The Underground was unnervingly silent, save for the occasional sound of faint, crackling embers from Grillby’s bar. Sans lay slumped in his room, the quiet ticking of a clock the only thing accompanying him. Sleep had been elusive recently, but tonight it managed to take hold—dragging him down into the depths of his subconscious.

He woke with a start.

The room was dark, but his senses were still reeling from the dream. His eye socket flared blue, glowing fiercely in the pitch-black space. His breathing was erratic, shallow. He could still feel them—feel Chara. They were here. They had to be.

The faint sound of footsteps caught his ear. He turned sharply, adrenaline coursing through him. His vision was still clouded with dream-induced rage.

Without thinking, he summoned a bone in his grip, his voice low and trembling.

“Thought ya were gone for good this time, huh? Wrong move, kid.” The blue hue cast eerie shadows as he sent the attack spiraling forward.

But it wasn’t Chara. It was Grillby. Or rather... you.

The bone whizzed past, grazing your side as it lodged itself into the wall behind you. The heat from your flames flared instinctively in defense, the room briefly illuminated in a flickering orange glow. You froze, staring at Sans, whose sockets were wide with realization and terror as his glowing eye slowly dimmed.

“Wha—Grillbz?!” His voice cracked as he stumbled back, his attack fading entirely “I—I thought you were...” He trailed off, his hands trembling.

He looked at you, the guilt and horror painted across his face almost tangible. He seemed so small in that moment, so broken.

“Ah, geez... I... didn’t mean... I thought... I—” His voice faltered. The words stuck in his throat.

The silence between you stretched painfully, broken only by the faint crackling of your flames