FurtherDown

Prologue

    As Sans laid there on the cold, tiled floors of Judgement Hall, he realized something. That this battle, this tiring, exasperating battle that he and Frisk were fighting, was just beginning. The small, four-foot monster could feel an eerie feeling crawling through and around his bones. The feeling that something bigger was lurking, festering in the dark, was obnoxious and left him a little lightheaded.

    The cracks in his skull made his head feel like it was ablaze. Like hammers, no, jackhammers, chipping away at his fragile skull. Like a steel ball, bouncing around the inside of his head. In other words, the cracks hurt. But, -due to the lack of facial features and muscles- the blank expression that covered Sans' face showed no signs of pain. His eyes, empty and hollow, yawned over his face, while his usual comical grin had shriveled up into a grim, stale, frown.

    Frisk's sobbing, which was muffled by his dirtied, white tee shirt, was hard and miserable. The poor child's frame shook with each sob. He could feel her tight, determined grip on his shirt, tightening with each sob. Sans opened his eye sockets, closed them, then reopened them, letting the soft glow of his white pupils light up his eyes once more. He heaved a big sigh, signaling that he was still alive to Frisk. The fall could've nearly killed him, given that he was left with a traumatizing .37/1 HP. Actually, Sans thought to himself, come to think of it, I should've been dead... How am I still alive? Sans' thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Frisk's gasp.

    She immediately rose from her miserable position, loosening her strained grip from Sans. Sans could feel her eyes scanning over him as he lay still. His eyes, lazy, unfocused and unmoving, stared thoughtfully out into the distance, past the pillars. Sans blinked again to refocus, his thoughts surrounding Frisk. 

    "Sans?" the child called out. Sans grunted in response as he slowly rose. He winced at the stabbing pain that attacked him as he moved. His joints ached, body somewhat numb, and head still pounding, but he managed.

    Once he was upright, Sans was greeted by a spooked Frisk, quickly gathering him up in her arms. It's not that Sans didn't want to be hugged, it's just that when Flowey dropped him, he fell from quite a height. Almost 17 feet, assuming that Judgement Hall is 20 feet high floor to ceiling. He landed on his right arm and shoulder and the impact left his shoulder, arm, and shoulder blade sore, along with a few of his ribs. Frisk clutched him tightly as if he might disappear at any moment, leaving only a pile of dust. He also thought he could feel a fracture or two in some of his ribs. Sans held his breath as pain overtook him and washed over him like a 10-foot wave crashing down onto the sand. The skeleton flinched. 

    "K-kid," Sans rasped. "L-look, I understand how ya feel, but, could ya maybe loosen up a bit? I'm in a great deal of pain right now," he said shakily.

    Frisk let go, allowing Sans to exhale the breath he'd been holding in, slumping down weakly. 

   "Sorry," Frisk said in a small voice. Sans looked down to see tears streaming down her small, tired face as he'd never seen before. Her face couldn't hide any longer how worried and hurt she was. The tears seemed to be never-ending. He had seen Frisk cry before, but never like this. He could hear the misery and panic in her sobs. He knew he had scared her, he knew Flowey had scared her, but most of all, he knew that she blamed herself for all of his and her pain. His face softened towards her. Sans raised a cold, shaky skeletal hand to the crying child's face and caressed her left cheek affectionately. Using his thumb to wipe away her hot, steamy tears, she closed her eyes and sunk into his small hand. Watching Frisk place her soft, warm hand on his cold, hard hand, Sans almost wanted to cry himself. He had never seen Frisk so sorrowful, dejected, wretched, and he had no idea how to handle a situation like this. The way she leaned into him, her small body begging to be held, her tears needing to be wiped. 

    "Frisk, buddy, I-I'm so sorry... this is my fault. But you did the right thing, and I'm proud of ya. You were very strong. But, if I hadn't been so darn weak, I could've protected you better. Instead, I just seemed to have made things worse. Now Paps and Tori are probably worried sick...heh, they'll never let me take care of you again. I'm s-so sorry." Sans sputtered, eye sockets watering. Frisk was looking up at him, concern creased in her face, innocence in her eyes, worry glazed over them. She took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers, and shook her head 'no'. "Huh?" Sans questioned. "What do you m-mean? Of course, i-it's my fault kid I-" Frisk put a finger up to his teeth, stopping him mid-sentence. She drew in a breath, then let it out slowly, and opened her mouth. 

    "Don't blame yourself. It couldn't be helped. You did the right thing by trying to preserve your last bit of magic and strength. I'm really flattered though that you were willing to use your last bit of strength to fight for me, I really appreciate that. It means a lot to me." Frisk said beaming. A small smile spread across her face. Sans, stunned that she spoke so much as even a sentence, didn't respond. Frisk almost never spoke, she was mostly quiet and listened to everyone around her. In Sans' opinion, that was her best quality. Instead of keeping her waiting, he let a grin spread across his face and took the trembling child in for a hug. Wrapping his frail arms around her small, quivering frame, Frisk let out a small gasp of surprise and delight. Frisk embraced him and almost melted into Sans.

    But the serenity didn't last long. Sans, so wrapped up in Frisk and the moment, soon sensed they were not alone. He felt a pair of beady eyes burning a hole into him which made his spine tremble with tremors. Cautiously, he looked over to his right, only to see Flowey awake, and smiling widely. Needless to say, his face seemed to get more distorted and ugly looking each time Sans looked at him. That sneer he was wearing, was, unsettling, to say the least. Sans felt another chill go down his spine. Ire bubbled up within his soul, emitting a blue glow from his chest and a faint tint of blue in his eye. Instinctively, he pressed Frisk closer to him, clutching her, willing himself to settle. Don't you worry buddy, I'm not about to lose you again... I've gotcha. Sans told Frisk within his head. His body felt tired, weak and feeble, and was in no condition to fight another round, but his soul said otherwise. He promptly began to fall in and out of consciousness, losing himself in his overworked body. His HP began to fall, slowly. The fragile skeleton had reached his limit, at least, he thought he had.

    Suddenly, Sans felt a pulse-like pattern of energy being pumped into his non-existent circulatory system and throughout his quaking body. Each one intensifying by the second. It felt like it was coming from his chest, but he couldn't quite pinpoint where it was coming from because the feeling was so overwhelming. It was like someone had set fire to his insides until he felt a sudden strength within him, he never knew he had. Left eye ablaze, Frisk in arms, renewed strength, and Sans was all ready to put up another fight. With adrenaline flowing through him like a river during a flood, Sans looked over at Flowey with an icy cold glare. Flowey was dangling from the ceiling once again, ready to fight. Sans narrowed his eye sockets to show he was serious and ambitious. The Forgotten had taken over Flowey's body once more; they let out a shrieking, bloodcurdling, amused laugh. 

    "Ready for Round 2, you pathetic piece of Trash?" They beckoned, impersonating Flowey. Frisk lifted her head from Sans chest to look up into their vile, sinister eyes; her mouth dropped open to see The Forgotten's return. Quickly snaking her arms around her dear friend, the little girl retreated back into Sans's shirt. "I don't blame you for that one bit, kiddo." he thought to himself. Sans looked up at the mutant; the concoction of souls staring right back at him expectingly. 

    "As ready as I'll ever be." Sans finally responded. He felt his soul sink a little bit further into his chest, whispering threats to The Forgotten as he finally fell unconscious.