Chapter Text
“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?” Despite the genuine concern in his voice, Papyrus was pacing back and forth across Sans’ room, packing a bag of essentials for him - clothes equally as dirty and threadbare as the ones Sans already wore, a couple of his surviving books, and his long-dead cell.
Sans, seated on his deflated, yellowed mattress, watched him without moving his head, stagnant grin relaxed at the sight of his brother acting a lot like how he used to in the past. Aliza hovered in the doorway, lips twisted in worry. Sans had had a long conversation with her about how she couldn’t, under any circumstance, trigger a RESET while he was gone until he figured out what effect his absence would have on the world and himself. That meant she would have to remain hidden and safe in Snowdin and survive on tree bark soup until he could bring back the food Nightmare promised to him.
“sure as could be, paps,” Sans said. “this is the biggest boon we could’ve asked for; it’s worth the risk.”
Papyrus sighed as he zipped the bag up, plopping it gently beside Sans before kneeling to his height and throwing his arms around him. Sans tensed in response before slumping against his brother, sinking into the embrace. Papyrus smelled of rot and dust where he once smelled like wet pasta and snow. If Sans could bring back even a little bit of that…
“IT’S NOT AS BIG AS THE BONES I COULD MAKE,” Papyrus announced, rising back to his feet and pulling Sans off the bed with him, “BUT IF YOU’RE SURE, I TRUST YOU.”
Aliza stifled a snort at Sans’ world-weary groan in response to Papyrus' purposeful obtuse “misunderstanding.” He finally patted at Papyrus’ arms and the other set him gently on his feet. Sans gathered his bag, slinging a strap over his shoulder, and leaned up to meet Papyrus mid-way to gently knock skulls together.
“love ya, bro. be careful, and stay out of undick’s way.” He shuffled to the door, knocking elbows with Aliza. “see ya soon, kid.” He locked up when Aliza gave him a hug, keeping it brief so her scent didn’t get to him; she hadn’t gotten cooked alive this time around, but he still had brief memories of how g o o d she had smelled.
Sans exited the house and stepped through a shortcut to his station in the woods, where Nightmare and Cross were still waiting.
“ready,” he announced.
Cross straightened from where he was leaning against the sentry station, and Nightmare turned his head from where he’d been staring into the trees.
“Before we depart,” Nightmare said, “we need something to call you. Your universe is labeled ‘Horrortale,’ so I thought that ‘Horror’ would be as good a moniker as any.”
Cross grimaced at that, which amused Sans. He didn’t really care what they wanted to call him; it made sense to give him a label to avoid confusion.
“could just go with ‘blood’,” he suggested, offering a crooked grin, “since i’m swimming in it.”
Cross didn’t seem to like that either, but he looked pensive. “i read in a book, once, that some human gods were said to bleed gold,” he said. “what about ichor?”
“‘kay,” Sans agreed easily with a shrug.
Nightmare seemed in agreement, too, as a dripping tentacle emerged from his back and cut through the air, opening a pathway to their destination. Cross glanced briefly at Ichor before stepping up to and through the shortcut; Ichor followed suit after seeing the lack of hesitation, meaning it wasn’t likely to be a trap, and felt the cold chill of Nightmare’s presence following close behind. The newish face on the other side was much less pleasant to become acquainted with than Cross and Nightmare had been. Killer, he was called, and had a sense of humor to match. Ichor disliked him immediately, and found that the sentiments were returned when he had to stop Killer from shoving a knife into his only working eye.
It was hard to fit in when he was joining a group of monsters that seemed so well-established with one another. He felt like an outsider - not that that was anything new, ever since he destroyed his world’s only chance of salvation, but unlike the monsters back in his world, he had to spend every day with his new teammates. He wasn’t sure what he could bring to the troupe. Nightmare was irrevocably the leader, and Cross seemed to direct most of the goings-on that kept the group running, like training (which Nightmare occasionally sat in on or led himself), cooking (which he elected the help of Ichor or Killer for), cleaning, and keeping Killer from annoying Ichor too much. While Ichor had yet to see Killer in action outside of training, he appeared to head the team’s damage; Ichor didn’t need a single glimpse of his stats to know he was dangerous. (Not that Ichor could peer into another’s stats since the Incident; any focus-based magic, even magic so simple as that, evaded him, with a splitting headache being the punishment for even attempting it.) As it turned out, however, Nightmare was two steps ahead of him when it came to his place, or lack thereof, in the team.
