Sans much needed sleep was a restless one. He tossed and turned, deliriously waking up, only to slip back into phantasamal dreams he couldn't seem to remember once his eyes opened. Eventually, he lost count of how many times he'd awoken, unable to tell dream and reality apart anymore. Everything was just one big blur of past timelines and forgotten nightmares.

Slowly he woke for the last time, staring blearily across Paps' bed.

Papyrus....

Sans quickly shuffled a hand around the bed, finding nothing but empty sheets. No. No, this couldn't be happening. He'd just brought Frisk to bed with them, and Paps....

This was just a dream, any moment now, he'd just wake up with Papyrus' long arms around him and Frisk snuggled in his chest, both sound asleep.

.....

......

.......

Sans' chest constricted around his soul.

No, no, NO!

This wasn't happening! Any minute Papyrus would wake him up with that sweet concerned look, dying to know what was wrong, but not nosy enough to ask. Just.... Just a few more seconds.

His breathing picked up, chest rising and falling rapidly, enough that he could almost feel dizzy. Was... Was everything up to this point just a dream? All of that time watching Frisk grow up, those feelings he felt for her, all the fun she'd had for everyone, all the love Tori had given her.

Was it just some twisted way of coping?

Sans hugged his arms tightly around himself. His breathing had stopped altogether, and he felt a violent shiver course through him. But he didn't make a sound.

Did he have the courage to go look around the house? What if it was empty? What if he was really losing it?

He didn't budge as the shuddering consumed him.

  ---

Paps smiled softly at Frisk's response, worry touching his features for a moment, but he quickly let them fall behind another sip of his drink. Setting his cup down, he looked up to his bedroom door with another smile, glad that now Sans wouldn't have to be so alone.

He opened his mouth, about to thank Frisk when his door suddenly slammed open.

Looking up, Papyrus saw a horrified Sans, clutched to the railing, chest heaving, and eye sockets pupiless.

Sans seemed to instantly deflate at the sight of them. He couldn't even voice his relief as tears instantly streamed down his cheekbones and he fell to his knees.

This... This was reality. Everything was fine. 

He opened his mouth to say something, anything to get them to not worry, but all that came out was a hollow sob.

At that, Papyrus was on his feet, rushing up the stairs to kneel beside his brother. Sans had never cried. Ever. He was always the tough one, the one who just laughed everything off, even when it really bothered him.

And again, he was lost for words. What should he say? What should he do?

Paps looked to Frisk for some kind of help.