoying than Killer's. "How's about we let 'em in on the fun?"

Cross held out his hand on instinct, having prepared the Hack Knife, but a dagger formed instead. He didn't let the surprise distract him, dodging the orange coloured magic that snapped its bird like beak at him. It looked eerily similar to a blaster, only it never shot out a beam of magic. He was relieved that was the case and tore past the balls of yarn the cat was sending his way to swing his dagger at the sea horse.

They took the blow to their side like it was nothing, protected by the armor like plates that grew on them instead of skin. They twisted to wrap him in their tail before sending him to the ground with a huff.

Cross stood quickly, shooting bones around the cat to keep them busy and preparing a set of blasters to go off above them. With a quick look to their HP they should take it without dusting but he needed to be more careful with them after.

While Cross was preoccupied with trying to blow through the sea horses defenses Killer took his chance to strike. He jumped out from the bushes and took a sharp bone of which he had summoned, grabbing the parrot from behind and plunging it into the side of their neck. They squawked and flailed at first but quickly fell limp, turning into dust when the bone was pulled out.

Their LV was low, lower than Killer had been expecting. He half heartily brushed off the dust from his shirt and set his attention onto the cat, who was already low on health.

"Easy EXP."

With a few quick stabs into the gut they were on the ground, gurgling up a storm and kicking their legs in the air like they could fend him off. When their body turned to dust Killer was quick enough to grab their soul before it snapped in half. A shout pulled him out from his admiration of the object.

"What are you doing?" Cross was yelling at him, still swinging a dagger at the panicky sea horse.

Killer laughed, "The same thing as you?"

Cross grabbed the sea horses arm as they pulled out a gun from their flesh again, twisting it in the wrong direction and aiming a kick to their chest. The sea horse flew a few feet away and Cross used the time to properly yell at Killer. "You're dusting them!"

Killer dropped his knife. It disappeared before it could hit the ground. "Didn't they kill your little friend?"

"Yes but-" Cross made a sound, a mix of exasperation and distress, "How could you do that? Killing them- it makes you no better-"

"Oh that's rich," Killer scoffed, "So you can kill your entire family but if I kill a couple of scum I'm evil."

Cross glared at him, hand shaking at his side. "It's not the same."

Killer huffed. "Cross. What were you expecting? My name is Killer. It's just what I do?"

Cross found himself speechless. He fidgeted with the hem of his shorts and fixed his eye light on the snow. The sea horse had ran away, it seemed, banging on the door of the shed like their life depended on it.

"Let's go home."

The living room was small. Cluttered with photos on every square inch of the wall and what looked like a bunch of tiny sculptures all over the place. The messiness reminded Killer of something, although he wasn't sure what. Whatever it was, it made his head heavier and his eye sockets harder to keep open.

A squeak was drawn out of the couch when he dropped himself onto it, a sign of its age. The pillow of it was too soft as well, it left him struggling to even just imagine standing up again. Maybe he was getting old. The topic of his age confused even him, unsure if he should count his birth as when his body was created or when he was created. Either way he didn't know the year, let alone the date. It was better left a mystery, he thinks. Mostly because he finds it hard to care.

There's a pink rug draped over the floor, traveling from beneath the broken (oops) glass table to the couch's hine legs. It's fluffy, Killer remembers slipping on it while he was trying to catch up to the Sans of the Universe in the struggle. Although there was some matted fluff, something akin to slime messing with the texture. Killer wasn't sure if he was responsible for that or not.

A collection of DVDs sat under a dusty television screen, bright letters too far away for Killer to read, even if he wasn't too tired to try to comprehend the English alphabet.

Blobs of black sat in the shards of glass, coming together to take the form of some kind of monster. A child, probably, judging from how small it appeared. It wasn't a skeleton, its white pupils staring holes into the side of Killer's skull.

Killer blinked, even though he didn't need to, and found it hard to open his eye sockets again after. 

“We're tired.”

The unfortunate truth. For something that wasn't created to feel he sure had been doing a lot of it recently.

“We need to get to Nightmare. They will bring us back to normal again.”

An image was pushed into the front of his mind. It was of him on his knees, too weak to stand. Chara was speaking through him, trying to tear into Nightmare fruitlessly. Chara always did that. Tried anything to feel more in power, stuck in a situation where they didn't even have their own body.

“Hypocrite.”

Voices were audible even from the middle of the house. The walls were too thin. He could hear every footstep like they were walking on the roof. High voices speaking nonsense loud enough for everyone to hear. People. Killer was starting to think he didn't like them.

He curled into himself. There was still dust on his clothes. He realised then that he could have easily dusted Cross alongside the gang of monsters. It would have saved him the hassle of having to ‘behave himself.’

“Why didn't you?”

There was an easy answer to that.

“I want to make it hurt.”

His cage clattered against the wall he was bound to. The wind was getting too heavy. The wave was gaining too much momentum, coming in too quickly. 

There was a rumble.

Brick clattered around them, dust making it seem as if there were only the two of them left. 

A knife gleamed.

“Don't be an idiot, Cross.”