When it came to humans, Sans hadn’t expected much.
After living life on repeat at the hands of a human child he didn’t have the greatest opinion of the species. Four years of living on the Surface hadn’t improved his opinion.
Monsters were made of love, hope, and compassion.
Sans had a theory that humans were made of greed, suspicion, and fear.
Or maybe he was just lucky and got all the shit ones.
His current owner, an angry old man who had wanted a babysitter in for his retirement, was dragging him to an auction house. He kept ranting about what a useless waste of space the skeleton was.
Sans followed with his hoodie up and bare skeletal feet scuffing along the hard pavement.
“Why I ever wasted money on you in the first place … ” the old man growled.
He had been ranting for the last fifteen minutes, winding himself into an angry frenzy.
“S’not my fault you spent your money on trash,” Sans snarked.
The old man snapped.
It was a good thing Sans paid more attention to his surroundings than people thought.
It was an especially good thing he was excellent at dodging.
The old man whipped his cane at where Sans had been, missing the skeleton as he jumped out of the way. The monster thought that would be it, but the old man’s anger wasn’t going to let them disengage.
The old man began to swing his cane around like a club, trying to catch Sans with it.
A crowd began to gather.
Sans wasn’t surprised.
Humans surrounded the dueling pair, pulling out cellphones, laughing and joking. Sans thought he could hear someone taking bets.
Most of them were against him.
One thing Sans had learned quickly on the Surface was that humans did not fight fair. They didn’t take turns, they didn’t wait for their opponent to summon an attack or block.
Not that the skeleton could summon an attack against a human anyway. The collars prevented it.
All he could do was dodge, and he couldn’t dodge forever. He was already reaching his limit, his energy and magic low.
He ducked a swing and danced back a few steps.
He ran into a leg that wasn’t there when he started his retreat.
Another way humans didn’t fight fair: It was rarely a one-on-one fight when a human was attacking a monster.
The skeleton fell.
He put his hands out to catch himself, but the ground wasn’t there. He landed on the edge of the sidewalk and couldn’t compensate for the extra foot of air.
His weight landed heavily on his wrist, which twisted and buckled under him.
He felt it snap under the stress.
He hissed through his teeth, trying to keep his face neutral through the pain.
He couldn’t deal with an injury right now. He had to get back up, keep dodging.
The emotion in the crowd shifted from entertained to vengeful. Cheers and good natured heckling turned to jeers and calls for violence against him.
His hood had fallen back. Many in the crowd were just realizing he wasn’t some punk kid.
He was a monster.
He tried to ignore them.
He had to dodge until the old guy ran out of steam. Then they could keep going to the auction house and Sans could be traded away.
Maybe he’d actually end up with someone tolerable.
“Stay still and take it !” The old man screamed.
Sans hadn’t expected that .
He felt the collar accept the command. His control over his own body was overridden. Every joint went stiff, locking him in place.
His magic, his very essence was torn from his control and he became a passenger in his own body, unable to move.
The old man raised his cane.
It was a waking nightmare. Sleep paralysis turned to eleven, made worse by the fact that it was real.
Sans’ mind screamed at him to do something, anything.
Attack.
Dodge.
Block.
Move.
His mind fought against his locked body.
All he could do was watch as the cane reached its zenith.
He let his vision go dark, not wanting to see his death coming.
True death, this time. No saves, no resets. No waking up in his room in Snowdin, safe and whole.
Such a stupid way to die.
Sans hadn’t expected help.
The sound of flesh against flesh.
Another shift in the emotion of the crowd.
No pain.
Sans looked and found the old man had turned his back to the monster.
He didn’t understand.
How was he still alive?
A voice, rough and feminine and filled with mirthless laughter.
“Well, that’s one way to greet a new friend.”
Sans listened to the exchange in confusion. Slowly, painfully slowly, he began to realize what had happened.
The feminine voice had intervened. She had been attacked in his stead. Now they were arguing about police and assault.
As the old man’s intent shifted from controlling the skeleton the command eased. Sans was able to move again.
He didn’t pull himself to his feet, instead shifting to get more comfortable as the exchange took place.
Why stand when he didn’t need to?
He wasn’t sure his legs could hold him at the moment anyway.
He was shaking hard enough that his bones were rattling. He had come close to death before, he had died before (in another time, in a world that no longer existed).
The adrenaline of near death was always overwhelming.
He reached for his magic, reassuring himself that it was still there. That it would still respond to him.
That even if the collar could tear it from him it would come back.
