Reborn As A Dust Sans [Undertale Multiverse]

Ch1 - Reborn

Ashe's POV

You remembered darkness. You remembered pain. You remembered the breath that escaped from your lungs as water engulfed your aching body. The gentle bubbles of oxygen as they floated away. 

You remembered seeing the beauty of rolling blue skies before you plummeted into the watery depths below, only able to watch helplessly as that sight was consumed by the harsh blue ocean, drifting to a blackness as you sunk deeper and deeper into the abyss.

The emotions that had gripped you then were so strong that they hurt, the sorrow and loneliness and anguish so deep that it drowned out any fear even in the face of death. This had been an intentional end your suffering, a final act of desperation, and there was relief knowing that the pain of living could not follow through in death.

As your life slowly faded away into the nothingness, slipping through your grasp like grains of sand, the only thing you wished was that you did not have to be alone in your final moments. That if there was a life after this, you would not have to endure it all on your own like you had this one. You couldn’t bare to live this life, but if there was a god, you hoped they would be merciful for once and let you have peace.

Death came quickly. It was empty. Quiet. All consuming.

But then you awoke once again, when you knew you should not have been capable of doing so. 

You choked on a pained gasp, desperate for air even though you were no longer beneath the waves. You could still feel the rush of water all around you, taste the salty sea as it choked you, feel the agony of breathlessness all over again. Everything felt so wrong, wrong, wrong!

You knew you died. It was a fact. You didn’t just pass out, no, you were absolutely certain that you had died when you threw yourself into the ocean. So why were you suddenly awake, still feeling the echoes of pain? Why did your eyes open to the dull grey ceiling, and why could you hear the gentle falling of snow beyond these bland walls, and why could you feel the softness of blankets draped over your body? Why??

Not knowing when you had even sat yourself up, you threw the blankets off your body, your legs feeling too sensitive to the sensation right now. Gazing down to your trembling hands only caused the consuming overwhelm of emotions to worsen. It was an impossible sight that you were met with ; instead of flesh and muscle and skin, your gaze settled on hands that were entirely skeletal in nature.

Carpus to metacarpus to phalanges, each bone interconnected smoothly together, no flesh or sinew to guide your movement. Your fingers were pointed and sharp, the tips stained black as though smudged with charcoal, the chips adorning them looking much like the type of nicks you would get from a sharp blade.

Panic continuing to rise, you shoved the dusty sleeves of your faded blue hoody up your elbows to expose the rest of your arms. You could identify the bones, the radius and ulna, each with cracks and gashes from a fight since passed, just as skeletal as your hands had been, just as clearly yours.

Even moving the hoodie from your chest revealed a skeletal ribcage, a dull little inverted heart glowing gently from behind the sternum. It was your soul, you realised, a tiny little thing with a deep crack running down the centre as though it threatened to snap in half at the slightest touch.

You couldn’t bear the sight. You shoved the hood down and tried to hide away your skeletal hands from your vision, squeezing your eyes closed so tight that it stung. This wasn’t your body. You weren’t meant to be a skeleton! You were meant to be human! Not that it mattered, you were meant to be dead! You wanted to be dead!

Breath strangled in your throat, your hands reactively shot up to your throat in desperation, tears building in your sockets and streaming down your face in silent terror. Pointed phalanges brushed against sensitive vertebrae, the foreign sensations terrifying and unnatural. There was no warmth to your bones, no softness like flesh, and the guttural sound that escaped you sounded like a dying animal.

You could hear your own bones as they begun to rattle against eachother from your intense trembling, making you all too aware of being in a body that did not feel like your own. You found yourself on the ground instead of on the bed, on your hands and knees, throwing up a vile black substance that made your mouth and throat burn. You didn’t even have a throat!

You threw up again, sobbing, barely able to breathe, desperate for this nightmare reality to melt away into something less unfamiliar and terrifying. But every passing moment made it devastatingly clear that this was reality, and a reality that you would be forced to endure and adjust to.

Why? Why, why, why?  All you wanted was an end to your suffering, and now a peaceful death had been robbed from you. You couldn’t do this, not alone, not again! Fear and anguish took hold of your very soul and you clawed at yourself, feeling the sensation of blood or whatever this body bled as your claws cut into your bone.

“BROTHER? ARE YOU OKAY?” A familiar voice called out, their voice like echoes of the wind, a low rasp that made them seem ghostly and ethereal. You didn't recognise it, yet you did, and it was confusing. Why did everything have to be so damn confusing?

Your gaze immediately tore from the charcoal-vomit stained floors and towards the person who had spoke. It was a skeleton, or more specifically, the floating grey skull of one. They had deep black sockets, their tattered scarf and gloves a deep black in color. Why was he so familiar? 

The shock of seeing this phantom stranger was enough to tear you from your panic, even if only partially. You were left frozen, no longer clawing at yourself, but struggling to process the reality before you. You knew that face. You knew that person, even if you had never met them in your entire life.

“Pa....p....y..?” you managed to choked out. 

“OF COURSE ITS THE GREAT PAPYRUS! YOU DIDN’T FORGET YOUR SUPER COOL BROTHER, DID YOU?” He let out with a sort of nervous sounsinf chuckle, gaze washing over you as though he took in your broken, distressed state. “NYEH... YOU DON’T SEEM SO OKAY... WHAT’S WRONG, BROTHER? HOW DO I HELP YOU?”

If he was Papyrus, and he was referring to you as his brother, did that make you the Sans? Or at least, the Sans of this world? And why did he look like a strange monochrome version of phantom papyrus, the variant that haunted DustTale Sans?

No, no, no, no! This- this couldn’t be real! This couldn’t possibly real!