Before the Storm ( Sans x Reader )

17. Rising Storm

Sans awoke in a world of white.

If there was hell, he reflected, than this certainly was where all the damned creatures in creation were sent to go, a world of white that knew no end of beginning, a world that was not bound to the laws of science or man. There was nothing here, no signs of life or even death. Just nothing.

The sight was enough to drive anyone mad.

He did not know what he had done to end up here, why his actions would have damned his soul to end up in hell. Had his actions not been pure, created a world and future that was free of the scientist, a world where the experiments of the scientist would be nothing more than a distant memory, no damned skeleton to ever endure such a hell ever again? Surely that was a feat of heroism?

The comedian was not sure how long he wandered in this world of white. He did not know what he was looking for, if he expected to see some other fool trapped down here too just as he was. There was so much pain here, so much silence, the way that this world of white seemed t be judging his every action, his every movement.

"It wasn't my fault!" He screamed at the world of white, not understanding why he was here, why he was being punished in such a manner. "I saved them all, I saved everyone!"

The pain was becoming too much to bear, the way that insanity seemed to be chipping away at his mind, the way that he felt as if this world of white would swallow him whole at any given moment, forever seal him in a white tomb where he would be forced to remain for the rest of eternity, which was an even worse fate as this world seemed to have no time.

Emotions, how he was beginning to despise him! They were nothing more than small flies that were intent on buzzing in his ear, reminders that he was probably going to spend the rest of infinity wandering in this white hallways, forever living out a punishment for some unknow crime that he had committed during his time in his universe.

His mind wandered back to the universe that he seemed to now be banished from, the universe he had spent so much time trying to protect and save. What was it like now, he wondered? Was it safe from the scientist, were Papyrus and (Y/n) alive somewhere there, living out lives without pain or suffering, oblivious to the fact that Sans had been the one to free them from the hell they had been trapped inside for so long? Did they even remember him at all?

The skeleton could not do this any longer, allow his mind to be troubled by such thoughts and feelings and worries. He did not know how he knew what to do, but he found himself reaching into his chest, his hand wrapping around his own soul that no longer was combined with (Y/n)'s and ripped the damned thing from his chest, throwing it onto the white ground below, watching in sadistic fascination as it did not fade from view but instead floated atop without perishing.

For in the world of white there is no time, no life and no death. The laws that govern the universes do not rule here and thus the comedian's soul did not crack, did not die as monster souls usually do.

Sans did not think that he cared. In fact, there was a strange numbness that had filled his mind the moment he had ripped the soul from his chest, as if every emotion that had once raged through his mind was suddenly cleared like it had never been there in the first place. And how liberating it was to not be plagued with the troubles and worries of the present!

Without a care or a second thought towards what he had done, Sans left behind his soul, no longer wondering why he was here, what had happened to cast him into this hell. He might have wandered in silent numbness for several centuries or perhaps just minutes before he caught sight of a figure in the distance.