He tried to tell himself he wouldn’t always be helpless.
He focused on breathing.
His rattling eased until he was only shivering slightly. His bones no longer imitated maracas.
“Take the money and the skeleton!” The angry man shouted. Sans looked up, surprised by his sudden inclusion in the conversation.
The old man had turned to point at him, and he could see the girl who had saved his boney ass.
She was a young adult, maybe in college, with short dark hair and large dark eyes. She was dressed plainly, wearing a hoodie similar to his own. Old, rough around the edges, well worn and well loved.
And if looks could kill, the old man would have long since passed on. The girl practically radiated hatred and anger like heat as she glared at him.
He seemed oblivious to her mood. He had pulled a folder of paperwork from his briefcase and was holding it out to her.
Sans snorted as he recognized the papers. Another street transfer.
It wasn’t the first time he had been traded like a baseball card. It wouldn’t be the last.
Honestly, this was preferable to being stuck in an auction house. Those places were depressing.
Sans looked at the girl, sizing her up. He wondered how long she would last with him.
Older folk tended to keep him around longer. Their age granted them the patience and mulish determination to put up with the worst of his bullshit. They wanted to prove something. Force him to submit.
Giving him up would mean defeat.
Younger people didn’t last as long.
Sans gave the girl a week, tops, before she did the exact same thing the old guy had been on his way to do. Selling the skeleton off to an auction house or a dealer, getting him out of her hair forever.
College Chick was his sixth owner in a month.
A new personal record.
Sans sat at the bar, eating fries and a burger that weren’t quite as great as what he ate at Grillby’s. They were still the best thing he had eaten in months.
It didn’t hurt that it was the first food he had eaten in well over a week.
The skeleton and the elemental talked about better days. They reminisced about Snowdin. Recounted the story of how the kid saved everyone.
Remembered the hope everyone had when monsters had finally, finally reached the Surface.
Remembered his own hope when he realized that this time it was going to last.
They caught each other up on friends from the Underground, although there wasn’t much to share.
Muffet was nearby, working in a bakery.
Alphys had been missing for years. There was still no information about where she had gone.
Undyne was missing and a fugitive. Wanted, dead or alive.
Asgore and Toriel had both disappeared. Both presumed dead.
Frisk had vanished.
They spoke around the truth. Neither wanted to ask about the most important people in their lives.
It was Sans who finally broke the trance.
“That circus … ” he started, voice soft. Grillby’s flamed dimmed, knowing the question on his friend’s mind. “Paps was there too, right?”
The fire elemental nodded, but looked away. “ … I don’t know where he is now.”
Sans gave a half hearted chuckle and a resigned shrug, laying his head on his arms. “Didn’t think you would. … Figured it might be worth it to ask.”
The pair were silent for a moment, then Sans asked, “What about Pyre?”
“I don’t know,” Grillby said with a sigh. “I can only hope she’s safe.”
The skeleton nodded in grim understanding. That was all he could do with Papyrus.
That was all anyone who had lost their family to the Slavery Act could do. Hope their missing loved ones were safe. Hope they would meet again.
Hope they would live long enough to see one another.
The bartender was pulled away by other customers, leaving Sans to sit and think.
He was still in shock.
He had come way too close to dying. He was rescued like a damsel by some college kid who now owned him.
That same kid had dragged him to a dive bar where he found one of his oldest friends. A friend he hadn’t seen in years.
He looked at his wrist, fully healed from the monster candy.
Why did she have monster candy? Did she already have a monster at home?
College Chick wandered back up to the counter, causing Grillby to return to refill her drink. Sans tried to figure out how much she had already had, but with Grillby watering it down he wasn’t certain.
All he knew was she was wasted.
He hoped she didn’t get like this every night.
Drunk humans were incredibly stupid. He had more than his fair share of being dragged into their nonsense.
As she wandered away, sipping her drink and giggling at her phone, Sans pointed a thumb at her.
“What’s up with her?”
Grillby sparked a little in surprise, then thought about his response.
“She is a good person,” he eventually signed.
“A good person who accepted a slave off the street,” Sans said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
“A good person who wanted to help you,” Grillby responded.
“Didn’t need help,” the skeleton grumbled. The bartender flared a little, not believing him for a moment.
“Give her a chance,” Grillby said. “She’s not a bad person. She’s helped me.”
Sans raised an eye at that, wondering how the girl could have possibly helped the elemental.
The cynical part of him helpfully added that she obviously hadn’t helped enough. Grillby still had that stupid fucking collar around his neck.
