Chapter Text
Some days, it was admittedly hard for Cross to remember how living in the Castle was like, his memory uncooperative and unreliable as always since XTale. He was familiarized with having a hard time when it came to remembering things, especially specific ones, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.
Today was… not one of those days. Surprisingly.
Today was one of the days where the bittersweet memories made themselves known and straight up screamed at his senses, painfully reminding him of everything he'd said, did, lost and failed to realize before it was too late.
Before he lost everything again.
And this is how he found himself looking at the ceiling, recalling all the stupid shenanigans he and the others had to deal with, and one of those always made Cross glad they all had become so close to each other over the years; a sick Killer.
And, with that memory, the others surrounding it came crushing him down and he looked at those pieces of his past like he didn't do in a long, long time.
When people were sick, they could act very differently from each other. Some soaked in affirmation and the comfort of knowing someone else was taking care of them, others would just brush it off and stubbornly try and keep doing things like they would if they were okay, and then… There was people like Killer.
So, when Killer went down with his legs injured from previous battles that he actively tried to hide from the Gang for weeks on end and a cold , Cross wasn't actually… surprised to know that he was lashing out at every single one of them.
If he was being honest with himself, Cross was more surprised Killer didn't do that way more often… Perhaps Nightmare had a finger on it.
Nightmare always had a finger on it.
Killer refused to take any and all kind of medicines, healing food or things he didn't see being prepared nor even being prepared by himself. He punched and kicked, even with his injuries, and summoned fucking blasters at whoever dared to approach, and Dust almost became a victim of those a couple of times too.
Well, it's not like they would cause much damage in case Killer actually landed a hit on Dust, what with his magic weakened it was a big surprise that he could still summon a single attack after so long hiding his sickness and injuries from them.
Considering all of that, the gang tried a couple of different approaches towards the ‘Killer's being a bitch issue’ as Dust so generously called.
Horror tried to make himself as approachable as possible and Dust tried to give Killer space, but Cross knew from experience that none of those would work.
Killer was always on high alert when he was sick or hurt, never being able to relax until whatever was wrong went away and he could go back to being his sarcastic asshole-self, so Dust's strategy would likely just make Killer think they were plotting against him and that he was in danger 24/7.
Horror's was kinder, but wasn't really helping much when Killer didn't trust anyone near him, and as much as it pained Cross to admit it, he doubted Killer would open up about any and all “weaknesses” he had, even in one of his good days.
Normally, when they were still in XTale, Cross would let Papyrus or Undyne do the consolation thing, but they weren't there then to do it for him and the ex Royal Guard decided to do the only thing he could possibly think of that wouldn't set all of Killer's alarms off.
… He acted like a bitch too.
It wasn't healthy, he knew it, but if that was the only way to get Killer to take some damn meds and rest then he would do it.
He didn't see it a lot in XTale since XGaster kept trying to make everything “perfect” for the first… nine (?) timelines? Maybe. But in the last one, during his training to be a Royal Guard, he got used to dealing with panicking victims scattered around when someone decided that attacking the human prince was worth it.
And, sometimes, people who came from agressive places tended to react to unfiltered kindess with aggressiveness and violence on a last attempt to keep themselves safe.
Because kindess was never offered for free, he once heard Killer say while in a feverish state. Because it always had a price.
Just like Nightmare.
You see, Killer, as his name already said, didn't come from a lovely timeline. He was born from death and destruction and sorrow and pain, and he made sure to make that fact clear as water for every unlucky SOUL that crossed his path.
So Cross grounded him by making him believe that it wasn't paranoia, that he wasn't going crazy and that he was right, there was a danger and it wasn't invisible anymore, it was showing itself and now he could fight it, win, get his control back and be fine once more.
Again, not healthy, but it worked in the end.
Killer threw a knife at him? He threw three to Killer's head. Killer threatened him? Cross threatened right back.
At the end of the week Killer was way better. It always worked like that, even if it hurt to be so rude with the eye-leaking skeleton. Killer being healthy sooner made it all worth it.
And after some jokes and reassurances or midnight talks at the kitchen, their dynamic went back to normal.
So this was why he gave himself permission to panick when Killer didn't answer with a snide comment or tried to stab his skull or whatever. He could remember that day as if it was yesterday; they had come back from a mission not so long ago and, without a word, Killer went to his room and didn't got out if Horror didn't asked him to eat.
Cross had the suspicion that Killer planned on staying in that room forever if Horror's problems with denying perfeclty fine and healthy food didn't engulf him in guilt in case big H fell down on his early habits of stocking food everywhere.
Killer was never quiet, he was loud and everybody always knew if he was in a room or not just by hearing his arabic accent while he rambled about whatever came to his mind.
Thinking of it, the timing was strangely close to when Killer had a breakdown and Nightmare paid him a visit. They had all thought things would be sorted out and just went back to their tasks, not even thinking about staying behind to see what Nightmare would do.