Out of the blue one day, Nightmare decided to send Cross and Killer on a mission while he and Ichor restocked the kitchen (which Ichor was guilty of emptying almost entirely on his own just in his first few weeks there). Cross looked skeptical at their leader’s decision, but didn’t protest further, and the two parties went their separate ways. Ichor wasn’t sure what he was expecting on the other side of the shortcut Nightmare had opened for them - maybe a Snowdin less ramshackled than his own, or perhaps a bustling marketplace set in New Home? -, but it wasn’t rolling fields and farmland as far as the eye could see. The sun, which Ichor had never once glimpsed beyond the light peering through the stained glass of the Judgement Hall, was almost blinding after so long in the perpetual darkness of their base AU. It brought a warmth to his bones that he’d never experienced, though; not too hot, like the fires of Hotland, but something similar to the comfort Grillby’s flames used to bring his restaurant (before the magic in the air thinned out of the point that his flames used his own soul as fuel to keep burning).
The scene before him shimmered and Ichor was brought out of his stunned reverence when Nightmare’s hand landed on his shoulder. He blinked hard, stunned at the feeling of tears rolling down his face, and when he turned to his leader, the other was staring out at the same sight before them.
“I forget, sometimes, that a lot of AUs never got to see the surface.” His permagrin ticked up slightly on one side. “Killer had much the same reaction as you.”
“did you?” Ichor asked hoarsely, wiping his face halfheartedly.
Nightmare’s jaw tightened, and Ichor almost thought he wouldn’t reply, but then he nodded. “In my universe, monsters and humans lived together on the surface. We never got trapped underground, were never without the sun.” He turned his head to meet Ichor’s gaze. “I’m sorry you weren’t as fortunate.”
Ichor shrugged. A part of him wanted to be jealous, but he hadn’t known (and grew not to care about) what he was missing, and to be able to experience it at all when he long thought he’d die underground… Well, it was thanks to Nightmare, a monster who grew up under the sun, that he got to experience the surface in the end, so what was there to be jealous of? “‘s okay. not like you had… a hand in my timeline’s… outcome.”
The two took in the sight for a beat longer before Nightmare removed his hand, looping a tentacle around Ichor to gently tug him along as he turned. “Come. We have an errand to run, and there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
They’d exited the shortcut in the middle of a dirt path atop a hill, and so followed said path down one of the declines. At the bottom laid a farm surrounded by lush crops and various animal pens, its borders marked by paint-chipped wooden fences. There was a small farmhouse sitting just within the border, with equally cracked blue paint on the walls and a reddish-brown thatched roof. On the porch, swaying in a creaky rocking chair, was a dozing Sans that looked so much like Ichor in the past that if Nightmare hadn’t been guiding him along, he might’ve come to a halt at the uncanniness of the sight. The stumbled scuffing of his footsteps seemed to have alerted the alternate of their presence, because his repetitive motion slowed to a halt and he lifted his head, sockets half-open. They opened further in what appeared to be surprise at the sight of them, and Ichor tensed, prepared for some horrified reaction to what had to be two of the most appalling looking monsters, but against all odds, a grin settled on his face as he rose to his feet.
“well, if it ain’t the Prince of Negativity himself,” the alternate drawled. He was clad in a white tanktop, black shorts dotted with red flowers, and sandals over dirt-stained socks; a familiar looking blue jacket, besides the odd brown patches sewn on here and there, was tied around his waist, and a straw hat peeked over his shoulders, attached to him by a string around his throat. He pulled a piece of wheat from his pocket and stuck it between his teeth, white eye lights darting over to Ichor, who subconsciously shrunk closer to Nightmare under the sudden scrutiny. “this one of y’ur ducklings? don’t match any of y’ur previous descriptions…”
“He’s new,” Nightmare explained. “Ichor, this is Crop. Crop, Ichor.”
“nice t’ meet’cha,” Crop said, nodding to Ichor. “‘bout time he brought one of y’all ‘round. was beginnin’ t’ think I’d never get t’ do more than hear ‘bout ya. lemme get y’all somethin’ t’ drink.”
“you’re here… often?” Ichor whispered as the alternate ducked inside.
“Enough,” Nightmare murmured back. “It’s a long story.”
