Chapter Text
Knees folded under you, hands resting on your thighs, you took a small breath, closing your eyes. Old, charred wood assailed your nostrils. You exhaled, breath huffing out quickly, impatiently, as if it felt just as trapped in your lungs as you did in this dilapidated structure.
You took a breath in again, and your nostrils complained, wishing for a scent other than that rotting wood. You empathized, but knew that nothing would change. You, your nose, your lungs; You were all stuck here. Forever and alone, sitting atop the charred stain of what was once your freedom, in an impeccably clean abandoned shop. You reminisced of a time when you didn’t feel stuck here in this empty shack. A time where the charred stain was not a stain, but a soft, walking smile.
And so you stayed here, a wayward silky tied to plot of land by a charred mark on the ground, and memories.
Slamming doors. Fire. So much fire. Fear. Calling out, running. Tears.
You shook your head. Living in the past was not a way to live at all. Although, it was mostly what you did nowadays. It had been nearly a century of nothing. A century of loneliness, living in an empty, run-down structure in an abandoned marketplace. Did anyone even know of your presence? You had heard a man walk by maybe 3 years ago. He had stopped by your home, and even walked in. You hid in fear, and he left quickly, mumbling something about prices. That was your only visitor.
This was your existence now.
You were lonely.
So lonely.
______________
The barrier had broken.
You knew from the past that there were creatures other than you traversing the land. Monsters, they were called, and they lived as the Humans did. They were not tied by the rules that you were.
You didn’t know why.
The humans did not either.
And as you and your brethren were spared by the ties that bind, the monsters were not.
War. And then a magical barrier that pulled at all beings that relied on magical sustenance. It tickled the back of your mind. Stronger for you since you lived so near the barrier, at the base of a mountain that lead to the deep underground. But it was still just a presence that was just and simply always there.
And now. It just and simply... wasn’t.
You wondered If that would change your lonely life, but quickly dismissed it. If humans deemed your living space as useless, why would monsters think differently? Therefore, you thought not of the missing tickle in your mind, and continued on with your miserable, dazed existence.
That is, until you heard voices again....
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“It’s been abandoned for as long as anyone can remember, and all it is to me is a hinderance, paying taxes and what-not.”
Voices...
“... sssooo... I’m not going to do anything to it before i sell. If you want to demolish the place, or fix it up or whatever, that’s all on you, understood?”
Voices.... in your empty town...
“...okay. So Yeah. Umm. I was thinking I’d sell it for around 100 thousand, if that sounds reasonable? It’s a prime location, on the corner of the lot... and if your... uhh... kind are going to make this town your home, then it’ll be a great location for a bar. Wha’ddya say?”
You looked up with blank eyes at the door of your little run-down home. You could see a silhouette and a glow. You blinked, mind still hazy from your previous half-asleep state.
“Okay! Great! I’ll.. Uhh... I’ll get the papers for you to sign and stuff... uhh... Yeah... Thank you! I’ve been trying to sell this place forever! You’re a lifesaver!”
The excitement of the one voice you’ve been hearing jostled you slightly from your daze, and you listened more intently, curiosity piqued.
“Feel free to go in! Look around! It’s not much, but maybe you’ll get new ideas? I dunno. I don’t really care, it’s yours now!”
Suddenly, you were on your feet. Someone was coming in? Someone was-! Silently, you sprinted across the large open space that was your “home,” and bolted into the back room to the far left before barely peeking your head out to watch. The door jostled slightly, and then opened. Light flooded into your home, and when the door shut behind your visitor, it stayed. Light footsteps pattered across the floor, and the figure stopped in the middle of the open space. You dared to peek a little more out to see-
Fire.....
Fire..!
You froze, mind reeling at the image of fire...Fire! Standing in the middle of your shop. The last time there was fire in your home...
You couldn’t move. You were petrified. You felt the tears as they threatened to fall, but you could do nothing about them. Here was the thing that took your freedom, your peace, your joy, your...your...
