A/N: Boooooooold. *coughcough* Um so yeah, I've decided to go into hyperdrive and start posting alllll the fucking time because it's summer and I can. You might have realized that already… Anyways, be prepared. I decided to post this even though it's crap. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Whedon owns this. Whedon knows he owns this. Dr. Horrible is too fantastic to be mine.

One Cent Wonder

Five years before anyone had heard the name "Dr. Horrible", a boy named Billy moves into a shabby little basement apartment on the outskirts of the city.

Two days after that, the blue-eyed eighteen year old finds himself exhausted, trudging down the sidewalk with a basket of dirty clothes under his arm and a pounding in his head. That dreaded voice was whispering again, making suggestions and prodding at him, but he didn't want to take the pills anymore and if he told his parents about it they'd only worry. Wasn't that why he'd left in the first place and rented his own place? So he could live by his own rules, no one worrying over him day and night, making sure he'd gone to his appointments and taken his meds with breakfast?

And so, rubbing his temple with his free hand, Billy finally makes it to the Laundromat.

He's glad that he decided to go in the middle of the day on a Wednesday. There can't be more than three other people and there's about forty different machines to pick from. Grunting in relief he finally sets the heavy basket down in front of an empty washer, digging in his pocket for the quarters he desperately hopes he has because he's not about to lug this thing all the way back…

Sighing, he pulls out a handful of change and lint and picks through it. Only three quarters… God damn it, he doesn't have any more clean clothes-

Billy thought that living in the city would be a relief. After living with his parents? Anything would be better than that! He'd thought that living alone, just he himself and him, would be seriously relaxing- good for his nerves, good for him.

The thing is, living in the city isn't nearly as easy as he thought. Living alone isn't as easy as he thought.

That voice in his head, the one that appeared in his dreams and spoke to him in smooth, silky, persuasive words, he thought it would go away once he had a quiet place of his own. But instead, now it's nagging at him even more. More frequently, with more volume, and it's a wonder he hasn't gone crazy yet!

Well, technically he's already crazy.

Technically.

There's so much more responsibility, striking off on his own, and Billy is starting to doubt that he's ready for it after all. He can't go crawling back to his parents, though, so he'll do his own laundry and his own dishes and manage his own money without anybody's help. And now instead of less stress he's dealing with more, and it's weakening his defenses.

Those carefully erected defenses that he'd spent so long perfecting, so long keeping the voices out of his head, ignoring them and powering through it…

His shrink wasn't going to be happy- but he was sick of her, anyways.

All of it seems like it's crashing down, driving the point home right this minute and his blood is boiling- why was he so stupid? Couldn't he have just checked if he had enough goddamned quarters before he left the house? Now he was going to have to trudge all the way back and-

"Are you okay?" He blinks his eyes back open, momentarily distracted from his internal tirade at the soft, amiable voice. The woman in front of him is just as beautiful as she sounds, wrapped in a green turtleneck and a pair of faded blue jeans, head tilted to keep the long red hair out of her large, dark eyes.

"What-" he stammered, an unwanted flush rising on his cheeks. She took pity on him, biting her lip to keep from giggling at his expression.

"Oh- you just, you looked like you were frustrated… I'm Penny." She smiled, making his heartbeat stutter in a decidedly pleasant fashion. "Is there anything I can do?"

Disconcerted, he glanced briefly down into the contents of his pockets, then back to her heart-shaped face. "Um… no. But thanks…"

Since when were people around here this friendly? Why did she care about him, anyways?

"Are you sure?" She followed his gaze, eyes glowing with understanding. Before he knew it, she was digging in her own change purse and pulling out several shiny coins, dropping them into his palm. "Here."

"You don't have to-" he began awkwardly, the tension nevertheless draining out of him, shoulders slumping. She shook her head, insistent.

"No, really. It's my gift to you. Have a better day."

He watched her bounce away, dragging a rolling basket behind her and humming a cheerful tune to herself and couldn't help the smile twitching at his lips for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Belatedly, he realized that he hadn't told her his name…

But she was already at the other end of the row of washers, loading her own laundry into the machine, and he was far too introverted to go strike up a new conversation.

Licking his lips nervously he turned back to his washer and slowly began loading it, mind whirring, feeling about ten times lighter.

What did you know… there are friendly people in the world after all. And he'd just met one comparable to an angel.

The grin broadened as no sarcastic comment bubbled to the forefront of his mind in response.

The voice was gone, too.

Maybe he could handle this.

He weighed the name of the beautiful redhead in his mind as he deposited his borrowed change, starting the cycle.

Penny…

Apparently, one cent was worth a fortune.