Ichor left it at that. The sun was nice, but he was starting to get a headache from the way it brought the colors around them into stark clarity, gleaming off of near everything. Crop returned soon enough with a tray carrying various colorful drinks.
“Orchard didn’t know what y’all’d want, so he got one of everythin’.” He balanced the tray on a small round table near the top of the porch steps. “he’ll be out soon, so why don’t ya make y’urselves comfortable and tell me what brings ya here today.”
Crop reclaimed his rocking chair with a glass of pink lemonade, Nightmare taking the normal lemonade, and Ichor stared at the remaining options before settling for what looked like iced tea. He took a seat on the top porch step while Nightmare leaned against one of the balustrades.
“I want to put Ichor in charge of the group’s meals,” Nightmare announced.
Ichor choked on his drink, setting it beside him quickly before he could fumble and spill it. A gentle hand patted his back as he hunched over his knees and when he turned his head, he was met with a face from his past. Papyrus stared back at him with a sympathetic expression.
“I’m Sorry,” he said. “Did I Put Too Much Sugar In The Beverage? I Much Prefer More Plain Tea But My Brother Likes Them Sweet, So I Thought-”
“let him breathe, bro,” Crop called.
“it’s fine - i’m fine,” Ichor assured him numbly.
The Papyrus - not his, though so similar to his brother Before - offered a relieved smile and stood to his full height - which, even from where Ichor was sitting, he could see didn’t match up to his own brother’s towering form.
“this is my brother, Orchard,” Crop introduced as his brother settled against the wall beside him. “Orchard, you remember Nightmare.”
“Yes, Of Course,” Orchard chuckled. “How Could I Possibly Forget?”
“and that over there is one o’ his ducklings, Ichor.”
“It’s Nice To Meet You,” Orchard said cheerfully.
Ichor nodded and turned his attention to Nightmare. “you want me to what?” he asked.
Nightmare met his gaze evenly. “I believe it will benefit not only the team, but you personally. You’ll always know how much food we have; you will be in charge of arranging future restocking trips when you think we’re getting too low; and you can pass your knowledge on to your brother to aid the survivors of your world. Plus, it will be a big help to Cross, since he hates cooking duty.”
“but my… my episodes…”
“We will ride through them as they happen, but I believe they will occur less the more you’re able to absorb the idea of not being on the brink of starvation any longer.”
Crop and Orchard watched their exchange silently, but when Ichor had nothing to say in response to Nightmare’s words, the older of the duo spoke up.
“I could teach ya how t’ pick the freshest ingredients,” he offered. “and my bro knows a lot ‘bout nutritional jargon; he’s trainin’ t’ be a nurse in the big city, y’know.”
Ichor could hardly believe the opportunity being laid out before his eyes - no, scratch that, he couldn’t believe it, at least, not for the grand price of free. “what do… you want in return?” he prodded cautiously.
Crop tapped his foot against the porch as he began rocking again. “well, now that you mention it…” Ichor tensed. “... I could use some extra hands ‘round th’ farm. Orchard’s gonna be headin’ back to Ebott in a couple o’ days, and this is a big place.” Crop waved an arm and Ichor glanced around. The brothers’ territory did seem to go on forever, with so much to see and do even at first glance. “farmin’s a round-th’-clock job, an’ it’d be nice to have some company. plus, I can teach ya wha’ I know as we go along.”
Such a small fee for what practically amounted to a free, consistent source of food and nourishing knowledge. Ichor could only nod dumbly and both Crop and Orchard beamed at him. (It didn’t feel so much like the torture of looking into a mirror reflecting the past.)
“we can set up a schedule later,” Crop said as he rose to his feet once more. “y’all stopped by for supplies, I’m assumin’, so let my bro and I empty some of our extra food storage for ya. how much will ya be needin’ this time?”
“Enough to restock our kitchen,” Nightmare replied, and glanced at Ichor as he added, “and enough to feed a starving village for a month.”
“how many mouths?” Crop asked as his brother disappeared inside.
“sixteen,” Ichor said. “it… it can’t be magic food, though.”
“Not To Worry,” Orchard announced as he made a reappearance, holding a few clothe bags over his shoulder and a brimmed hat of his own set upon his skull. “We Cater To Both Monsters And Humans In Our Community, So While Our Crops Have A Magic Touch, They Are Very Much Physical Matter In All Other Aspects.” He offered Ichor a hand. “Come! I Can Give You The Tour While We Walk; Two Birds With One Stone!” And no matter the version, Ichor could never deny his brother.
