Sans was still here. He was pregnant. Had a family to go back to. Yet he was still stuck here.

Stupid piece of shit. That's what Helen was.

Sans seemed to be taking it well enough. Just waiting out the clock, like Helen told everyone. Because Helen wasn't interested in Sans. No, he wanted him gone. Gone far enough that he could go home and enjoy the life he deserved. Because he seemed nice and deserved the happy life he had.

There Sans sat, on the bed Helen decided to give him for that night, with Bean curled against his chest as he gently fed her slices of extra sugary fruit from cans.

He let his pencil drag out across the canvas, letting his horrible thoughts run rampant within his mind. Sans wouldn't be here if he could just get over her death. If he just wasn't stupid and pathetic and could stop the Puppeteer from doing this and -

The pencil suddenly jolted forward, making Helen glance down. The lead, now broken, bounced down the canvas and onto his lap. Making a much darker mark where he had been lightly sketching.

With a sigh, he set it down to the side. No point in finishing it now. It's ruined. He ruined it because that's all he ever did. It wasn't even fun to draw anymore. It stopped being fun a while ago.

"Are you drawing?" Sans asked.

"I... I was," Helen said quietly.

Please let Sans go home tonight. He can't be here.

"Do ya mind if I see?" Sans asked quietly. "I won't if you don't want me to. I've just never known anyone who draws so I figured it'd be cool to see."

"Okay, if you want to," Helen said.

It was terrible anyways.

Sans shuffled forward, gently leaning forward and peering down at the canvas. From this angle, Helen could see the light glow of the tiny orange soul. Not that the thin fabric of Sans' shirt could hide it either way.

"Holy shit that's good," Sans said, grinning down at the photo. "I look so cool in that."

Sans looked...

Helen glanced back down. There, in his hands, was a drawing of Sans. He didn't even realize he had been sketching him. Sans in the picture was leaning forward, light pencil marks creating a soft shadow across his face as he sat on the old creaky mattress Helen also added to the picture.

"I -" Helen paused, unable to find words at that moment. He felt anxious and tired and shitty, all at once.

"How long have you been drawing for?" Sans asked.

"I just always have. I wanted to be an artist when I grew up. Always imagined having my paintings in museums. Plans... changed."

"Don't all plans?" Sans settled down into the seat next to Helen as he spoke. His gaze, though, remained on the picture. Looking at it with such warmth that made Helen stare quietly. "I thought I'd be some rocket scientist. Spy at night, too."

"Spy at night?" Helen asked.

"You know, dodging lasers while sneaking in somewhere to steal evidence. Be cool. Used to fantasize about that all the time because I was a kid with both too much control and not enough at the same time. Then I got older, and priorities changed. It's cool that you continued your passion, though. You're good at it."

Helen felt his fingers tighten on the canvas. "Thank you."

"So you're the Bloody Painter?"

The woman in question settled onto the table, staring down at the picture. Helen jumped at her voice, trying to pull out a knife, but she grabbed his wrist easily.

"You've been a CreepyPasta for what, a few months at most?" She asked. Her dark eyes narrowed, looking down at Helen with an expression he couldn't pinpoint. "I've been doing this since I was younger. You can't beat me. Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Um..." Helen muttered random odd noises, hand twisting within her arm.

Her blonde hair brushed forward when she leaned towards him. "You're drawing is nice. I came to tell you that."

"Are you going to tell them about the Puppeteer?" Helen asked suddenly.

He didn't want to know. The Puppeteer was all he had.

"If he lets you keep your memories, will you... tell them?" Helen asked. "About how he...?"

"Yes."

No hesitation. Sans' face didn't even flinch. Helen felt himself bite so hard onto his inner cheek that he could taste blood.

"I will defend you though. It's pretty damn clear that the Puppeteer is forcing you into this weird hookie situation."

"He isn't forcing me, he's trying to help."

There was a short mumbled curse from Sans, who gently ran a hand down his face. Despite being kidnapped, this was the first time he looked angry. That made Helen scootch back in his chair. His chest hurt.

"I said I don't care if you kill other people. However, I do fucking care if I'm kidnapped from my house in half an outfit with the threat of my goddamn daughter being murdered. He had good intentions for you, but not for me. I'm allowed to be mad at someone treating me like shit. And kidnapping my daughter. She's a baby, she was probably confused and scared." Sans, unconsciously, tightened his grip on Bean. "And by kidnapping me and her, the Puppeteer also brought worry to people I care about. I get he's your friend, but he's not mine. Especially when his solution to your mental health is bringing you random woman against both your and their consent."