The more reasonable part, almost too soft for him to notice, gently reminded him that there was only so much one person could do.
The skeleton sighed. “Fine. I’ll give her a chance. Just don’t be surprised when she sells me off in a week.”
Sans looked at the apartment and then back at the drunk girl who was barely keeping her balance as she took off her shoes.
It was quite the juxtaposition.
She shrugged and waved at him to follow her on a tour.
“Kitchen and living room,” she slurred with a vague wave at the open front area of the apartment. The living room had a big window on one side, which looked to lead out to an unused balcony.
College Chick opened doors as she walked down the hallway.
“Spare, office, spare, my room, bathroom, other bathroom. Pick whichever room you want.”
She unlocked her own room and disappeared inside for a moment, and Sans looked at the two spares.
Both were pretty bare bones, only furnished with a mattress on the floor.
The light pollution was horrible in Ebott City, but he could still see the brighter stars. If she wasn’t going to tell him which room he had to take, he would take the one with the balcony.
It would be nice to watch the stars when he couldn’t sleep.
“Hey, Bone Dude? The girl called out. Sans teleported to the kitchen, appearing right behind her.
She turned, screamed, and dropped what she was holding. Bottles of pills.
He had to admit he was impressed by how quickly she regained her composure. She picked up the bottles and went right back to what she had been doing.
“You said the old bastard lied about you needing to eat?”
Sans nodded.
She muttered something and waved at the kitchen. “Kitchen and pantry are open to you. I don’t have much, but anything I have is yours.”
Sans stared at her as she turned away to fumble the bottles open. He looked at the refrigerator.
The skeleton had more than his fair share of human owners. Some had been better than others.
None had ever given him full access to their kitchen.
“ … anything?” Sans asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, anything,” she said. She pushed him gently out of the way, opening the fridge and pulling out a plastic water bottle. She was still slurring, but either he was starting to understand her or she was sobering up. Her speech was becoming clearer. “If you use up the last of something or want anything specific, write it down for me. I’ll try to get it next time I do a grocery run. Which’ll be next Sunday. The list’s on the door.”
Sans had stopped listening and was just … staring. Taking in the sight of food. The knowledge that he could eat any of it. He was allowed.
College Chick waved a hand in front of his face, breaking his silent reverie. “Don’t let all the penguins out.”
Sans closed the door with a grunt and looked around.
He tried to push down the hope that this would last. That maybe she wouldn’t get sick of him.
Maybe he could stay here.
He knew it was empty hope.
She said something, soft and gentle, that he didn’t hear at first.
“This is your home, now.”
It was too much. Sans shut down.
Don’t get attached.
It won’t last.
Sans wasn’t asleep when College Chick – Theresa – had started moving around again. He had been on the balcony of the spare room, watching Venus traverse the sky.
He didn’t know the time – he had no watch or clock to reference – but he knew it was early .
Very early.
Didn’t humans need sleep?
Theresa had a quick shower and was in the kitchen by the time Sans wandered back inside. He teleported directly to the kitchen, finding himself behind her again. He glanced at the stovetop clock.
4:13
She was taking a piece of toast out of the toaster.
“You’re up early,” Sans said.
He hadn’t meant to scare her, and he hadn’t expected her to throw the bread at him like a weapon. He jumped a foot over as the bread flew by and watched as it disappeared into the dark apartment.
“Guess that bread is … toast?” he asked.
The girl groaned, but he could hear the laughter in her voice. It made him think of Papyrus a little.
“Make a pun that bad this early again and you’ll be toast.”
Sans snorted.
“Fuck yeah,” the girl muttered as she turned away from him. Before he could consider a response she whirled around, pointing at his nasal cavity.
“Fuck no! I have to go to work!”
Sans blinked, thrown by the sudden change in her demeanor.
Plenty of his previous humans had worked. Usually they left him in their homes alone, often with a list of chores to have done by the time they returned.
“And?” he asked, truly lost.
Theresa turned and grabbed the remaining slice of toast and tore it in half. She held part of it out to Sans while she started ranting.
“I can’t leave you here. You’re not on the lease. I don’t even know if this place allows monsters? I mean I’m pretty sure they do … but I’m pretty sure they have to be on the lease. And I can’t have a stranger just … in my home while I’m gone.”
Sans couldn’t think of a response. He was staring at the bread she held out to him while she ranted.
He couldn’t figure out what she wanted
He couldn’t figure her out.
She had offered him the bigger half.
It won’t last.
Tiny Raven 
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