The sun was beginning to set by the time they finished and Nightmare opened a pathway to Ichor’s world.
“what about cross and… killer?” he asked, hesitating on the border of the tear. He tried to be discreet about wiping the beads of black-tinted drool escaping between his teeth; Orchard insisted that they take a couple of his freshly baked pies, and the scent was getting to him. His pseudo-stomach was beginning to grumble, but he was willing to wait until he could see his brother (and friends) eat proper food for the first time in… years.
“I’m keeping tabs on them,” Nightmare assured him, guiding Ichor through the shortcut, one of the bags of food hanging from his back, attached to him by more solid shadows. “Time flows differently the further apart AUs are from one another, and while it may seem chaotic in the grand scheme, most universes exist in pretty organized bundles. Surface-based AUs are closer in proximity and time zones than underground-based ones, but most universes run on their own time with no regard for others.”
Ichor probably could’ve easily wrapped his head around that once upon time, but he’d had much more important things to do than reinforce his scientific knowledge over the last decade of his life. Nightmare seemed to realize that his words had gone in Ichor’s acoustic meatus and out the hole in his skull.
“They’ve only been in the target universe for about half an hour. We’ll have to make this trip quick so we can return to the manor, as the time flow in your universe is more closely matched to the one they’re in.”
That information was easier for Ichor to digest. They’d exited the Void in front of his station in Snowdin Forest, and he wasted no time leading the way to town. He must’ve been spotted because he heard calls coming from within the borders of town as they approached.
“Sans!”
“Sans is back!”
“Someone get Papyrus and the kid!”
Ichor was suddenly glad he had the town’s food in his (recharged but stubborn from disuse) phone’s inventory space. A subtle glance at Nightmare revealed that the bag on his back had disappeared, and the sludge making up his body appeared to be a little thicker, coagulating as it slowly rippled. Ichor really hoped the tar wouldn’t stick to the food itself when it was pulled out of… wherever Nightmare stored it.
“BROTHER!”
The sudden impact stole Ichor’s breath away, but the warmth and scent of his brother comforted him like nothing else. It’d been a long couple of weeks since they last saw each other, but Papyrus didn’t seem much worse for wear.
“i got good news, bro,” Ichor mumbled into Papyrus’ chipped battle body. “gotta have a family meeting so i can catch you up.”
“OF COURSE.” Papyrus shifted him so he was hanging under his arm like a sack of flour. He offered Nightmare a crooked grin, gesturing through the scattered crowd of monsters. “PLEASE, JOIN US.”
Nightmare nodded and followed at Papyrus’ heels as they moved further into town, Ichor nodding and waving in acknowledgement of the greetings the other residents were sending his way. He even saw Grillby’s melted visage peering out at him through the window of the bar, and he hoped that the supplies he had with him would help even a little in regards to his friend’s plight. They finally reached their dilapidated house and Papyrus led the way inside. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Aliza was peering out from the kitchen, sighing in relief when she saw them.
“YOU JUST MISSED UNDYNE,” Papyrus explained as he gently set Ichor on his feet. “SHE WAS VERY INSISTENT ABOUT INVESTIGATING EVERY HOUSE. ALIZA HAD TO HIDE IN THE OVEN.”
Aliza’s shoulders hunched as she rubbed at her arm - the same one Ichor had torn off a couple timelines ago in a hungered frenzy.
“aw, stars, sorry kid. but i’ll definitely make it up to you. right now.” Aliza and Papyrus gave him equally confused looks as he pulled out his phone, opened his inventory, and pulled out a crisp green apple, tossing it to the human child. She fumbled it, her gasp overpowered by Papyrus’ own, his gloved hands flying up to cover his mouth as Aliza stared at the fruit with watering eyes.
“go ahead,” Ichor urged, offering another to his brother, who took it almost reverently. “take a bite.”
The two did so without further prompting, Aliza taking a hesitant, delicate mouthful; Papyrus followed suit, looking like he wanted nothing more than to eat it whole, but prevented from doing so by his broken teeth. Aliza sniffled as she chewed, and only once the two had eaten the fruits - cores and all - did Ichor bring out the bulging bag of food donated kindly by Crop. It thudded heavily when it hit the kitchen floor, even fuller than it looked because of inventory magic, and Papyrus’ knees hit the floor just as hard as he doubled over, keening as he buried his face in his hands. Aliza reached out to rub his arm, and Ichor shuffled over to draw his brother into a tight embrace.