Cross was almost sure it was the negativity's demon fault that Killer's chronic depression came back full force, making him even more miserable because Cross could hear Killer whispering to himself that he ‘did everything right this time, why am I like this? I took the pills, I got out, I kill anyone the last few months and I was fine! What's wrong with me?’ over and over again when he thought that nobody was listening.
So Killer started to lash out more often, initiating fights and arguments with anyone who would take the bait, eating less and alone, always with his back against a wall so no one would sneak up on him.
It was slow, stretched painfully throughout the years where Killer took the ‘kill or be killed’ to another level. He got better, with help and support and care and everything they could give him because everyone in that Castle knew how feeling like that was like.
Well, almost everyone.
And at the same time, Cross started to see the hints, started to realize that Nightmare was doing something and that maybe he should have had more suspicion towards his Boss way sooner.
But looking at it now, maybe it was for the best that he didn't because as soon as Horror and Dust found out whatever plans Nightmare had they got killed.
He wasn't there, and his SOUL was torn between regret and relief. Regret that he couldn't save them and relief for knowing that he was alive and breathing and that he could still save Killer.
Cross wasn't there, he was doing the most risky thing he could have done at the time, leaving only a note for the others and refusing to say goodbye to their faces.
Mostly because it wasn't supposed to be a goodbye.
He feared to admit that maybe Nightmare found the note first. That Nightmare knew what he was doing and that he manipulated Killer into hating Cross forever.
But also because Cross was a coward and was afraid of what Nightmare might have done if he figured Cross knew he wasn't being trusted blindly by his ex Royal Guard like Killer was doing.
Because he was manipulating Killer, and the only one who could take the fog away from Killer's mind was Dream.
So Cross betrayed the Gang's rules, talked to their enemy and got backup.
A shame he was a little too late to do something to save the ones he loved, as always.
And when Dream, tired and exhausted as he always was nowadays, knocked in his room's door to say they were going to advance with the plan today, Cross didn't hesitate.
… But of course things didn't always go like they planned, and Cross felt himself freeze at way too familiar and terrifying blue lines tearing the sky open and ditching Killer through a portal because apparently Nightmare had pissed the Destroyer himself now.
At least he wasn't paying attention to Cross anymore.
If Farmtale’s tension had already been high before the Destroyer's sudden appearance, now it was tripled as Nightmare's aura sent one of it's most destructive outbursts to straight up kill everyone in sight.
Dream's shield protected them from it, for now, while Error didn't bother to dodge or deffend, his HP still unknown but probably way too high for Nightmare land him a hit kill.
Cross hoped everyone that needed to get out of this timeline had already escaped because he was not sure if he could stand his ground like this and the glitch's appearence just being more proof that Farmtale was in danger.
Hell, this was supposed to be one of the scarce normal days he had after escaping Nightmare's control but here he was, fighting the same bastard that k
illed Dust and Horror, and might as well just have killed Killer too.
Just not physically. Yet.
If he was being honest to himself, Killer looked like a damn walking corpse for months now, but admitting that was like admitting he had failed the last living member of the gang and… He was not ready to admit it.
That fucked up look on his face, the way his clothes seemed messier than normal, the way the grief and anger and the desire to be numb just showed freely on his empty eye sockets.
It looked like Nightmare had picked that same Killer from five years ago and made him fight a lost battle, except that now Dust and Horror were not there to pick up his injured limbs and Cross was not there to guard him in his sleep because he did not feel safe enough to sleep.
Nightmare had broken Killer so much that now he was back to either killing others or himself.
All the progress the gang had helped him make was gone and Cross wanted to throw up because he knew it wouldn't take too long before Killer just stopped fighting and threw himself in front of some random attack, like he had done before.
Or maybe he was already on the verge of doing it.
He didn't know why, but he had honestly hoped Killer hadn't gone back to actually attempting to do something like this all this time. Now he didn't have to look to know how many cuts had been reopened in Killer's covered arms and legs.
He didn't have to be at the Castle to know Killer probably felt like shit because he was clean for so long now, because it took so much effort to stop cutting himself and now he was doing it again.
Looking at where the other had been just some seconds ago, the ex Royal Guard felt awkwardly relieved that Error had showed up, even if just the sight of the Destroyer could be enough for him to freeze in place.
Killer was away from Nightmare, hopefully in a safe AU, and that meant they had time to rescue him and keep him safe and away from that goddamn castle.
“GET DOWN!” Someone screamed and he found his body moving even before actually understanding what they were saying, years of training making him glad to have been trained since his childhood.
He distantly saw the ground where he was just standing at being torn apart by Nightmare's appendages, but his mind seemed to still be catching up to everything that was going on right now.
Killer had been trying to stab Blue like a madman, Error showed up, snatched Killer away and just threw him on what looked like an aleatory portal, and now Nightmare was beyond pissed because if the look of horror in Dream's face indicated something, was that Error had likely shut their habilities to get out of this AU.
And that included Nightmare.
Killer wasn't here. Killer was safe.
The words registered on his mind like a punch in the gut and suddenly he had an overwhelming desire to smile until his skull cracked.
Not even the burning pain on his face from Killer's slash from earlier was enough to shake the warm feeling settling itself on his SOUL.
