Welcome Home, Serial Killer

Chapter 18 - Intruder Alert

His feet ached. Papyrus kept crying, loud and obnoxious, causing Sans to wince. His feet ached, his brother wouldn't stop crying and now Sans was sick. He sniffed, bones shivering as his magic flared up. Everything hurt, it sucked, and he was... all alone.

Then shoes stepped in front of him in the snowy domain of the Underground. Dress shoes.

He looked up slowly. Black, slick dress pants. Further. A dark suit and red tie. And, at the top, a faceless head. Pale. Bald. Looking down at him.

Sans woke up gasping.

He clutched at the front of his pajama shirt as he gasped, sucking in air. One, two, three. His bones felt raw with magic and his eye socket was flaring up. He didn't scream, nor cry. It was just a shocked gasp that had escaped him. Desperate for breath as if it was stolen from him.

What the fuck was that? Why did he have a dream about that man in his childhood? How dare he taint his already awful childhood?

Sans sighed, running a hand down his skull to calm his nerves. No. He promised himself he wouldn't look at that man like Undyne looked at them. He knew they were different. And he couldn't judge them like she did, considering his own past.

Maybe that's why he dreamed of him there. It was his own subconscious telling him that he was no better. And that, at the end of the day, Sans would take this mysterious tall man over his Dad any day.

"Alright, I'll be honest, I was expecting a nightmare. Slenderman does do that to you."

There was a woman in his room. And not in the good way.

She was standing by the windowsill, arms crossed, watching him in careful movements. She certainly did look different from all of the other killers Sans has seen so far. While they all had more rugged looks to them, hers was more eloquent and refined.

Slick black hair ran down in soft waves, framing her soft, burnt pale face. Her eyes were dark, like an empty ocean, and similarly painted lips parted slightly in a smile. Her dress matched the color scheme, framing the woman's obvious curves and leaving not much to the imagination. Her heels lifted her already tall structure an inch higher.

She seemed... like a ghost, if that made sense. A whisper of the dark night outside that somehow created a siren like form within his room.

Sans didn't know why the hell that came to mind, but he was still rather sleepy from whatever fucking dream he just had, and hey, she was hot. You couldn't pop both of those onto him at the same time while he was still groggy.

"Do you break into guys rooms often?" Sans asked.

"Quite. Though mostly it's for robbing or murder, can't exactly say my reasoning this time is a usual for me," She admitted. A hand outstretched towards him. "How about we take a walk?"

Sans eyed the hand. "And I'm guessing you don't usually take guys out for walks?"

"No. This is a special occasion. Why not do some new things?"

He wasn't sure what to think. If anything, she was probably trying to lure him out to get him away from his serial killer friends. He wouldn't put it past her.

"Why should I?"

She tilted her head and shot back her answer. "Why shouldn't you? You live with serial killers, and those being emotionally unstable teenagers or children on top of it. I doubt safety if your number one concern right now. And I'm not here to kill you. I would have done so in your sleep."