Sans woke up to the sound of... singing?
He sat up slowly, blinking his eye sockets as consciousness filtered back in. For a moment, he'd forgotten where he was—the unfamiliar room, the too-warm air, the distinct lack of snow outside his window. Then it all came rushing back. Hell. The hotel. Charlie.
The reset that didn't work.
He pushed that thought away before it could drag him back down into that spiral. Focus on the present. Deal with the now.
But seriously, why was someone singing at—he squinted at the clock—barely past dawn?
Sans shuffled out of his room, still wearing yesterday's clothes (not that he had anything else to change into), and followed the sound downstairs. He found Charlie in what appeared to be a combination lobby/performance space, moving around with manic energy as she sang about... something. Her movements were so animated and her voice so earnest that Sans found himself just standing there, staring.
does she just... do this? regularly?
"Morning, sunshine," came a gravelly voice from behind the bar. Husk was already nursing what looked suspiciously like whiskey, despite the early hour. "She's been at it for twenty minutes. Something about 'happy day in Hell' or whatever."
"is this... normal?" Sans asked, settling onto a barstool.
"Define normal," Angel Dust said, appearing from seemingly nowhere to drape himself dramatically across the bar. "Toots has been in musical theater mode since she got that meeting confirmed."
"meeting?"
"With Adam," Charlie said breathlessly, apparently having finished her song. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and exertion. "The first man! He's coming here to discuss the extermination, and I think if I can just explain the hotel properly—"
She launched into another song.
Sans blinked slowly. "she's doing it again."
"Yep," Husk said, not looking up from his drink.
"why is she singing?"
"Beats me. Rich people are weird."
Angel snickered. "You get used to it, bone boy. Everyone sings down here. It's like, a thing."
"everyone?"
As if summoned by the question, static filled the air and Alastor materialized in his usual dramatic fashion—complete with what sounded suspiciously like a jazz number about... something menacing. Sans couldn't quite follow the lyrics, but the gist seemed to be 'I'm terrifying and you should be afraid.'
okay, so the creepy radio demon sings too. noted.
When the music finally stopped, Alastor turned to Sans with that unnaturally wide grin. "Ah, our new resident! I do hope you're settling in well. The acoustics in this establishment are simply divine for musical expression!"
"right," Sans said slowly. "and everyone just... accepts this?"
"It's Hell, darling," Alastor chuckled, the sound like old radio static. "If you can't express yourself through song, what's the point of eternal damnation?"
Charlie bounced over to them, still riding the high of whatever musical number she'd just performed. "Sans! Perfect timing. I was hoping you'd come with me to the meeting today. You know, for moral support?"
"moral support," Sans repeated flatly.
"And protection," she added more quietly. "After yesterday... I could use someone watching my back."
That made more sense. Sans nodded slowly. "sure, i can do that. but, uh..." He gestured vaguely at the space where she'd been performing. "is the singing thing gonna be a regular occurrence? because i should probably warn you, i'm more of a... stand-there-and-look-intimidating kind of guy."
Charlie laughed, bright and genuine. "Don't worry, you don't have to sing. Though if you ever want to, the offer's always open!"
"i'll pass."
Several hours later, Sans found himself in what Charlie had described as a "neutral meeting space" but looked more like a conference room decorated by someone with a very loose grip on reality. Charlie sat across from a figure who could only be Adam—golden wings, arrogant posture, and a voice that made Sans want to punch something.
The meeting was going about as well as expected, which was to say, terribly. Adam was dismissive, crude, and seemed to take personal pleasure in shooting down every one of Charlie's carefully prepared arguments.
Sans stayed in the background, arms crossed, watching. His job was to keep Charlie safe, not to negotiate. But listening to this pompous asshole tear down everything Charlie believed in was starting to get on his nerves.
Then Charlie started singing.
Sans blinked in surprise as she launched into what sounded like a heartfelt plea set to music, her voice carrying all the passion and hope she'd been trying to convey through words alone. She sang about second chances, about the possibility of redemption, about seeing the good in everyone.
oh, she's really going for it, Sans thought, watching her pour her heart out in musical form.
Adam, predictably, responded with his own song—a crude, mocking counter-melody that tore down every point Charlie made. His lyrics were dismissive and cruel, reducing her dreams to naive fantasies.