“Don’t worry about me, dear.”
Your...
“I’m only human.... You knew this would happen sooner or later.”
Your...
“Live on, my little Silky. Be happy for me. Can you promise that?” A hand on your cheek, smooth, hot, but firm, even as it lost it’s strength...“Promise me, _____?”
You couldn’t move. The Walking Fire bent down, examining the charred remains of your previous life, and your silence became vocalized for only a brief moment. One little squeak, and the head whipped toward your location.
He had not seen you yet, but he had stood. He was walking toward you. Panicking, you retreated more into the back room, immediately heading for the cupboard in the back. You were small, yes, but not tiny. The large cupboard hid you with minor discomfort, and the door swung silently shut just as the Fire Man entered the room. You heard his footsteps as he walked around the room, stopping periodically. You could feel your heart in your chest, and your magic screaming in your ears to run. To hide. And to protect your home. You ignored them, holding your breath as the footsteps came closer to your hiding place, stopping in front of the cupboard.
Complete silence followed, only interrupted by the almost silent crackling and popping that absolutely terrified you. Fire had taken your life so many years ago, and now it was going to take it again, and all you could do is hide in a cupboard and cower. The realization only made holding your breath even harder, tears slowly staining your face.
The footsteps started again, walking away now, and it took all of your might to not let out a loud sigh of relief. You heard them as they retreated. You heard the door open. The door close.
...
It took you a couple of hours to feel safe enough to leave the safety of the empty cupboard. Even then, you still jumped at even the muffled cries of the crows outside.
_________________
“Do you mean a squatter? No! That town has been abandoned for so long, it’s practically uninhabitable.” The landlady laughed, waving her hand dismissively at Grillby. The bartender and the Landlady sat across from each other in the Landlady’s house, paperwork strewn out in front of them. Grillby had been halfway through all the needed signatures when the occurrence in the building had come to his mind again, and he had to ask the woman.
He had sworn that he heard something, and had followed the sound to the back room. Almost immediately, he had seen it. In the cupboard on the right wall, a soul rested. A soul like he had never seen before. It wasn’t a monster soul- but he questioned if it was human, as well. It was a soft, translucent grey-blue, and it shimmered and wisped as if it weren’t quite... solid, persay.
In that moment, he had wanted to open the cupboard, sate his curiosity. But he had seen the shivering of the soul, the almost unbridled fear that came from the soul in waves. He was sure if he opened that cupboard, whatever was in there would probably die of fright. So, he left it alone. Walked away, walked out. Maybe it was a ghost, meandering its way through, and terrified of a monster it had never seen before....
Either way, after the passing of the landlady, he had dismissed it. The owner of the peculiar soul was probably long gone by now, so he did not make himself worry about it.
Signing the last of the papers, and writing a hefty check (which made the landlady’s eyes boggle at the amount of zeros on one legal note), he shook her hand and was off. He’d sleep in the underground tonight, and then travel with many a monster to their new town, and begin working on his new bar.
He smiled at that thought, and hummed happily during his return.
His mind, though, couldn’t quite ignore the little reminders of the wispy soul that resided in his new bar.
He came to the conclusion that if you were still there tomorrow, he would risk a greeting.
_________________
You were sweeping the corners when you heard the footsteps again. Funny, how fear can make you remember how even footsteps sound. You were quick to hide again, this time not in the cupboard, but rather on the second floor, where the shop face changed into more of a home. Yes, it was more empty than a regular home (on account of abandonment), but due to your cleaning, there were still some items in almost perfect condition. A couch in the front room. A kitchen table in the kitchen to the left, between an open doorway, and a bed in the one room branching from the wall to the right of the kitchen. The rest of the upstairs flat was empty, but perfectly clean. But you guessed it came with the territory of being a Silky.
Keeping a home clean, warm, and homely was your life. But... without people to live in the home you created... a clean home was still not a home without the smiles of a family. Or at least another person.