"I - it's my fault -"

"No, it's not."

Sans looked frustrated. Eye sockets furrowed, frown tugging at his teeth. He was staring and judging him and -

Helen felt his head go fuzzy as the world around him seemed to close in. His chest hurt and everything was too loud and Sans was angry at him and it was Helen's fault.

He couldn't breathe.

His voice sounded too loud. It was all so much, pressing in around him, suffocating him -

Suddenly, the canvas gripped so tightly was tilted back. And Sans, suddenly standing beside him with a thick black marker in his hand, dragged a long thick line down the middle of the canvas. Right across his drawn face.

"Alright." Sans, as if he didn't just destroy his own like image, set down the marker on the table gently. "So. What did I just do?"

"You..."

Helen looked back down at the now-ruined image.

"It's ruined," Helen said quietly.

"Yeah, well, you didn't seem to like it anyways. But man, look at that line. All awkward. My hand must be shaky, it's not even straight. Like me."

Helen snorted. That certainly came out of nowhere.

"So, uh, Smile Dog told me about this story. It's a cool story. You wanna hear it?" Sans asked. "Well, yer gonna hear it. So there's this boy, right? A boy who has a monster under his bed. A really scary monster. Scares the boy so shitless that he gets a bunch of wood planks and boards up his room to keep it out. But it lives under the bed, so the boy is now just trapped with the monster. So he's now stuck with the evil scary thing and he can't get out."

"You told me something like that before," Helen muttered.

"Yeah, I did. But can you blame the boy? He's just a kid, no one taught him any better. And he's scared and confused. So are you going to blame the boy for trying to protect himself? There could also be the view that he locked himself in to protect his friends and family. After all, that monster could hurt the people he loves. So this is the best idea, right?"

Sans moved to pull up his chair, settling right next to Helen. Turning, he set Bean on the table, who crawled for a bit before settling in the center and chewing on the marker with her stubby little teeth.

"So, first off, you're that kid. You've locked yourself into a room with an evil monster who tells you lies. Depression is that monster. Is it your fault that I just ruined your painting?"

"I -"

"Answer, it's not, bucko. It's mine. It was my hand and my marker." Sans jerked a finger at himself. "And you weren't the one who came into my kitchen and dragged me out. It's that monster that's telling you that. We don't know why the monster says mean things, but it does. And we have to try our best to challenge it and live in reality. Because if you stay in that boarded-up room for too long, you forget what the outside world looks like. So you have to make sure you remember to look outside and remind yourself that the grass is green no matter how much the monster tells you it's red."

Helen quietly nodded.

"So." With a tap of his fingers, Sans brought Helen's attention back to the ruined drawing. "I ruined this. It's my fault. You can be mad at me. I did it with good intentions, but it still ruined your hard work. Right?"

Helen stared at it once more. He... did. Not that Helen liked it much anyways, it was shitty art.

"You need to learn to believe in yourself. And how to fight that mean monster under your bed. And how to take down those wooden planks, even though the monster has told you for a while that the world is scary without them. And you need to learn how to stand up to yourself as well. And communicate what would help, and try to figure out what would help. That's a lot of work and it's really hard to do on your own. And I'm going to say this right now. What your friend is doing isn't helping. He is trying, but he isn't equipped to handle this. This isn't a situation that getting a date will help." Sans' expression softened. "And I think you know that."

There was no response from the human. Sans sighed.