Sans had to admit, despite the subject matter, they were both surprisingly good singers. But watching Charlie's face fall with each cutting verse from Adam made his hands itch to summon some blue magic and remind the angel exactly what happened to people who hurt Charlie.
The musical back-and-forth continued, with Charlie growing more desperate and Adam growing more dismissive. By the end, it was clear that not only had she failed to convince him, but she'd probably made things worse.
When the song ended, Adam waved them off with a smirk. "Cute performance, sweetheart, but the answer's still no. Maybe try community theater instead of running a hotel."
The walk back to the hotel was quiet, Charlie's earlier enthusiasm completely deflated. Sans walked beside her, occasionally glancing over to make sure she was okay but not pushing her to talk.
"that was... intense," he finally said as they approached the hotel's front door.
"That's one word for it," Charlie sighed. "I really thought if I could just make him understand..."
"hey." Sans stopped walking, causing Charlie to pause and look at him. "you gave it everything you had. can't ask for more than that."
"But it wasn't enough."
"maybe not today. but giving up after one asshole says no? that doesn't sound like the charlie i met yesterday."
Charlie managed a small smile. "Thanks, Sans. I'm glad you were there."
They pushed through the hotel's front doors, and immediately Sans could tell something was wrong. The atmosphere was tense, and there was a gray-skinned demon with white hair and an X over her eye pacing back and forth in the lobby.
"Charlie!" The demon rushed over, her single visible eye blazing with anger and worry. "How did it go? Did he—" She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed Sans. "Who the hell is this?"
"Vaggie, this is Sans," Charlie said quickly. "Sans, meet Vaggie, my girlfriend and the hotel's manager."
Vaggie looked Sans up and down with obvious suspicion. "Your girlfriend who should have been the one going with you to that meeting," she said pointedly, her gaze fixed on Charlie.
"Vaggie, we talked about this—"
"No, we didn't talk about it. You told me you were taking him"—she gestured sharply at Sans—"instead of me, and then left before I could argue."
Sans could feel the tension crackling between them and decided to step in before this escalated further. "look, uh, vaggie, right? i wasn't trying to step on anyone's toes. charlie asked for backup, and i was available."
"Backup?" Vaggie's voice rose an octave. "I'M her backup! I'm the one who's supposed to protect her, not some random skeleton who showed up yesterday!"
"vaggie—" Charlie started.
"Don't 'Vaggie' me," she snapped, rounding on Charlie. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? You went to meet with Adam—ADAM—and you took someone we barely know instead of me!"
Sans held up his hands peacefully. "hey, she's got a point. if i were in your position, i'd be pretty pissed too."
Vaggie blinked, apparently not expecting agreement. "You... would?"
"sure. you care about her, you've been protecting her longer than i've been around, and she picked the new guy over you for something important. that's gotta sting."
Some of the fire went out of Vaggie's expression, replaced by hurt. "It does."
Charlie stepped forward, reaching for Vaggie's hands. "Vaggie, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to replace you or make you feel left out. I just... I thought having Sans there might help show Adam that we're serious about security."
"And how did that work out?" Vaggie asked, but her tone was less angry now.
Charlie's face fell. "It didn't. He shot down everything I said, basically laughed at the whole idea, and made it clear he has no interest in giving us a chance."
Vaggie's expression immediately softened. "Oh, Charlie..."
"so now that we've established that i'm not trying to steal your girlfriend," Sans said, "maybe we can focus on what comes next? because something tells me this adam guy isn't just gonna forget about this place."
Both women looked at him, and Sans shrugged. "just saying, in my experience, powerful people who feel threatened tend to escalate things. and your little song-and-dance routine probably made him feel pretty threatened."
"Great," Vaggie muttered. "That's exactly what we needed to hear."
"look on the bright side," Sans said with dark humor. "at least now we know what we're dealing with."
Charlie sank onto one of the lobby couches, looking exhausted. "I just don't understand why he won't even consider it. What's so threatening about the idea that people can change?"
Sans exchanged a look with Vaggie, who seemed to be thinking the same thing he was. Sometimes the most dangerous thing you could do was give people hope.
"because," Sans said quietly, "if people can change, then maybe the system isn't as perfect as everyone pretends it is."
As they walked back through Hell's twisted streets, Sans found himself thinking about what Adam had said. About sinners not changing, about being in Hell for a reason. About redemption being impossible.