“Smile one last time for me, my silky... please...”
You shook the thoughts from your head, (it wasn’t hard with the cold terror slowly rolling up your spine) quickly finding a hiding place under the bed as you heard the slight creaking of the stairs. You quivered in fear as you heard the footsteps approaching for the second time. A door closed, causing a small jolt in your arms. If this continued, you felt as if your very essence would just dissipate in shock.
Why couldn’t he just leave? Why was he in your home? Why was fire in your home? You wanted it to go away. Please just go awa-
You jumped and screeched when the darkness of your hiding spot fled at the sight of the orange glow. a face of fire had appeared near yours, the fire man bending down to look under the bed.
Your screeching continued as you scrambled out from under the bed, arms and legs flailing as you crawled. Freeing yourself from under the bed, you quickly took off toward the exit. The door was closed, but that did not stop you.
You closed your eyes as you fazed through the door, not stopping or faltering for even a moment as you passed through the strong oak. You continued, long strides taking you to the stairs when you felt a wisp of heat pass by your ear. Your eyes grew wide when you saw that wisp of heat keep going, one orange flame curling past you, and then materializing into the fire man at the top of the stairs. Letting out another screech, you scrambled to change your direction, now heading toward the kitchen.
You had to-You had to escape! You could just make it to the kitchen, get around him, and flee back down the stairs. You just needed to get to the stairs! You passed through the doorway, and expected him to follow-as fire did, but when you turned around to attempt to pass through the doorway again, you stopped in your tracks.
The figure of flame had not followed you into the kitchen as you had hoped. Rather, he stood in the doorway, blocking your exit, staring you down. You stared at him for a moment before sprinting to the right, attempting to reach the wall. You had enough magic to do another faze. Just one more- But he took a step to the side, and blocked your path. You juked to the left, and he did as well. Your breathing became panicked as you realized you were stuck, and you retreated to the corner, whimpering.
“Please,” you begged now, “Fire, fire, fire please. Please no... My home... Please...” You could only babble incoherent words in your panic, and you dropped to the ground, tears streaming down your helpless face. You barely acknowledged him as he stepped forward to meet you in the corner. You only flinched and cried more as he knelt in front of you, and just stood there.
Stood there... mocking you. Mocking your fear....
He held out a hand, and you only flinched more, babbling more fearful mantra.
“I won’t hurt you.” He spoke, and you froze up, muscles tensing. The fire just. Fire just spoke! You looked up, and stared into the glasses of the Fire Man. You could not read his expression, but his voice was calming and careful. He stayed where he was, not moving closer, but not relenting either.
“I am not the fire you seem to know,” He assured in a calming tone, but his voice crackled like the fire so many years ago. You wanted to listen to him more, but at the same time his voice rang terror in your ears and sent chills down your spine. You retreated as far as possible into your corner, and he seemed to notice, pulling back slightly. He reached into his pocket now, slowly as you watched him in guarded trepidation. He pulled out a piece of paper, and held it, raising it slightly closer to you.
It did not burn.
Your eyes grew slightly wider as you stared at the perfectly not-burning paper. In a brief moment of bravery, you snatched the paper from his hand and retreated once more, looking the paper up and down. No magic laced it, no wax covered it. it was just paper.
The paper lit first and fast, causing you to scream as the fire spread across his front faster than you could reach him...
You shivered, and released the paper as if it had burnt you, but otherwise looked at the man in front of you. He held out his hand in invitation, and you knew what he was offering.
Tentatively, you reached out your hand and touched his. It was warm, but not hot. It was somehow soft, and it filled you with emotion.
You had not touched another living being for over a century. As your hand curled into his, your loneliness hit a peak that you had never allowed it to, and it broke your will, flooding you with agony and grief. Tears overflowed from your eyes, pouring down your face and pooling at your cheeks. Your mouth dropped open as you silently sobbed, neck tense and eyes wide. You could barely breath as your mind attempted to juggle intense fear with intense loneliness, all brought on by the one man standing in front of you, your hand in his.
