At the end of a Genocide Run Frisk couldn't Reset and everyone was left dead. But where do the monsters go once they die? Will Sans find peace after all the suffering or will his demons follow him in the afterlife?
The original Undertale characters...
Sans dragged himself along the path. Breath short. An arm dangling along his side. He was hurt. Tired. Limping from his right leg. He was covered in bruises and marrow. But he couldn't stop. Couldn't rest. He wouldn't. He had something to do. Someone to find. And he would. Should he cross all the demon realm again. His eyelights went out for a moment and he staggered. He was so tired. He only wanted to sleep and never wake up again. But no. Even when dead he had to fight. Even when dead he had to suffer. The universe could not afford to give him some rest. Of course not. To easy. He was resigned to a life of torments. That was fine. He was used to it by now. But there was one thing he couldn't go on without. Papyrus. His little brother. Sans needed him. More that he could put into words. He was his sun. His light in the darkness. The only thing that kept him going. That kept him from fall into desperation. And Sans wanted to see him again. So he continued to drag himself into the dirth of that desolate land, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be attacked in the next few hours. That the other demons would leave him alone at least until his wounds improved a little. Heh. His hope had died a long time ago. The only thing that remained was the distance that separated him from his brother. He was going to make it smaller and smaller, until it was gone. Step after step. Farther and farther and farther ...
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Sans slowly opened his eyes. He must have passed out from exhaustion. His body felt stiff and groggy. Everything was heavy and slow. Like when moving in the water. With some effort he managad to sit up and look around. He was in the deep of a forest. The vegetation was rich and luxuriant. Beyond the treetops he could see the morning sky. It was still very early. The sun had not yet risen. He could still make out some of the stars. They formed strange constellations that he had never seen before. He was amazed by that. His curious and scientific nature telling him to study them. Or it would if he wasn't in the situation he was in. At the moment the only thing they remind him was that he really wasn't in the Underground anymore. But it wasn't the Surface either. Oh no. He had been there and it was nothing quite like this. This was the word after death: the afterlife. More precisely the place that went by the name of Heaven. It consist of a great number of islands floating in the sky. They differed in size and shape. Some were large like countries, others no bigger than a rock. In the larger ones the inhabitants had built their towns and villages. Yes, the inhabitants were angels. The beautiful and blessed creatures of light and joy. They moved from place to place flying with their feathered fluffy wings. Everyone would think that if Sans was in Heaven, he must be an angel too. Heh. No. Of course not. He was a demon. With a pair of pointed horns and bony wings. His magic formed a thin membrane between the bones and if looked through close it could be seen the spinning and circling of cyan magic. Always moving and emanating a soft light. Someone would say it was beautiful to look at, but not Sans. He hated it. He hated its wings, its horns and the long tail which from his lower spine went all the way down to the ground and ended in a pointed and sharp triangle. He hated with all his soul being a demon. Because all the others of his friends and family were angels. Yes, he was the only one. Destined to be alone even after death. It was to be expected, really. He was far too full of negative emotions to be reborn as an angel. First with the experiments and tortures of Dr. Gaster, then with Flowey, Frisk and the Resets. So much hate, pain, desperation ... Sans had learned a thing or two from his time in the afterlife. It seems that angers and demons are born depending on the emotions that monsters have on the verge of death. Positive ones lead to salvation, while negative ones to damnation. What kind of emotions would you expect from someone tortured for endless time and then killed, again and again and again ... The funny thing was that after death everyone would forget of their mortal life. No memory whatsoever, only their name. But like for a lot of things, Sans was an exception. He remembered. Like always, he remembered every little thing of that tragic life of his. Him, who wanted to forget with all his soul. Heh. what a irony. The memory were impressed with fire in his soul. The evidences of that were clear on the little organ. Its size was smaller than what was healthy, his luce dim and barely there. Multiple cracks covered it like a web. Sans often wondered how it was still whole and not shattering in millions of pieces. Of course he knew the answer: Papyrus. Always Papyrus. But now he wasn't with him and the cracks never felt so deep and painful. This had to stop. He was going to find his brother and never let go again. They would stay together forever. Or Sans would likely die. Sans shook himself out of his thoughts. A task that was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day. And stood up. He shivered. The frost had accumulated on his bones and clothes after a night out in the open. By now he was accustomed to it. Never had a decent bed since the day he woke up as a demon. Or a decent meal for all that mattered. He had gone by with berries and small animals that he managed to find along his path. And those weren't a lot. Not that he needed food to live. Not really. He was dead after all. He was immortal now. Well, if someone didn't kill him, that's it. In that sense, he needed it to replenish his magic reserves. It seemed that his body was able to create his own magic to keep him alive, but not enough to be used in other tasks. Like bone constructions or shortcuts. So, he had to eat to store it for later use. He had always had deep magical reserves even while alive, but it had been days since his last meal. He was about to run dry. And he couldn't afford it. He needed to be able to use his magic to defend himself. Like every demon he had woken up in the demon realm and unfortunately the inhabitants weren't so friendly. He was attacked almost daily. No chance to resolve it with words. As if it wasn't enough then place was a wasteland. It was situated under the floating islands of the Heaven and it was a world of darkness, screams and pain. It consisted of an endless series of galleries that went deed in the earth. It would almost resemble the Underground, if it wasn't so much more vast and gloomy. And food was scarce there. It was one of the many reasons why demons infiltrated and ravaged Heaven so much. No food meant no magic and it was not a wise thing to be defenseless in a place that was kill or be killed. Sans had been beated and almost perished a lot of time. And he could gladly go without for the rest of his life if possible. Perishing, for an immortal being was sort of like dying, only without the 'reborn thing'. Body and soul would get erased from existence. Not even ashes would remain. It was not quite like Gaster fate. People would still remember him, but he would be nowhere in the universe. Chased to exist. Sans stepped over the big gnarled root under which he had sought refuge for the night. It was time to continue his journey.