"Whenever you get an anxiety attack as you did before, you should think about the drawing. Look at something near you and focus on the details. Like how my line is crooked and shaky. And how it covers one of my eye sockets." Sans, once again, tapped the canvas. "And if you have thoughts that are mean, try to imagine a mean monster saying them to a little kid."

~~~~~~

Sans sighed, leaning against the wall. Helen is emotionally unstable, and desperately needs a stable support system and actual help. He needs what Sans had when Sans was recovering from that murder he witnessed. And he wasn't getting that here. This wasn't a place that would help Helen. Instead, this greenhouse and the Puppeteer kept him comfortable in his little boarded-up bedroom. Why leave the bedroom if nothing challenged you to leave? With depression, you have to fight it. Instead of fighting the monster under his bed, he was letting it win. Which wouldn't work when the monster was hellbent on constantly twisting your mind against you.

He extended his fingers, glancing down at the slightly smeared marker smudge on his left hand. His bones were a mess, but he didn't dare bathe here. Not when he had nothing new to change into. He should be gone tonight.

The Puppeteer didn't take long to appear. Sans noticed the an tended to roam the back rooms more than the front. The man gave Sans a silent stare as the empty-handed skeleton crossed his arms, the magic restraint pressing uncomfortably into his ribcage.

"I have a deal for you," Sans said.

"Do you now?" The Puppeteer said, lips pressing thin. "Alright then. I'm listening."

"You care about Helen, I can tell you're trying to help him. And I can help him. I have the resources to." Sans tapped the front of his chest. "I'm your guy. But I can't do it here. He has to come back to my house. And you aren't allowed to visit at all. I'm not letting you anywhere near my family after this. He can go out and visit you, though."

"No."

Sans paused. No hesitation. A solid, upfront answer. The skeleton, who blinked a few times, sucked in a breath.

"What the hell do you mean no?" Sans asked. He knew it wasn't the best offer, but he thought he'd at least think it over.

"No. I thought about that at first. But then I saw you living with Toby and Clockwork. I'm not letting Helen anywhere near them." The Puppeteer took a few steps forward, looming over Sans. "They abandoned him when he needed them the most. His girlfriend died and Toby made it all about himself. Neither even bothered to visit. So no, fuck that. Helen isn't stepping one foot in your house if they are anywhere near it."

"But I can help him," Sans said, "They didn't mean to, and I think if they spoke they'd help comfort Helen's anxieties. Helen probably thinks they left because of them."

"Didn't they?"

Sans paused. He didn't know the full situation, honestly. He didn't know Helen's relationship with the two, or what exactly went down. This wasn't a place where he could talk confidently.

"I don't know. But that's not my fault. You're punishing me for actions they took," Sans said. He felt his magic humming painfully in the background, his right eye socket lightly burning. "You kidnapped my child and me. I'm sure that's helping Helen a lot. I'm sure he feels great thinking he's responsible for a fucking baby almost dying."

"He knows he's not!" The Puppeteer said. "Listen, know what? I'm fine with your deal. I want Helen to get better, and I know you're the man. I would be completely and utterly fine being distant from him if it means he gets better. But I know that Clockwork and Toby hurt him. If you kick them out and let me handle them, you get to go home with Helen. If not, then you stay here with him. Either way, you're going to help Helen."

Sans huffed. "That's not going to work. They're my friends, and one of them is Jane's girlfriend. You know, my girlfriend?"

"Then you're staying here."

"In the same place that he's been at for the past - what, year or some shit? How's that been going for him? I don't think you get to talk about knowing best for him when your effort hasn't been doing much." Sans leaned forward. "Tell me again how you've made him happier. Oh, right, you haven't. And remind me how many serial killers I've helped. I don't think you have much knowledge in this area, bud."

The Puppeteer simply glared. For a moment, he looked pissed. But then he paused, a smile dragging across his face. And his eyes slowly dragged down to glace at the magic restraint still on Sans.

Stiffly, Sans took a step back. Then another.

"I don't care. I'll be the bad guy as much as I can if it means Helen is happier. He's my only friend and I'll do anything to keep him smiling. Fuck, I had to butter up a rapist just to get those damned flowers to kidnap people. You're right, you are the only man in the world who can do this. So that means I'll do anything to keep you here forever. If that means murdering a kid, I'll do it. Want to test me?"

Sans sucked in a breath. His eye lights darted back towards down the hall, where Bean was with Helen.

"So here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay by his side. Whether you like it or not. I can't help him, I know that, but I can keep the person who can by his side. So congratulations, you're right, I'm an asshole who can't help my best friend. But you can. So you will. Because I'm going to force you to." The Puppeteer, with a firm face, placed a hand on Sans' shoulder. His grip was tight. "If you don't, we'll simply have to revisit that picture with Bean and the knife. Or maybe consider that little soul in your chest next to yours that I can crush like a grape."

His hand lifted before patting Sans' shoulder again. Sans felt his legs, cold and bare, trembling now.

"Good talk."

The Puppeteer walked away after that, leaving Sans trembling. After a moment, Sans collapsed to the floor, before promptly turning and vomiting.