Smooth, hot, but firm...
His grip tightened on your hand, and you looked up. The hand not holding yours was outstretched, wide and welcoming, and you knew what he was offering. Decades of loneliness overpowered the fear of the fire that turned your home into a house, and you barrelled forward, accepting his embrace as your silent sobs turned into loud wails. He wrapped his arms around you, surrounding you in a warmth you haven’t felt in over a century, and stroking your hair in a way not even he could.
In that moment, you concluded that he wasn’t as scary as you first thought, and maybe, just maybe, you weren’t vehemently against him standing in your house.
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“So she’s the reason the inside of your shop is pristine while everything else out here is rusting, moldy, and dusty as hell?” Sans questioned as he walked behind Grillby, both carrying rather large boxes from a pick-up truck to what would soon be the new Grillbz. Grillby pushed the door of his new shop open with his backside, letting his skeleton friend walk in first, him following shortly. Grillby nodded, and Sans smiled.
“And she refuses to leave the shop.” Grillby nodded again.
“And she doesn’t like to be seen...” Nod again.
“Huh. That’s soap interesting.” Grillby glared, placing his box on the ground, and motioned for Sans to do the same. With both boxes placed, they retreated outside to get more.
The furniture had already been taken of, and Grillby was pretty proud at how the shop looked almost completely identical to how it was underground, albeit cleaner. During the move, Sans had asked to see the mysterious woman many times, but Grillby’s answer had always been a curt shake of his head.
You had been quite shaken for a long period of time, and it was only after you had calmed down and let him go that he looked you up and down. You wore a simple outfit: A faded grey dress that appeared to be over a century old. You sat in front of him for a while longer, wiping your eyes and apologizing quietly. Your eyes matched your dress; a stormy grey looked up at him with a toiling expression. He stood and walked to the table in the kitchen. Noticing the lack of chairs, he went to sit on the table itself. At the almost outraged cry and cold glare you gave him, he took that to be a “don’t you fucking dare,” and he stood instead. You got to your own feet, and you both just stood there awkwardly. After a short period of time, Grillby excused himself. You had looked at him, puzzled, but did not stop him.
When he returned with boxes, your puzzled face only expanded, but as the furniture began to move to their rightful places, you began moving with more purpose; almost as if you were on autopilot, you fluffed the cushions and righted the chairs. You dusted the counters he and Sans had placed in the bar area, and polished the scratched table tops and booths he had added until they shined like brand new.
For a moment, he even swore he heard you hum lightly. But he couldn’t listen more than a moment before you heard the footsteps of Sans, and retreated before the skeleton could enter the shop. When Sans came in and saw the disappointed look on Grillby’s face, he had only blinked a few times and muttered a confused, “what?” before Grillby waved it off.
With Grillby’s instruction and Sans’ magic, the bar’s furniture was completely set up by the end of the day, minus the wall-to-wall alchohol collection and the kitchen’s food. When Sans offered to help with the apartment on the second floor as well, Grillby politely turned him down, his mind turning to your face. He’d rather you be comfortable, as it seemed you were not leaving.
Plus, he was rather tired from a day of moving items. Maybe he’d just bring in some essentials and call it a day. He had a mysterious woman to talk to anyway...
_______________
At the same time that you were apprehensious about a new inhabitant in your perfectly maintained home, you could not contain your glee at having a furnished place to traverse again. The sound of footsteps through your house almost made you giggle; you were not alone anymore! Even if you did not know these people, they were here! You could listen to them talk, move around, do things. You were excited! Nervous and shy, but excited!
You had stayed upstairs for most of the day today, only coming down when the second monster was not there. You had blanched in horror at the sickly sight of the tops of the furniture brought in, and had quickly fixed it, but other than that, you had simply watched the Fire Man go about his business. You could admit that he fascinated you. How could something so destructive walk with such grace? It was as if he was created to question the very nature of fire.
