Sans didn't know where they were going, nor how long it would take to get there, nor how (Y/N) knew where to go. Hell, he didn't even know why he was helping her; not entirely, anyway.
Sure, he had an address, but that didn't tell him what the place looked like, the surrounding area, the landscape. His GPS told him 2 hours, but he knew for a fact it didn't account for traffic (he could fix it if he really wanted to, but he had far more important things to do). Papyrus was in danger, and he'd slaughter anyone that tried to hurt him, but that didn't explain the flutter in his chest or the tightness in his stomach.
'Determination,' (Y/N) had said when he voiced his concerns, 'determination to save everyone, or at least your brother. It's determination, pure and simple, my dear boy.'
Well, if it was determination, he didn't like it. It made him horribly uncomfortable, to sit and drive when he could be doing something, like killing that stupid bitch who dared to touch my little brother, to hurt people who had nothing to do with this, THAT FUCKER WILL BURN IN HELL - he hadn't even realized how far into the other lane he had drifted. Moving back to the proper lane, he shot a glance at his detective partner.
(Y/N) had asked him, before they left, if she could stop at the room to change; not one to fight in a dress, and since they had no idea how long they'd be there for, she wanted to bring a backpack with. He patiently waited in the car for her, tapping at the steering wheel to soothe himself.
She came back nearly twenty minutes later, looking far calmer than before. She had also asked if they could take her car, so they drove to the station to get it (which may have involved breaking in to get the keys from her bosses desk, but Sans couldn't say). She had asked if he wanted to stop to get clothes, but he declined, cracking a joke about skeletons and the weather.
So, they hopped in her car, a very nice, older model Impala. She rattled off an address and slid down in her seat, closing her eyes.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
Sans had already been driving for an hour. It was late, past eleven, the road deserted, night foggy. He was battling a slip, the psychotic side trying to break free and murder whoever was closest; had it been a normal situation, he would have let it. But it was (Y/N), his little (N/N), and so he had no choice but to tough it out.
It was difficult, with many slips, but what choice did he have? The road was blurring before his eyes, lines doubling over, things tinged a cobalt blue. He was falling, falling into a pit of rage, pure, unbridled rage. He tried to stop it, he really did.
But how could Alice keep from falling down the rabbit hole?
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(Y/N) was never one for pleasant dreams. Sure, she'd love to say she had a wonderful dream of her childhood, interacting with her favorite characters, having lunch with Shakespeare. Something pleasant, but that was hardly the case. More often, she woke up from a vivid dream that involved her death; or, worse, her being the perp of a merciless, senseless slaughter.
Not this time. No, her dream was filled with a goofy Sans, lovingly holding her as they lay on a picnic blanket. She was making a flower crown, one of which she was already wearing. Sans was telling her shitty puns, tracing patterns on her bare skin from where her shirt rode up. She giggled, finishing the last of the crown. Laying back more firmly against his chest, she placed the crown on Sans' head. She had to tilt her head rather awkwardly, but it was worth it to see Sans' flustered face. He kissed her nose, much to her delight. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, laughing happily. He hugged her tighter, kissing along her neck. She squirmed around, nearly headbutting the man. He laughed, moving to tickle her sides. She fell off him, protecting her sides, still giggling. He pulled her back onto him, wrapping her arms and legs around her writhing form. They were both laughing. Something told (Y/N) this wouldn't last much longer.
She groggily woke up, a yawn fighting its way from her throat. Tired, cold, sore, those were all accurate adjectives to describe her in those moments. She sat up straight, stretching her arms above her head. Slumping back against her seat, she looked at Sans.
His face was tinged blue, eyes shifting back and forth rapidly, fingers tapping and body shifting, large smile on his face. It made her nervous. "Sans," she asked softly, "are you feeling alright?"
He nodded, refusing to meet her gaze.
"Sans, come on. If there's something wrong, you can tell me. You know that."
He growled, gripping the wheel harder. His face melted into one of anger and hatred. "Yeah, sure."
"You don't sound all too sure," she fired back. He growled even louder. "Do you wanna get some sleep? I can drive the rest of the way," she offered. Something was definitely off, it was just a matter of finding what it was.
"I don't want to sleep, I want to eviscerate you and smear your organs on a wall for everyone to see!" He snapped, turning to look at her. His eyes were alive with a crazy light, his scowl unbearably sickening.
She really didn't know how to respond to that. His more psychotic side must have come out to play, oh goodie. With no other ideas, she hit his pressure point.
He passed out instantly.
Had she not had to do a similar thing several times in her life, she very well may have crashed. Thankfully, it came as second nature to her. It was difficult, but she managed to pull over, shove him across the bench to the passanger seat, and move to the driver's side. She pulled off her jacket and layed it over him, feeling his forehead. Warm, but not enough to be concerning. The blue to his cheeks was scaring the crap out of her, but it was fading away. There were bigger fish to fry, sure, but that didn't alleviate her fears.
There wasn't much for her to do, though. All she could hope for was that he'd feel better when he woke up. So, (Y/N) did what came naturally; turned on some (rock band of choice), drum along to the beat, and hope Hitler hadn't killed anyone. Oh what a life this is.
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(A/N: I'm gonna cut this off here, only because I don't want the chapter getting too long; my phone starts lagging really badly at anything over 1,000 and this is 1,140-something. The media featured is something I drew, after seeing a picture of the same thing. Why I redrew that, I don't know, but I did. So deal with it. Yes, it sucks, like this story, but oh well.)
