Chapter Text
«I’ll come back, brother. I promise.»
And he always did.
Day number one hundred and forty-six survived, if he had counted correctly. One hundred and forty-six days ago they didn’t only lose their allies but their friends. For one hundred and forty-six days they’ve fought against those they had trusted most. That's why war was weird. You’re never betrayed by your enemies but your friends. By those who once said they cared.
Sans drew another line on the wall of his house. Some wouldn't even call it a proper house. Its roof leaked during the rains. The only light was provided by candles and a small fireplace at the back of the room. One of the windows had broken glass and planks had been nailed over it to keep the heat inside. It was mostly a shelter. And it wasn't even fully his. But it was the closest thing to a home he had. It was the only place he could call home.
He took a few steps back to see the whole picture. Over time, he had carved one line to correspond to one day they had spent in this chaos. It made him realize how long this had been going on. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Would months turn into years? The fact was, that they’d been at war with humankind for months, no matter how short a time it felt like.
Sans returned to the present when he heard a glass bottle break. He looked for the source of the sound and noticed Alphys at the small table in the corner of the house, looking at the floor where a broken bottle was leaking clear liquid. Before Alphys could apologize, Sans was already there picking up glass shards. «Don't worry about it, I’ll clean.»
«Thank you.» Alphys' muffled voice was heard. Sans should be grateful they had Alphys. Over the months he had learned to appreciate her work more. The cures she invented filled the gaps their magic couldn't fill. And everything she spent her time on was for their good, even if not everyone always saw it.
Out there their people were fighting for their freedom. For their home. And their job… It was to keep everyone alive. For some reason, Sans was exceptionally good at healing magic. It was a gift many people said. A gift that came with a cost. He knew death better than anyone else. He felt how death haunted every corner of this house. Turning into dust what was once a living soul. He would live with it as long as his soul could bear it.
Even though he didn't say it out loud, he was bitter that he wasn't there to fight. But he had been told, more times than he could count, that he would be more useful this way. Half of him truly wanted to help, but the other half wanted to make humans pay for their betrayal. But he had accepted a long time ago that his place was not in the field. His place was here. Within these walls.
He was so lost in thought that he soon realized he was picking up nothing but air from the floor. He made sure not a single chip was left on the floor before taking the remaining pieces into a small basket. There were lots of pieces of glass of different colors and sizes at the bottom of the basket, they could melt it down and reuse it later. In these days, nothing even slightly useful was allowed to be thrown away. You never knew when a material would run out.
Alphys was about to drop another bottle when a loud bang from the door shook the whole house. Soon they saw a soldier, his brother, carrying a second one. He didn't have time to relax when he saw that his brother was okay before the familiar need to help took over his thoughts. At first glance, the second monster's injuries didn't even seem that bad, a few bruises and small cuts here and there. But he had learned that when someone was brought to them, there was more to it than what first appeared. Sans noticed a small layer of dust on his armor. This soldier’s time was running out. The question is what caused this?
«Bring him here and quickly!» He hurried to a low table, the other one carrying his friend behind him. «Tell me what happened.» He said when his brother seated his friend. He started to remove his armor to see more closely. «Shot by an arrow, looks like he took it out by himself.» His brother said while ensuring that his friend remained upright for as long as needed. When opening the armor's straps, Sans examined the patient and when he got the chest plate off he noticed the wound made by the arrow. Stars…
The arrow had completely pierced the monster's body right next to his soul. Just a couple of centimeters, that's how close he was to death. As Sans watched, his armor got more dust on it. It didn't take long before a green light glowed around his hands and the wound. Taking the pain away was always the first thing. Because if they lost him, at least he could leave without pain. His magic wouldn't fully heal this. He could prevent the injury from taking his life, but even magic had its limits. Sometimes it worried him how little even his magic could do in the end.
«I’m sor-» The soldier tried to speak but Sans cut him off. «Stay quiet, my friend.» Talking would be of no use. What kind of arrows did humans use? The arrow must have hit from behind, right to the point that his armor didn’t protect. Sans cursed their weak equipment. Humans had an advantage; they were prepared. And monsters weren’t. But they had survived this far, so they would survive from now on. There would come a time when they would win.
There were many times when he thought about what their lives would be like without this. They could live in harmony like all the previous years. All of them. Humans and monsters. Why did everything have to change? What scared him the most was that they couldn't know when this would end. How much more blood would be shed? How many people's dust would dance with the wind? How many bodies would be left to the feet of a battle? How many lives would peace require?
The wound had not yet healed, and the chances of it healing properly were slim. But at least no more dust appeared. He would survive, but it was close to being different. Sans could almost feel death in the corners of the house, waiting for a new soul that would fail. He wouldn't give it that satisfaction. Death would remain in the shadows, far from others, if it intended to stay in this house.
He had done everything he could. Now, only time could heal. The wound was almost closed, but it would become infected if left like that. With a little help from gravitation magic he got a small dark blue glass bottle from the shelf. Sans could see the soldier wanted to say something, but he was glad he maintained silence. «The arrow almost pierced your soul, you almost dusted», He popped the bottle open and poured a few drops onto the wound before he continued. «You stay still, and here, until we can take you to a safer place to recover.»
«Now», He didn't stand up yet but turned his gaze to the other one. «Are you okay?» He examined him looking for injuries he didn't tell him about. His brother said, «I’m fine.» Sans had heard that sentence so many times only to later find it to be a lie that he didn't believe it. «Are you sure?» He had every right to be worried. He had a right to be worried when his family and friends were fighting for their lives.
They had had this conversation many times before. Every time Papyrus returned they had this conversation. Papyrus answered before Sans could continue asking questions. «I’m fine, really. I came back, just as I promised.» He had promised to come back. And he did, just like every time. But Sans had learned a long time ago that promises were made to be broken. Every promise would break at some point, you just never knew when. «I know, but there's a chance one day you don't.» He didn't want to talk about Papyrus', or anyone else's, possible death, but somehow the topic always came up.
«Hey, we don’t talk about that.» This was his sign to let it be. They were safe and alive, and that was the most important thing. «Fine.» Sans said as he walked back to the shelf where he had taken the blue bottle. The wall shelf was full of various small bottles filled with different liquids. Almost all of Alphys’ inventions. This time he took out a clear bottle containing an orange-brown liquid. He poured it into another bottle. He returned to his patient and placed the bottle next to him. «When you leave here, take this with you. If the wound gets infected, this will help.»
«And don't lose it.» He added in a tone of voice that would let the soldier know he was serious. Every drop of any medicine should be used wisely. And especially not leaving it lying around. The soldier nodded and turned to Papyrus. As if reading his friend's mind, Papyrus understood from his friend's gaze that he should get going. «You need to leave, right?» As much as Sans would like to keep his brother at home, he just had to accept that he couldn't. Papyrus seemed to know what he was thinking. «Yeah, I don't know when I can come here again, we may be gone for a few weeks. But I promise to come back.»
«Okay.» A few weeks wouldn't be so bad. At this point they saw each other so rarely that this shouldn't feel like anything. But of course it’d feel like something. Their only way to communicate was through letters. Letters meant for soldiers were delivered to them, but it could take weeks for them to arrive. «Be safe.» Papyrus stepped forward and hugged his older brother. «I promise.» He whispered. Papyrus nodded and smiled to Alphys and before he disappeared into the darkening evening, he said his usual promise. «I’ll come back, brother.» Now he just had to trust that he wouldn't have to break his promise this time either.
This world was broken, but at least they had each other.