He had caught you staring more than once, and each time, you quickly averted your eyes, a soft blush painting your face. Maybe you heard him chuckle. Maybe you didn’t. You refused to admit.
After a while, you had retreated fully to the 2nd floor; the Fire Man’s friend had stayed more frequently and for longer, and you did not feel comfortable. It was later in the day, when you were curled up in the corner of the couch that you heard the squeak of the stairs again. The 4th step. No matter how you tried, the 4th step never stopped squeaking. You felt like a failure sometimes because of it’s stubbornness.
The couch dipped at the Fire Man’s weight, and you chanced a glance in his direction. He was looking at you. You quickly looked away.
Yup. That was a chuckle. The crackling of flame that laced his voice still sent shivers down your spine, and you flinched slightly. His laugh dropped almost immediately, and he cleared his throat once. You looked at him again, and his flames flickered a bit, burning higher.
You acknowledge that as his form of a smile and one of the most terrifying things you have ever seen at the same time. You swallowed your fear and returned a shaky smile. Seemingly satisfied, he turned away, facing forward on the couch, and relaxing.
Silence before this day was agonizing and lonely. This silence, though, bloomed a warmth in your heart that was not unlike the warmth of his arms around you. You could feel a peaceful drowsiness fall over you like a blanket warmed in the sun, and you let your eyes flicker shut. Your breath became even, and you curled even more into the couch, letting a small smile touch your face.
“May I ask...” His voice caressed your ears, and you moved your head a bit to show you were listening. “...What...are you?” He questioned, and your soft smile grew only a bit more.
“Silky.” You answered, shifting on the couch until you could rest your head not on the arm-rest, but rather the back of the couch. Your knees pulled up a bit, feet on the couch now, and you relaxed, more ready for a small nap than you were before. You continued drowsily. “I’m a house spirit. I’ve cared for this home for over a century and a half now. I’m tied to it.” You let out a soft yawn, blinking a few times. Grillby looked at you, at your peaceful face, your half-closed eyes, and couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and touching your foot, only right then realizing they were bare.
Your feet were cold, and you let out a small hum of approval as his hand rested over them.
“How long...”
“My previous owner died 120 years ago.” you answered his silent question, fully closing your eyes as images of his... you blocked it out, refusing to let it ruin your first calm in a very long time.
“Oh.” the Fire Man sounded remorseful, and you appreciated it. Fire Man. Oh. Right.
“What is your name?” You opened one eye to look at him. His face, previously looking toward the kitchen, turned to look at you. He let out a soft chuckle, and the cold terror weakly tickled your spine. You ignored it as best you could.
“Grillby.” he said simply, and you hummed in response. That sounded good. Grillby. Yes. You could call him that. “And you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. You blinked.
“I’m a silky.” You answered simply, looking at him confused. Silky’s had names, but they were rarely used. Normally they were either called Silky, or they were named something different by their “owners.” No one asked for a Silky’s name...
“I’m not just going to call you Silky,” he looked at you with a soft smile. “You’re a person too, ________”
You smiled at the memory. Your first owner was a kind person.
“I’m not going to call you Silky.” Grillby answered sternly, sounding almost shocked. You looked at him, blinking a few times. “You have a soul. So you have a name. And I will respect you.”
You swallowed, your heart blooming once again with a heat you hadn’t felt in over a century. It traveled up to your throat, making it difficult to speak for a moment before you almost whispered your name to him. His flames flickered in satisfaction, and you jumped only slightly, the warmth in your heart counterbalancing the chill in your spine.
“________. How fitting.” He nodded once. You blushed, looking down.
“Thank you...” You muttered, ears feeling like fire. He nodded again, and then rested his head back against the couch.
You fell into silence again, and it wasn’t long before you faded into sleep, dreams filled with comfort for the first time in forever.