Living on the streets was not easy. Sans began to realise how much for granted he took of everything when it became difficult for him to find food or shelter. He never knew if he'd be able to eat or where he would sleep next.

The only things in Sans's satchel were a spare change of clothes, some money, a photo of him and Red, and some food that had quickly run out within the first few days on the streets.

That first day without food brought a hunger that had only grew stronger. But eventually, he learned to push it aside, even when the hunger pains never left him. He begged for food and riffled through garbage, anything to get him by.

Sans had wandered for some time alone, sleeping wherever he could find a place out of the way of people. But then he finally met a group of homeless humans and monsters alike and decided to stay with them.

They weren't a family; it was too difficult to even take care of just yourself. But the feeling of being surrounded with others in the same situation brought a, not exactly relief, but a feeling of  togetherness. Safety in numbers.

And that's where it all started.

Sans had never really been a stable person, to say the least. His self hatred led to his own doctrine of never trying. He always gave up because he believed himself to be worthless and pathetic. Everything he did did not matter; his own actions more frequent than naught disgusted him.

That ever present self hatred was now increased tenfold with the image of his soulmate holding someone else's hand still fresh in his mind. The pain in his soul never seemed to go away, as if it was constantly reminding him of his transgression.

The thing about the homeless was that there were more unstable people surrounding him now than his previous life had ever had. Illegal drugs and shots were prevalent with easier access to the underground sellers.

It seemed obvious that he would be drawn to these dangerous devices. Not in a desperate search for relief, no. He knew others used these drugs as a tool to escape their lives, if somewhat temporarily.

Sans wanted them for his ultimate plan of retribution. His payment to his horrible act. Nothing could ever make it up for what he had done. But the closest he could manage was continuous punishment, everlasting suffering for himself. Because he deserved it. He was the vilest of all creatures, and something like him only deserved endless pain and misery.

He tried many different illegal drugs, using what little money he had pocketed before he had left his old life forever. Marijuana, cocaine, LSD, meth. He discarded ones that gave him any feeling of euphoria or happiness, even though the feelings were only fake. He wanted to make himself suffer and pay for what he had done; he didn't deserve happiness, even a fake, stimulated one.

Some days, Sans felt so sick he couldn't move. His skull pounded, his entire body ached. The hunger pangs only heightened the intense feeling of misery and pain coursing through him. Sometimes he wondered if he would die from his drug usage.

But then he forged on, and forced himself to stand and keep going. He didn't deserve the final release of death from his misery. His death would bring nothing.

Sans summoned his soul in front of him, the inverted heart swirling with the crimson of determination. He smiled ironically to himself as he viewed the glossy surface of his ruby soul.

It was unusual for a monster to have determination as their main trait, especially since it had the tendency to melt a monster's body. His father had performed a great many experiments on him as a child, the earliest one being this.

While still merely a souling, Gaster has injected human determination straight into his very being. Surprisingly, his soul absorbed the energy instead of rejected it, most likely because it was still developing.

Sans's death at the hands of Red's brother only reset the world again. Unlike the human however, Sans could not save or reset on purpose. His death was the only thing that stimulated the reset, and he could not control how far back it went.

Poor Frisk.. He chuckled to himself, twirling his soul over his hand. They had lost the ability to reset after their arrival on the surface. The kid didn't seem too upset about it though. Perhaps their satisfaction with achieving this "perfect ending" allowed their power to finally rest.

Sans suddenly dragged the sharp tip of his phalange across his soul, hissing at the pain that exploded there. He didn't deserve death He wanted himself to suffer, wring his tired body so tight that his bones snapped and he couldn't breathe.

No, want wasn't a good word. He hated himself and he hated everything he was doing to himself. Everything hurt and stung, both mentally and physically, and he wished it would all end. But then he thought of his lover. His beautiful Red, broken down until he had committed suicide..

And he had taken pleasure in seeing his lover slowly break. Watching the larger, rougher skeleton bend to his will: a weak and small skeleton such as himself. He had felt so powerful. If he wanted, Sans could make Red do almost anything.

How could he ever have done that to his lover? His true soulmate? The pain when he had learned what he had drove Red to do could only be paralleled by the pain he now felt for losing Red in a very different way. He could never have him back.

And although his soul felt like it was literally crying tears of desperation for its mate, he knew there would be no answer. So he turned inward on his own self punishment and let his pain and misery fester within him, hoping that his slow and painful death would somehow rid the universe of his foul presence.