A Dropped Wallet

BtVs by Mutant Enemy, Marvel Universe and its characters/events by the parent company and its many artists and writers.


"Of course," Remy continued. "I've been around the block enough t' know my own limits, such as they are. I'm not likely to get into a brawl without having already made note of all the possible routes out of it. If I do stay in there long enough, against an opponent that clearly outclasses me, to get beaten to a bloody pulp... It'll be because I've decided de current goal is worth it."

Giles studied Remy's face intently, as if to judge the sincerity of his words.

"Well," Giles said with a half-smile. "It's not as if you're applying for a job at the highschool. That certainly cuts down on the paperwork. However..."

Giles trailed off, his eyes locking on something moving in the background just to the side of Remy's head.

He realized, to his shock that it was a customer listening intently to every word they said.

Looking around the room, he understood just how public their 'private' chat had become.

"However," Giles continued, clearing his throat loudly. "Perhaps it would be best if we could continue this conversation at a later date."

Nodding agreement, Remy turned and made his own survey of the students, tourists and practitioners that prowled the shelves of the Magic Box on any given day.


Only a few had the grace to look embarrassed.

...

It was dark inside the Sunnydale sewers, but the charged card in Remy's hand bathed the walls in a soft purple light as he trudged through the tunnels, his heavy bag secured about his chest.

Not having any particular place to go in town for the next several hours or any substantial amount of usable money to spend once he got there, he had decided to explore the underground in hopes of finding a lair worth raiding. He was also searching for an abandoned place secure and defensible enough that he wouldn't mind storing a few items for retrieval at a later date.

"Worse come to worse," Remy said with a sigh. "I may be sleepin' down here tonight. Not going to ask Giles for help again, so soon after last night, and the petty cash I put together on my cross-country trip is running low..."

He closed his mouth abruptly and, by reabsorbing the energy running through the card in his hand, returned the sewers to a state of deep shadow.

Footsteps approached from an intersection in front of Remy. In the dim light still filtering down from somewhere, he was able to make out two small figures.


One was a boy who appeared to be about six years of age, presumably with dark hair.

A girl, alike enough to be his sister, walked beside the boy.

Not only were they traveling unescorted through the sewers of a Hellmouth, they were hissing each to other in a very reptilian manner... In a way that no human should be able to do without drastic surgery to the tongue.

Frowning to himself, Remy backed up a step into a small darkened alcove, no more than one or two feet deep.

The vampire who had been standing there, pressed up against the walls, unbreathing and as still as death, wasted no time in raising the board in his hands and swinging it towards the back of Remy's head.

With a loud crack, the board connected.

Remy fell forward and hit the ground with a large thud.

The vampire's blow wasn't as bad as it could have been, but the mutant was down for the count.


The vampire for his part was clutching his head and screaming, the chip in his head firing searing pulses of energy deep into his grey matter.

"Shut up, shut up," Spike screamed through the pain. "How was I supposed to know a guy with eyes like that and glowing hands was human?"

After a few moments, the vampire was able to pull himself together. Wiping his eyes, he looked up to see the boy and the girl still standing there, watching him curiously.

"Move along, snakeheads," he said, snarling viciously as he swapped his normal human-seeming face for one with ridges and yellowed eyes. "Nothing to see here."

Hissing quietly to themselves, the two figures walked into the surrounding darkness and were quickly lost to sight.


When he was sure he was once again free from prying eyes, Spike bent low over Remy's unconscious form and began rifling through his pockets.

"Jackpot," Spike announced as he retrieved the mutant's wallet.

Opening it, he found it thick with hundred-dollar bills.

"Now what's," he managed to say, before his words trailed off. He peered more closely at the money. "That's not right."

Staring carefully at the date of circulation on the bills he flipped through them one by one, then opened the wallet wide enough to check the year stamped on Remy's drivers license.

Frowning, Spike dropped the wallet. It hit Remy's jacket-covered back with a soft thunk and stayed there, rising and falling slightly with each breath from his lungs.


Spike, for his part, turned his head towards the ceiling and asked in a loud voice: "What the Hell is going on here?"