Just me and my serial killers

Chapter 2

Seeing yellow eyes on the other side of his front door had brought his little fantasy world crashing down.

Sans knew it was bound to. He knew he was on borrowed time. That Frisk would eventually find him, that resets would catch up and he'd have to talk about them. That, even with his time as a Judge and his tracks pretty covered for his less-than-legal activities of hosting serial killers, Sans was on borrowed time.

What a cluster fuck, huh? Sans really didn't know when to keep digging. Maybe he was never bound to have a normal life, fate was certain of that. Born as an experiment who had to claw his way out to freedom with snarling grows and sharp teeth only to discover a second, bigger cage waiting for him, with an infant in his hands and absolutely no experience on how to care for something so tiny and vulnerable.

He did try. He really did. Sans was just a kid, though. A kid who managed to barely scrape past getting shoved into the overcrowded fostering system of the Underground with luck and a few connections. Fuck if he knew how to raise a kid, but he tried to teach Papyrus how to live as he taught himself. Sacrificed himself in a repeat of resets and bloodshed to try and keep his brothers innocence, the only thing keeping Sans from calling it quits with a bullet to his skull, frankly. Only to discover, once they finally escaped to the surface, that apparently Sans had fucked it up so badly that Papyrus left him in a building to die.

It wasn't solely his fault, he knew that. He was a kid with no parents, and barely any support, who just escaped from a basement of experiments and test tubes and was worth nothing more than his magic capabilities. And it wasn't all Papyrus' fault either, since he had just grown into the overabundance of lavishing attention Sans thrust upon him out of his own trauma. Sans watered him, of course, Papyrus would grow under the rain. If anyone was to be blamed fully, it was the fucked up Scientist who wore stupid glasses and decided that incubating two children into experiments was a perfect idea and would have absolutely no repercussions whatsoever.

Yeah, safe to say that certainly was not the outcome.

Either way, Sans' life was always bound for a fucked up road from the start. It was his birthright. He tried in the lab, and he failed. He tried with Papyrus, and he failed. Happiness from others was something difficult and fleeting because when they left, he was just as sad and broken as before. Sans had to build confidence and joy in himself first, and that was... a process.

Finally, a new life came around with the craving for family and support that was wholeheartedly given to him. Though, luck never was on Sans' side to begin with, so of course it was from serial killers of all things. Not that he cared. From being born to kill to being trained as the Royal Judge, and having a murder of his own in his back pocket, his moral opinions were just as monochrome as his tall clown boyfriend he very much adored. So when Smile Dog had given him soft reassurances and support, appearing as the first stable rock in years of his shitty life, Sans started to yearn for more. And more he was given. The slippery slope of disappearing finally had a rope, and he was being brought out.

Even if that rope was held by killers. Death wasn't as permanent when most of your life was spent in a time loop, and Sans found himself caring less and less about other people every day. They were just as broken and needy as him, so how could he judge when he was no better than them? If anything, Sans was just better at self-control and hiding. If resets were remembered by people other than himself, he likely would've been thrown into jail years ago for some of the fucked up shit he's done when consequences didn't matter.

Like bloodied, empty yellow eyes cold on a corpse. The murder of a child.

A child who was a little curious shit who didn't take no and reset time and time again. A little child who, mind you, tormented him until depression was more of a fact of life than anything else. And a child that had shown up on his front porch, no prompting, with a set smile and curious eyes.