Six months ago, he would've agreed completely. Hell, six hours ago he might've agreed. But watching Charlie refuse to give up, seeing her fight for people who probably didn't deserve it...
Maybe Adam was wrong. Maybe change was possible.
Or maybe Sans was just starting to hope again, which was probably more dangerous than any demon they might encounter on the way home.
But as Charlie hummed quietly beside him—not quite singing, but close—Sans decided that maybe dangerous hope was better than safe despair.
At least for now.
When they finally made it back to the hotel, the entire group was gathered in the lobby with barely contained excitement. Angel Dust was practically bouncing off the walls, while Husk looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Charlie! Charlie!" Niffty zipped over to them, vibrating with manic energy. "You have to see what we made! We worked so hard on it!"
"We made a commercial!" Charlie's face immediately brightened, some of her earlier disappointment melting away. "Really? You guys made a commercial for the hotel?"
"It was mostly the spider's idea," Husk grumbled, taking another swig from his bottle. "Don't blame me for whatever crime against media you're about to witness."
"Oh, come on, whiskers," Angel grinned, throwing an arm around Charlie's shoulders. "We put our hearts and souls into this thing. Well, what's left of 'em anyway."
Alastor materialized beside them with his usual dramatic flair. "Indeed! Though I must say, modern technology leaves much to be desired compared to the golden age of radio."
Sans found himself curious despite everything. After the disaster with Adam, maybe seeing what the residents had come up with would help Charlie's mood.
"Alright," Charlie said, settling onto the couch with renewed energy. "Let's see it."
Vaggie sat beside her, taking her hand with a small smile. "This should be interesting."
The group gathered around as Angel fiddled with what looked like an old TV set. "Okay, okay, everyone shut up. This is our big debut!"
The screen flickered to life, and Sans had to admit, they'd put genuine effort into it. The commercial was chaotic, definitely amateur, but it had heart. Charlie watched with growing delight as each resident appeared on screen, promoting the hotel in their own unique way.
"Oh my gosh," Charlie laughed, covering her mouth as Angel's segment played. "You guys, this is amazing!"
Even Sans found himself cracking a smile at their enthusiasm. It was rough around the edges, sure, but there was something endearing about how hard they'd tried.
The commercial was just reaching its climax when the screen suddenly cut to black.
"What the—" Angel started, smacking the side of the TV.
The screen flickered back to life, but instead of their commercial, an official-looking broadcast filled the screen. The Heaven logo appeared, followed by Adam himself, looking as smug as ever.
"Attention, sinners of Hell," Adam's voice boomed through the hotel's speakers. "Due to recent... developments... and the overpopulation crisis, the next extermination has been moved up."
Charlie's blood ran cold. "Moved up?"
"That's right, freaks," Adam continued with a cruel smile. "Instead of waiting a full year, we'll be seeing you in six months. Hope you're ready."
The broadcast cut back to regular Hell programming, leaving the hotel in stunned silence.
Charlie's face had gone pale. "Six months," she whispered.
"Well," Husk said dryly, "that's not ominous at all."
Sans felt that familiar chill run down his spine—the same feeling he'd gotten before everything went to hell in his own timeline. "this is about today, isn't it?" he said quietly. "about the meeting."
Charlie nodded numbly. "He's punishing us. Punishing Hell because I dared to suggest that people could change."
"Hey," Vaggie said firmly, gripping Charlie's shoulders. "This isn't your fault."
"Isn't it?" Charlie's voice cracked. "I pushed him. I made him angry. And now everyone's going to pay for it."
Angel Dust, for once, wasn't making jokes. "So what do we do now?"
All eyes turned to Charlie, who looked like the weight of Hell itself had just settled on her shoulders. Sans watched her struggle with the guilt, the fear, the responsibility.
"We make it work," she said finally, her voice steadier than Sans expected. "We have six months to prove that rehabilitation is possible. To show that this hotel can save lives."
"Six months to save all of Hell," Alastor mused, his grin somehow both encouraging and terrifying. "How wonderfully dramatic!"
Sans crossed his arms, studying the group. They were scared—he could see it in their faces. But they weren't running. They weren't giving up.
Maybe there was something to this whole redemption thing after all.
"well," Sans said, breaking the heavy silence. "Guess we better get to work."