Welcome Home, Serial Killer

Chapter 22 - Let's Play That Didn't Happen

Sharp, clawed hands rested on the floor as the man grunted, arching his back above the skeleton to take the weight of the building around them. One of those hands trailed up to cup the skeletons face, who passed out from pain and adrenaline overload, while the other hand reached to grab his box.

Gray eyes, cold and empty, dragged up to stare at the weight he was carrying. Not easy to do. It would have crushed the bones below him, but the clown could take it easily. A human might have survived, but an unprotected skeleton would have definitely perished.

Finally, when he managed to get a hold on his box and skeleton, he held them both close to his chest and let a puff of smoke consume them. When the smoke cleared, they were gone, causing the debris to finally tumble down into the once taken space.

~~~~~~

It was the footsteps he heard.

When you were a serial killer who snuck into houses, hearing footsteps was always your worst enemy, so you learned to listen very quickly. Larger, demanding footsteps screamed trouble. Soft, hesitant ones called out a victim.

These weren't loud nor soft. They were... nothing. Sans' footsteps were different. They were open, unprepared, as if never expecting an attack despite being strong enough to take one. A constant shuffle of slippers dragging across carpet or wood. These stomped steadily, in a slow yet strong pace. So that clearly wasn't Sans. It wasn't anyone's that Jeff had heard before.

When the clown stepped into the room, he knew exactly who it was. The clown was a legend amongst CreepyPasta, as he was one of the few that could actually scare Slenderman. Sealed within a box to protect the world and CreepyPasta alike.

That man was freakishly tall. Easily breaking nine foot, practically bent over from the lack of room within Sans' house. If Jeff was scary, this guy was terrifying. Wearing nothing but monochrome clown clothing, with thick black hair and a spiraling cone nose. However, what was in his arms was what caused Jeff to shout from shock. Sans. Eyes closed, breathing unstable as he was sweating, and a bandaged leg dangling out past the clowns elbow.

Of course Jeff had been concerned, Sans had been gone all day. It was now well past midnight. He was considering just going out to Papyrus' house, holding him at knife point, and demanding to know where Sans was.

"Sans, he's - why are you holding - but he's - what?" Jeff went back and forth, unable to clear and focus his thought as to what the hell was going on.

"The restaurant they went to collapsed, so I took Sans outside to be picked up by an ambulance. Once they got him fixed up I waited until the doctors and nurses left before I brought him here." Laughing Jack tilted his head, giving a sharp toothed grin, then started to make his way up to Sans' bedroom.

"Wait, you can't just leave with that!" Jeff shouted, chasing after him. "You got -"

Suddenly, a hand shot out, harshly grabbing Jeff's cut cheeks and pressing them together. A thumb on one, his middle finger on another. His face was now mere inches away.

"You're going to wake up my little skeleton," He hissed.

Yup, okay. He swallowed thickly, taking a step back with a slight tremble. Okay.

Despite that, he eyed Sans again. Other than his leg and sweat covered bones, along with his deep gasping breaths, he didn't seem injured.

Laughing Jack turned around briskly and continued his journey. By now, everyone inside of the house had heard Jeff's shout and came running. Once the clown reached Sans' room, he laid down the skeleton underneath the blankets, before resting his skull atop of his lap. His hand started to pet him, long and gentle, like Sans was some sort of kitten.