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He started walking, making his way through the thick vegetation. Soon he reached the end of the floating island he was on. It was a relatively small one, with no residents and only a forest on it. The perfect place to hide from the angels patrolling the sky. Sans looked around. No one. Perfect. He took some time to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to do. His gaze fixed on the landscape and his goal. The island he was on was surrounded by tree other ones. On the northeast was another small island with only a lookout tower on it. The west was occupied by a larger one with lakes and rivers. Waterfalls threw themselves into the void below and evaporated before reaching the cursed ground of the land of demons kilometers under it. The water glistened in the first rays of the sun. It was a nature reserve of sorts. At least that was what he had managed to gather in the last city he had 'visited'. He had overheard a couple of angel talking about it. Apparently it was a famous tourist destination. Sans couldn't care less. Nowdays he couldn't find beauty in anything. His mind focused only on the one person he was missing. All of his attention was held by the enormous island that stretched for miles and miles under him. More precisely by the far away city. That particular island was called Central Island, because it was the most important place in the Heaven. It was situated in the center of their domain and was where the capital was located. First Home, that was its name. Yeah, monsters were bad at naming things even in the afterlife. It was a very big city, surrounded and protected by a tall and massive wall. Sentries patrolled heavily the area at every hours. There were only four entrances, one for every cardinal point. And every one of them had guards who inspected every single person who entered. Despite all those restrictions, the city was chaotic and lively. It radiated an aura of happiness and joy that spread for miles. For a weak demon it could likely be fatal. Demons craved pain and destruction and that holy place went against all they were. But Sans wasn't like every other demon. Even if it didn't seem like it, he was an hight class demon. So, he hardly felt anything. Even after death his stats were abysmally low, (stuck in that miserable 1HP), but his magic was strong. Besides, he also had his mortal memories, that allowed him to appreciate positive feelings. He just had a vague sense of discomfort. Easy to ignore. Sans looked hopefully at the city. It would take him at least a day or two to reach it on foot. He couldn't fly and risk to be seen by the angels. They would attack him and probably perish him. No more, thanks. The only options he had was to hide himself in the forest that surrounded the city. It was a long walk. But first he had to reach it. Sans took a deep breath. His fingers curling and uncurling nervously. Despite having done the same thing numerous times already, he seemed to never get used to it. After all, a wrong move and he would die. He gathered his courage, reached the edge of the island he was on and jumped down. The force of gravity immediately took hold of him and dragged him to the far away ground. Sans let himself fall: he had to be fast, if he wanted to elude the patrolling squad. From afar he could be mistaken for a rock. The air lashed violently against the small body. For a terrible moment Sans was overwhelmed by the force and roar of the wind. He fought to keep his eyes open and the breath in his non-existent lungs. His soul was beating frantically in his chest. Finally he regained control of his body and fixed his gaze on the treetops fast approaching. It was time for the hard part. He would need timing and accuracy. At only few meters of them, he spread his wings as much as he could. The sudden movement sent jolt of pain into his shoulders. He gritted his teeth and suppressed a groan. In the same moment he used blue magic on himself to abruptly slow his fall to an halt. He was only half a meter above the ground. He let himself fall to the ground on all fours, gasping for air. He hate doing this, but he should consider himself lucky, really. He could have crashed into a branch. Considering the landing a success Sans let himself relax and started inspecting his wings. They were sore, but nothing was broken (this time). He looked around for dangers. He couldn't let his guard down. Finding none he stood up and walked into the depths of the forest. Maybe he would find some fruit for lunch this time.
