Implanting the focus into Sans' skull had gone well enough. The smaller skeleton had been completely unconscious for it, not even responding when Gaster had cut into his skull.

Sans was still out now, lying on the operating table, bandage wrapped around his skull and hooked up to the equipment that monitored his vitals.

Gaster was sitting at his desk.

He wasn't surprised he had snapped the way he had. In fact, he had seen it coming long ago.

No, he was surprised that it was so long before he had snapped.

In the war of Humans and Monsters, Gaster had fought a lot, not out of patriotism, but out of vengeance and hatred. By the end of the war, when monsters had been sealed Underground, his Lv had been nearly fifty. He had been cruel and hard and cold, hellbent on destruction-- specifically the humans'-- but vicious to everyone around him.

Emotionless, except for icy cold rage, willing to do whatever necessary to get what he wanted.

In the following decades, with no one there to be subject to his rage, and, in fact, some good friends taking care of him, his Lv had begun to drop, almost down to thirty. He had begun to feel again. And while he was by no means nice or kind to the rest of monsterkind, his coldness towards them was more of just an inherent sociopathy, rather than an angry bitterness. (The anger was still there, it had just reserved itself for humanity.)

And then he had created Sans.

Gaster had loved Sans. Truly loved him, as his own child.

And for a little while, things were good.

But the thing about LOVE was that it was like an old habit; you thought you could break it, but the instant you start slipping back towards it, it rushes up to you and drags you back down into its clutches.

As much as he had wanted to help Sans, and even all of monsterkind, in the beginning, as good as it had all seemed, he was still hurting Sans with the injections. His intent had been good, but he was still knowingly causing Sans pain. And his Lv had begun to rise again.

And then came the Blasters. Carving chunks out of Sans' bones, purely for the sake of making him stronger. It didn't matter that it did make him stronger, that it was for the good of all monsterkind, not even that it healed fast.

That alone brought Gaster a few Lv higher.

If anyone had been paying attention, really paying attention, they would have noticed the way Gaster acted slowly becoming colder over the years.

Then everything had just... exploded. Forcing Sans to fight the human. The Determination loss. The Magic boost. The recovery Determination injection that had melted Sans' face.

Had Sans said yes to Gaster giving him the focus, Gaster would have just gained a few more EXP. But, whether Gaster had liked it or not (truth be told, a small sadistic part of him had loved it,) Sans' refusal stirred up all the old anger and rage, and it had burned in his chest and consumed him, numbing his Soul to the point where he could look at Sans, and all he saw...

...Was a test subject.

And now?

Now Gaster was at Lv: 51.

And he didn't intend to let that drop any time soon.

Because if he could do what he had to, if he could destroy humanity, without feeling anything at all...

Well. It was worth it.

On the table, Sans let out a pitiful moan. There was no doubt that he was in a lot of pain.

He was not in any danger, though. He would be fine.

Gaster ignored him, instead looking at a report from one of the CORE construction crews. It seemed that a set of fittings for some tubing weren't fitting, and that was a problem that needed to be fixed.

"d-di-ings--" Sans whimpered.

Gaster checked the dimensions of the fittings. Everything matched up.

"h-hel-p--..."

So a manufacturer error, then. He would have to get new fittings entirely.

"i-it hurts--!"

"You are fine, Sans. Stay still."

Sans let out a shocked, hurt sound, then was silent.

Gaster felt a spark of guilt, a small little bit of him that still wanted to love Sans. He pushed it aside. Indulging in feelings like that, acting on them, would only lower his Lv, which would make hurting Sans hurt Gaster more.

It was better like this, he told himself. This way, what needed to get done was done, and only one of them had to hurt.

It was better that only one of them had to suffer, this way.

It was better, right?

Yes. Yes, this way, Gaster could remain clear-headed, undamaged. Only one person had to get hurt.

... It...

... was better...

... right...?

Yes. He told the small reluctant part of him firmly. Yes, it is.

~o0o~

Sans was in a lot of pain.

And it wasn't just physical pain. Sure, he was in a lot of that. It felt like his skull was split open, and his left eye socket was bandaged over so couldn't see out of it, but that wasn't the bad part.

The bad part was that, when Sans had called for help, Gaster had essentially told him to shut up.

There hadn't even been a shred of remorse on his voice. Just... a cold, hard command, one that could not be disobeyed.

So now Sans was lying on the steel table, shivering, the pain in his skull surpassed only by the ache in his Soul.

And oh, how it hurt. For fourteen years, Gaster had always been there. Always right beside Sans, helping him whenever Sans asked.

And now he wasn't. In fact, he was actively refusing Sans' plea for help.

