Save Point (Sans x Reader)

Chapter Fifty-Two, Part Two

“What did you do to him?” you ask, looking at the guards and later towards Jessie, not bothering to mask your anger. “Why is he like this?”

“Dunno,” Jessie replies, shrugging. “Just talked some sense into him, and he got all pissed at me. The guards here were trying to check what was up with him, but none of the medics here know how to care for whatever he has.” They stop to grin, eyeing you up and down. “He was being too idealistic,” they continue. “Marrying you? We both know that wasn’t as magical as he thinks it is, but I can’t blame him. . . You’re looking as good as when I first met you. Word of advice, though? Don’t keep up whatever it is you have with those monsters if you want to stay sane longer.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if people like you didn't make my life so difficult," you retort, body tense and voice matching it. "We were legally divorced when you decided to stalk me for making friends with monsters."

"And you were illegally making friends with them, even when you knew you had Faust as your responsibility -- Maybe the city allows you to do whatever the Hell you want, but you still belong to this town."

"He was our responsibility, but you were rarely there. And you only showed up when I started getting close with Sans."

"It was for your own good, (Y/N). You were and still are letting yourself go to waste with someone like him. Why not date that Mettaton guy instead? At least he looks like he'd know how to take you in bed."

Repulsed, you hold back the urge to take the argument further, seeing Sans's face almost entirely covered by the fog.

"Whatever you say, it's my life. I didn't marry you so you could own it -- We were supposed to do the opposite."

"What? Feel free?" they taunt, grinning wider and leaning forward in their seat. "Who the hell even told you marriage's a form of freedom? That's just what idealistic people think. It’s a burden to many and a responsibility to few -- And you’re actually supposed to devote yourself to that person when you're married, not turn against me the way you did."

"That would've only worked if it meant both people would do the same."

"Are you saying I never cared about you?"

"I’m not sure what to think anymore."

A door closing and approaching footsteps let you know someone else’s stepped into the waiting room, helping break the argument -- the resentment bubbling between you. You look towards the person, seeing the judge standing with an additional pair of guards by her side. She orders them to grab Jessie, the other two responsible for looking after Sans and them helping follow those orders.

“Please allow (L/N) and Sans some privacy. I can watch over them on my own.”

“You sure, ma’am?” a guard asks, directing a concerned look at her. “One of us can stay -- just in case.”

“I am certain,” she persists, nodding. “And please take Jessie back with you. I do not want them near (L/N) any longer.”

“Right away,” another guard speaks up, tipping his head before leaving back with the other guards, these busy keeping Jessie in place.

Goosebumps form on your arms and back when you hear them speak in the midst of their resistance, voice brimming with ire. “I regret ever thinking you’d be any better for anything besides sex. Being with you‘s like hiring a prostitute -- fun when you’re doing it, bad when you have to pay for it. Sam’s just wasting his time with you.”

The judge places a hand on your shoulder, as if to keep you from answering back at them. Beyond angered, however, you can only take the bait, voice breaking when you speak up. “It’s not just about him. I- I’m not about to let all this go to waste. All those friends Faust made and all those people I got to know weren’t for nothing. It’s my choice -- I wanted a new life, but you kept me from having it.”

“And you fucked up mine,” they reply, snickering. “I mean, really -- Eighteen years in prison? For what? I was only trying to get the only thing you’re good for.”

“You tried to kill me in the process.”

“Tried's the key word there."

The judge squeezes your shoulder again, harder this time. She gestures over to Sans, distracting you from staring Jessie down any longer. You can only hear as they’re escorted off to a vehicle, metal ringing as they move around.

“I am in no position to say this, but please do not lose sight of yourself now, (L/N).”

You sigh and close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of weakness before tending back to the situation in hand, receiving support by her rubbing steady circles around your back.

★

Tired, you get down on one knee and accommodate Sans closer to your eye level, hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket. You feel yourself growing weaker -- body swaying when you try to stay in place. 

“Is he injured?” the judge questions, casting her attention back to you. “Do you need me to bring you something? Perhaps a medic?” Concern traces her voice, silence amplifying it. 

You shake your head. “I’m not sure,” you reply, sighing. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this, even though I’ve read about it before.”

She nods and steps back, staying on watch for anyone that dare tries to snoop into the room. Meanwhile, you attempt to find any clue that might hint at the monster’s recovery, though it’s harder for you to do than it was for you to read about it. You soon feel Sans’s hand place itself firm on the back of your head, pulling you to face him.

“Wh- What’s wrong?” you ask, voice breaking again. “What’s happening to you?”

“(Y/N). . .”

“Yes?”

You shake out of his hold and grab his shoulders, choking back a sob when the judge settles in to help you out.  

“. . .I’m sorry.”

“For what, Sans? Wh- What are you even saying?”

“I always lose hope -- I ain’t strong enough.”

As the fog continues to grow, your desperation reaches new levels. You grab his face and try to search for any sign of his irises -- to fan off the fog preventing you from looking at him. 

“You are strong enough. I. . . Y- You’re still here with us."

He places a hand over where your soul would be, movements weak as he tries to stay firm. “I’m not -- I’ve never been. But I’m glad I had the chance to be vulnerable around you and Faust. . . And to have you as my family. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that far before.”

At a loss for words, you hug him tight, taking in the feeling of his body and soul -- something you would overlook on a regular time spent together. 

Now that you’re in this situation though, you take him in completely: the weak beat of his soul, the oddly smooth yet rough feeling of his bones, the unnatural warmth, his scarce breathing, and the faint scent of antibacterial soap -- the same one you had smelled on him when visiting him in prison, most changes you overlooked until this moment. 

“Stay with me,” you request, cupping his cheekbone as best you can, and settling for his jaw when the fog blocks you from holding onto him any closer. “I. . . I believe in you -- your strengths and your vulnerable points.”

You wait, closing your eyes and bumping your forehead with his as best you can, tears threatening to spill, heart increasing its pace, and soul aching for a solution. Shock goes through you when he grabs onto your back, arms placed around your waist. 

The fog remains when you look back at him. His gaze is still lost, though a more stable consciousness stays stuck to him.

“This really you, (Y/N)?” the monster asks, sincerity in his question. “I ain’t imaginin’ you, right?”

“It’s me, Sans -- I’m. . . I'm here.”