Sans has had a lot to think about recently, and a lot of it has involved demons. He'd never had any memory of a human life before his angel one, but the visions he'd had while capture by Nightshade have left a gash in the ease of his recollection. He remembers hell, and he remembering suffering, and he remembers the hands of demons on him.

Much like there are hands on Iuliael right now.

Sans doesn't know the other angel particularly well - he expects it might be hard to know Iuliael even at the best of times - but the sight of a pack of demons already laying into them triggers a feeling of desperation, fear, and importantly... anger. It's not often Sans's sense of oncoming death is triggered by another celestial, but that is what he is feeling today, and he knows for a fact that there will be no soul to usher to the afterlife when they are done.

Sans isn't a warrior, or a guardian. Fighting groups of demons was never what he was intended for - he was meant for stealth, speed, and cunning. It was his job to whisk souls away before hell could ever get to them.

The thing is, all three of those traits do actually translate to being deadly, given some practice. Practical that Sans has made a point of having. And then there's that scream. Good thing skeletons don't have any ears.

While the world seems to shatter under the weight of that sound, Sans enters the group of demons as swiftly as a bullet, his wings and halo ablaze and his scythe drawn - by the time he's stopped, his blade has already passed through one of them.

There are no words. For now, he moves on instinct and fury alone.