“hope you still want cooking lessons,” Ichor said, “because i’m going to help you become the best chef in the underground.” He pulled away, holding his brother by the shoulders as Papyrus lowered his hands; there was no sign of tears, as he probably didn’t have the magic to produce them currently, and Ichor’s soul ached. “just be a little more patient, okay bro?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the bag. “it’s all fruits and veggies and some pre-cooked meals. no meat, raw or otherwise. but i need you to be strong and ration the food for Snowdin.” Ichor glanced at Aliza. “you’ll probably need to help them. you guys got to start out small, so you don’t throw up and waste the food. and once we figure out the cooking situation, the food will last even longer.”
Papyrus nodded almost frantically, with Aliza’s shallow nods bobbing along, and Ichor grinned at them. Nightmare, who Ichor had honestly forgotten was there, cleared his throat. Time was up.
“we gotta go,” Ichor said, letting his brother haul both himself and Aliza into a tight embrace. He squeezed Papyrus’ wrist to get his attention. “whatever you do, d o n o t let undyne catch wind of this.”
Nightmare dropped Ichor and the rest of the food off at the manor, then left to collect Killer and Cross. Ichor decided to pass the time putting all the food away, and felt something in him settle at the sight of their fridge and cupboards and pantry full to the brim with fresh food and ingredients. He also had a cookbook graciously lent to him by Crop and Orchard. It was supposed to be full of simple, yet filling, meals, and he flipped through it, deciding to try his hand at making dinner - by himself.
“cozy pasta parmesan soup,” he read aloud.
It appeared pretty simple, and he had everything on hand now. Butter, garlic, chicken broth, pasta, and parmesan, brought to a boil in a pot - Papyrus would love the meal. Just as the dinner had no more than a few minutes left, Ichor heard the others returning. He moved to the doorway of the kitchen, peering out in time to witness Cross stumbling into the common room, Nightmare following close behind, supporting a roughed-up looking Killer. He bore witness to Nightmare talking Cross through what looked like an anxiety attack, then leaving Killer in their care with final orders to turn in for the night after they patched him up. Fortunately, Ichor had the perfect remedy.
“dinner,” Ichor announced proudly after corralling his two teammates to the dining table. He plated and served them the meal, getting himself a plateful as well. He waited and watched as they took their first bites.
“wow, ichor, this is really good,” Cross said, smiling, though there was something off about it - and it wasn’t just the exhaustion in his sockets.
Killer didn’t bother saying anything, practically inhaling the pasta, though Ichor noticed that the abrasions on his bones were fading slowly - too slowly. Much more slowly than Ichor’s own collected injuries had when he ate the sandwiches he and Cross had made together.
“what… what did i do… wrong…?” he uttered.
“Hm?” Killer looked up, mouth full and brows furrowed.
“it’s the intent,” Cross explained, poking at his food. “the food is warm and comforting, but there’s no… urge to heal, because you obviously didn’t know we’d return injured.” He paused in thought for a moment. "there's also lv to take into account, but that only really matters when it comes to more mortal wounds."
Ichor didn’t have much experience cooking after Papyrus became old enough to more or less fend for himself, so he’d almost forgotten how much intent affected food. (It didn’t help that he’d also been devoid of food in general for seven years before accepting Nightmare’s offer.) He put that information into the back of his mind.
it’ll work better next time, he vowed silently as Killer pushed away his cleared plate and stood, hobbling out the kitchen with what might’ve been a mutter of gratitude. Cross helped Ichor clean the dishes before parting for his own room, and Ichor plated the last of the pasta, taking it upstairs to Nightmare’s room. As usual, the head of their group was sitting at his desk, flipping through a book, and raised his head in response to Ichor’s presence.
“food,” Ichor said. “eat while… you work; it’ll give you energy and… keep your mind clear.”
Nightmare looked bemused, just as he had when Ichor offered him tea, but set aside his tome in favor of the plate. “Thank you. It looks appetizing. Well done.” Ichor preened under the praise. “It’s been a long day. Get some sleep.”
“‘k. goodnight, nightmare.”
“Goodnight.”