Characters belong to Joss Whedon, Jed Whedon, Zack Whedon, and Maurissa Tancharoen. Not me. Story line does though. Quick note, I have a really hard time with Billy's speech patterns. I can get and keep him in character, but his way of talking is very hard for me. I apologize if it is incorrect here. I will keep watching to get it right.

Billy liked challenges. He loved the idea of showing someone that they were wrong. As long as it was a fight of mind.

Billy hates being told what he can't do. Screw physics, he was an evil genius. He'd do what he darned well pleased.

"Doc, really. Stop it, you're depressing."

"I miss her Moist."

"Doc, stop it. You can't change the past."

Can't change the past. Can't change the past. That had to be the worst word in the world. Can't. Can't can't can't can't can't. Who said that he couldn't do something? What gave them the right to judge what he could and couldn't do? Well, fine then. He was up to the challenge.

It took two years. Two long, painful, busy years. Mostly because he had to do it on the side. The League in all their idiocy had him doing small time stuff. Well, now he knew better, that'll come in handy. Moist didn't know, Billy had done a good job hiding it. Or Moist would have stopped him, he knew it. But he couldn't be stopped. He can't be stopped.

Oh look, he found a use for "can't."

"Hey Moist." Billy crept out of the lab, undoing his smock and dropping his black gloves onto a chair. Moist jumped from the chair to attention, his gray jumpsuit uniform catching on the corner and sending him to the ground. Shrugging off the cloth Billy tossed it onto the back of the chair with his gloves and took off his goggles. Moist stared at him.

"Oh stop it. It's not like you haven't seen me in my shorts before. Comeon, how long have we been roomies?"

"It's not that sir, it's… you know. You have been- SORRY SIR! I was out of line SIR!"

Oh, right, the "sir" thing. Yeah, about that.

"It's Billy Moist, not Horrible. Calm down."

"I'm sorry sir, but this might be a test sir."

"Uh-huh. Okay. Hey, we got any laundry detrugant?"

"N-no? I don't think we do, sir?"

"Huh, okay. Guess I gotta go get some or something. You think Sinsky has any?" Billy was in the kitchen now. It was odd, but after all this time they still lived in the stupid apartment. True, almost all the lab equipment was now up at the ELE headquarters. But some of it was still here, in Billy's room/lab behind the wall. Standing in naught but his shorts in front of the fridge he chucked down the last of the chocolate soy carton. Moist just sputtered where he stood.

Rolling his eyes Billy grabbed one of the frozen yogurts out of the freezer and sat himself at the barstool in the center of the kitchen. "Join me?"

Moist did as he was told, sitting upright on another stool as Billy hunched over the counter, scrapping the white dairy stuff off the sides of the cup.

"Dude, really. Calm down." Moist looked at him, then slumped a little. "THERE we go!" Moist gave a shy smile.

"It's really you Doc? Billy? Not, you know, Dr. Horrible? It's really you?"

"In the smock! Or, well… shorts. But yeah, it's me."

"It's been a really really long time."

"Yeah, happens. Hey, can you do me a favor?" Billy tossed the container away, standing and opening one of the drawers with the cutlery in it. Taking a knife he slipped it into a tiny slot between the forks and the spoons, lifting up the cover that hid a stash of bills. Taking one of the twenties he handed it over to his friend and henchman. "Go down and get me a bottle of laundry detergent?" Moist took the money and scrammed, so confused as to what was going on.

Half an hour later Moist came back to find Billy tinkering with something like a washing machine in the middle of the living room. Well, that explained the laundry detergent… maybe? Or maybe his boss had just totally lost it, which was more probable. Not that Moist would say anything.

"Oh hey! You're back!" Billy ran over, still only in his shorts, and grabbed the bottle from his friend. They were still friends, right? Moist liked to think they were, though really it hadn't felt like it for the last thirty three months. Billy poured the whole bottle into the little bleach-holder-thing in the corner, and threw the bottle out. No recycling? Too odd. Moist was so confused.

Billy opened the lid of the washing machine, and picked up a remote control. Then he paused, and his clear blue eyes came to rest on Moist. It had been so long since he had last seen those eyes. Calmly walking over to his room-mate, Billy gave him a smile, then threw his arms around him. Moist flinched, then relaxed, and returned the hug. It took a few moments though, as he had no idea what was happening.

"You're a great friend. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Uh-huh." Billy let go, leaving a very lost Moist to watch as he climbed practically na- no, he was fully naked now… into the washing machine. The lid was closed, and then it turned on. On? There was no water, no power, nothing to it. How did it tur-