Killer was safe.
That small, flickering hope was turning into a blazing fire. He could feel it. Hope was dangerous, something you should never play with, Cross knew that by heart.
It didn't matter now, because Killer was away from Nightmare and that was all he needed to know before jumping into battle and firing blasters at the self proclamed King of Negativity or whatever bullshit he wanted to be called these days.
He would have Killer back, they would mourn the other in peace and Nightmare would burn in hell.
He could see all that happening and he would make sure it would actually happen this time. Nothing would get on his way, he was feeling more Determined than ever.
Hope was a dangerous thing. Cross wasn't one to flee from danger, though.
So he started running and fighting, because he knew it would be okay.
Everything would be okay.
He felt like he was floating, falling, as if gravity refused to work while he tried to keep his feet on the ground.
Maybe he was dead, maybe everything was finally over. The relief of freedom was washed off way too soon and despair and regret were quick to show up.
Stars, the fuck did he do?!
Was it really it? Really over?
‘It can't be! It can't be over just yet!’ some part of him screamed, desperate enough to turn his walls of apathy to shreds as hil SOUL trembled with way too heavy emotions for him to handle right now.
He didn't fulfill his promise, he didn't gave them a proper funeral. Nightmare was still standing, proud and arrogant, confident that his throne of sins would reign intact for all eternity.
Hell, Killer probably wouldn't ever have his dust beside theirs as they rested.
His memory was fuzzy and his eye sockets refused to open again, tightly shut as if glued permanently. Well, he was already used to the feeling by now, so alike to what he felt after a long and draining mission where Nightmare always ended up using him as a punching bag. This was his new normal, a hollow vessel he controlled and at the same time didn't, like an outsider to his own body.
He was used to it, but it didn't meant it ached a little less.
Killer didn't care about it. He had one mission. One. Fucking. Mission; take Nightmare down and watch him burn.
And he managed to fail even that.
Damn the consequences or what came next, he didn't care. All he knew was that he could not possibly rest in peace knowing Nightmare was still alive.
Except… if it was truly over, then none of that really mattered anymore, right?
Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong- His body was numb (did he even have a body? He didn't know anymore. Maybe it was only his SOUL now and his body had just dusted) and something pulled him deeper into the feeling, and asked him to let it go.
He didn't.
Killer didn't know how he was still aware, but he couldn't let go yet.
He felt the shift in his SOUL and suddenly STAGE 1 showed itself in all its glory. It had none, but Killer was too tired to make a joke about that.
The guilt became unbearable too fast for him to handle and Killer wanted to scream. He might as well have been screaming this whole time.
Not like he cared about that. There was no one to listen to him
He was alone, broken and desperate, just like how he used to be before the corrupted negative spirit found him.
He couldn't give up, not this time. It was his mantra, the whole reason as to why he was here in the first place.
*He tried to move…
*Nothing happened.
Distantly, he felt his SOUL cry in pain and sadness as he silently asked himself why the stars above seemed to hate him so much.
‘Why fight it? Why keep coming back, over and over, even when the suffering got bigger? Why not crumble beneath the unforgiving entity that haunted his worst memories?’ They seemed to ask.
And there was only one answer he could give; It was for them.
Everything he was doing was for them, every single scar on his body was for them, for their memories. Every single time he endured Nightmare's little game was for them.
Killer did not care what happened to him as long as he got to see a world where the King of Negativity fell and died and burned to the ground, a world where Dust and Horror got to be remembered with more than just fear and dread.
Please, he needed to do this. He needed to give them some kind of closure.
For so long he pretended he didn't care, pretended he wasn't so damn scared of losing them but now they were gone and all he wanted was for their deaths not to be in vain.
Fuck, he hadn't felt like this for so long. So damn alive, so damn full of emotions as his memories flashed by his eyes so quickly he almost couldn't grasp them.
It almost felt like the time when he wasn't Killer yet. When he was trapped in that golden hall and had just watched everyone else die at the hands of a demon.
Not Frisk, not Chara, but the demon that controlled them, he made sure to remember himself.
His hatred for Chara and Frisk did not dissipated, their time torturing him way too fresh for him to go down that hole now, but he still made the effort to remind himself.
He was Killer now. He killed everyone in his Underground, he accepted Nightmare’s deal without knowing what mess he was getting himself into. He escaped the RESETs and he got so far, he fought so much.
He was Killer now, but he still felt like Sans, the one from so long ago, the one that still cared enough to try and stop all this shit from happening.
He would never be Sans anymore, and he didn't know if he would even want to be him, but he felt exactly like him and that alone was enough to scare the shit out of him.
How dare that insistent pull try and make him give up now? After everything he lost and sacrificed and fought so much to protect?
Fine, he was nowhere near Nightmare's level of power but he still fought like a bitch when the King tried to break him… Most of the time.
Like hell he was going to give up now.
So he chose to be Determined. He chose to FIGHT.
And deep in the darkness, he made a decision.
*… He REFUSED to give up.
At the same time, a light shone and he saw something he admittedly did not expected to see.