Was this because Sans hadn't wanted to keep up with the DTW project? Because Gaster was mad at him for that?

Or-...

Sans shuddered.

Or had it all been a ruse? All the kindness and love and raising him as a child-...

Had that all been just to get Sans to cooperate, to be nice and listen to Gaster, and now that he wasn't, all that was pointless?

Was...

Was Sans really just a test subject? Had he really always been a test subject, the entire time?

Sans choked back his sobs.

It's true, isn't it? I'm just his test subject. He said so. That's all I am...

~o0o~

Sans spent the day lying there, slowly trying to accept that all he was was Gaster's test subject, that he never had been Sans, but always S642.

Emphasis on tried.

Every time he told himself, his mind would flash back to that time-- when Gaster had shared those hotdogs with him-- taught him about Magic, about Souls, about anything-- held him when he couldn't sleep-- told him it was going to be okay when he was in pain-- no, no, that couldn't be fake! Gaster was his creator, like his father, and he loved Sans! You couldn't bluff through that for fourteen years straight, Gaster had loved him.

But then why had this happened?

Was it--...

Was it because Sans really was his test subject?

... No! No, he couldn't be!

And around and around Sans went.

Finally, despite the pain in his head and Soul, he slept.

~o0o~

"-- have to let me see him!"

It was Jeff's voice that woke Sans.

"No, actually, I don't." Gaster responded coldly.

Sans rolled over on his side a bit, peering through his working eye at the door. Gaster was more or less fully blocking it with his body, preventing Sans from even seeing Jeff, much less the cat monster entering the door.

"Where is he?" Jeff demanded.

"That is none of your concern."

"None of my--!! I have every right to be concerned about Sans! I took care of him just as much as you in the beginning, and, seemingly unlike you, I still want to protect him!"

"You seem to be implying that I am not properly taking care of Sans."

"Not--" Jef scoffed. "Every single lab employee saw how cold you were towards him! And now no one's seen him for the last four days! All the times he's been injured, you've been down here taking care of him, but he's been gone, and you haven't. Now, where is Sans?"

"jeff--!" Sans choked out, his voice hoarse with disuse. "j-jeff-..."

In a surprising show of strength and courage, Jeff shoved by Gaster, into the lab. He froze, eyes widening, though, when he saw Sans, lying on the operating table, hooked up to all the monitoring machines, with half his skull bandaged up.

Then he was hurrying over to Sans. He settled one paw on Sans' arm, the fingertips of his other gently brushing against the bandages around Sans' eyesockets.

"Annoying Dog," Jeff murmured, "what did he do to you."

Sans tried to respond, but he could only let out a choked sound of misery and relief. Here was Jeff, who had always done his best to help Sans, he was here now and he would help Sans just like always, he would put an end to this suffering.

But then Gaster was there, wrenching Jeff away with summoned hands, all while Speaking in Hands with his normal hands. "Jeff, get out. Now."

He started dragging Jeff away to the door. Jeff struggled against his grip, shouting about child abuse and hurting Sans, and Sans weakly reached for Jeff, calling out to him for help, his head pounding and body screaming in protest, and then--

Gaster shoved Jeff out the door, and closed it behind him.

Heaving a sigh, Gaster looked back to where Sans was lying on the table, curled up on his side, shaking and trembling and sobbing.

Sans hurt so much. His head felt like it was going to explode and he felt sick, but again the worst pain was from the coldness in Gaster's expression, the way he was looking at Sans...

Gaster just sighed again.

~o0o~

Jeff stared at the door to Gaster's lab, shocked.

Never had he approved of Gaster's experimentation on Sans, but it had always seemed like he and Sans had cooperated together, loved each other.

This, though...

Jeff shook his head.

He couldn't allow this.

He couldn't.

But if he was going to do something... he'd have to be careful. Jeff knew Gaster, knew that the Royal Scientist was incredibly dangerous. If he was going to do anything at all, he couldn't leave the smallest space for assumption, could have no margin of error.

He knew he couldn't tell anyone. Gaster would make good on his threat from all those years ago.

... so what could he do?

What could he do?

Jeff slid down, back against the wall, still looking at the door.

He couldn't let Gaster do this to Sans, couldn't let Gaster run these experiments in Sans.

He had to do something...

Jeff sat there for a long time, doing nothing but staring at the door to Gaster's lab.

... Doing nothing...

Jeff was Gaster's most productive employee. If there was one thing that Gaster liked aside from results, it was cooperative, productive underlings.

Jeff smiled, a small, rueful smile.

He had...

Well. It wasn't an idea. More like the barest of concepts. But, it would work.

It had to work.

§

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