I woke up on a couch.
The room was both familiar and unfamiliar—like a place I'd seen in a dream I couldn't quite remember. The air smelled faintly of spaghetti, dust, and something sweet and tangy. I sat up slowly, groggy and dazed, my eyes catching on the mess of ketchup bottles scattered around me. Some half-full. Most empty.
Weird.
I looked down at my hands and froze. Bone. Smooth, pale, skeletal fingers. No skin. No veins. No flesh. Just… bones. I flexed them, and they moved like they belonged to me. I wasn't wearing gloves. That was my hand. My body.
I stood up and shuffled toward the kitchen, catching my reflection in the side of a shiny toaster. Black sockets stared back at me from a rounded skull. A permanent grin stretched across my face. Blue hoodie. Black shorts. Slippers.
It hit me all at once.
I'd reincarnated as Sans.
Yeah, I know. You probably saw it coming from the title. Still doesn't make it any less strange actually being him.
Before I could process it any further, the front door slammed open with the force of a fireball.
"NYEH HEH HEH! SAAAAANS! WAKE UP, YOU LAZYBONES!"
That voice was impossible to miss. Loud. Eager. Almost theatrical.
Papyrus.
Sure enough, there he stood in the doorway—tall and proud, wearing a red scarf that somehow fluttered dramatically indoors. He pointed at me with a determined finger.
"We must begin our patrol at once!"
I stared at him for a second, still groggy, then let instinct take over.
"Heh… sounds like a skele-ton of work."
Papyrus groaned in pain, staggering like he'd taken actual damage. "SAAAANS! NO PUNS! THIS IS SERIOUS!"
Guess that reflex was baked into the bones.
He marched over and grabbed me by the arm, dragging me off the couch. I nearly slipped on a ketchup bottle but caught myself at the last second. With a sigh, I followed him out into the cold Snowdin morning. The air was crisp, the ground coated in a soft layer of snow. I couldn't really feel the temperature, but it looked nice at least.
As Papyrus rambled about puzzles, puzzles about puzzles, and the glorious capture of the human, I stayed quiet. My thoughts were all over the place.
I knew this world. I remembered the routes—Genocide, Pacifist, Neutral. I remembered timelines and resets, battles and choices. I knew what was supposed to happen next. But knowing wasn't the same as living it.
This wasn't just taking over a body. Sans's memories weren't completely mine. They drifted through my head like scattered puzzle pieces. Disjointed, but not unreachable. I hadn't erased him. It felt more like we'd merged.
So… was he still here?
Was he watching?
Or had I just inherited the instincts, the voice, the terrible pun addiction, and the overwhelming urge to drown my problems in ketchup?
Yeah… likely the latter.
This story already had a path laid out. But maybe… just maybe… I didn't have to follow it exactly.
One thing was for sure—I had time. And I'd figure it out eventually.
Right after I got more ketchup.