Webs and Bones

Meetings

Sans hated what his life had become. He hated the room he slept in, the clothes he wore, the people around him and he hated himself for letting all of this happen.

One genocide run.

He promised himself one genocide to stop the human... No... The demon. He told himself that he would only gather enough LV to overpower the demon that looked like Frisk and reset the timeline himself, ending the loops.

What happened instead? He got himself trapped in another cycle, this time killing all his friends and family for what he believed to be a just cause when in reality he was just entertaining that stupid demon.

"But you also liked it, didn't you? You love the rush that comes when your LV increases."

"Shut up."

"When will you stop lying to yourself, brother?"

"When you are more than just a manifestation of my madness."

That shut up the Phantom Papyrus, at least temporarily. Sans sighed, grateful for the peace, and tried to relax and fall asleep on the bed that felt like it was made out of boulders. The springs in the mattress were worn and stuck out oddly, making the surface uneven and prone to poking whoever lay on it.

No doubt an effort by Nightmare to squeeze just that extra bit of negativity out of them.

As Sans felt sleep take hold of him, and as he began to prepare himself for the horrors of his past that his mind would contour, he was alerted by a rapid knocking on his door.

When the knocking stopped, Sans heard a voice that sounded like his own but more twisted say, "Wake up, Dust. Boss wants all of us in his throne room immediately."

Dust groaned. A meeting with Nightmare meant another mission of killing his friends. It would also mean he had to be in the same room with all the people that he hated. Just great.

Reluctantly, Dust picked himself up from the poor excuse for a bed that he had been lying on. He dragged himself to the door to his room, his cell, picking up his brother's scarf along the way. It was the only article of clothing that he owned that could be considered to be in good condition.

He wrapped it around his 'neck', using it to cover the lower half of his face while his hood covered the top half. He hated it when people could see his face, especially himself.

He opened the door and stepped out into the equally gloomy castle hall with barely any light to fill the neverending darkness. Dust looked around but couldn't find Killer or the red glow of his exposed soul. Must have run off to call the others.

Despite the lack of knife-wielding lunatics, there was one other Sans in the area. Dust found it ironic how, despite coming from a timeline where Monster kind was starving, Horror was the tallest Sand in the castle. Dust's theory was that Horror's LV manifested in making him more intimidating to his prey, much like how his appearance reflected his goal to gain Determination and Killer being twisted into something he wasn't before.

"Hey Dust," Horror greeted him.

They didn't make eye contact. It was always so difficult to look into the eyes of someone who was you but at the same time was so different.

When the two had met, it wasn't pretty. Horror didn't like either him or Killer which Dust thought was reasonable. Horror was the only Sans in this castle that never killed his brother in some way. So he naturally detested those who did. Dust never bothered to defend himself after that first meeting.

He hated himself for what he did as well.

Over time, the two had gained a sort of tolerance for each other. They realised that despite their differences, they were likely the two most reasonable individuals in this stupid castle.