A man sat at his kitchen table reading the Sunnydale Times, fascinated with the article the slow news day had warranted publishing on the first page.
"Oh my, such a thing found here in my town." He murmured, stoking the oddly textured scar on his face with his thumb. He'd never been considered more than average in looks, but his face had been blemish free before the Hellmouth that he'd tied himself to had mysteriously been drained of energy and shut down, possibly permanently and with it his dreams. But perhaps there was another way to achieve his goals. "Allen, arrange for this little treasure to be liberated from the Sunnydale Museum and brought to me." He instructed the little mouse of a man who'd been forced to take over the running of Sunnydale and to do it in an honest way, with his enforced seclusion. Without the Hellmouth people in Sunnydale were not so...blind as they had been. A real city government had become necessary in the wake of the loss of the Hellmouth.
"Um, are you sure that's wise, sir? The Museum is rather public. And our usual committees are no longer available." Allen Finch delicately reminded Mayor Wilkins of the inexplicable disappearance of all the vampires last Halloween.
"I'm aware of that, Allen," Richard Wilkins said with an annoyed glance. "Better than you since some of them were tied to me via the contracts they'd signed. Talk to Willy, I'm sure he can direct you to some enterprising young...people willing to do a job for the Mayor of Sunnydale."
"Yes, sir." Allen Finch wondered just how he was going to manage to do that, the increased scrutiny that accompanied Sunnydale no longer being so hidden from the world made it difficult for a public official to be seen in the vicinity of the human weasel known as Willy. But the tunnels under Sunnydale were still there, he could avoid being seen entirely if he used them. But although he was aware that they existed, he'd never been in them. "Could you give me a map of a route through the tunnels to Willy's?"
"Certainly, return this evening, I'll have it for you by then." Mayor Wilkins promised, stroking the scar and making Allen suppress a shudder, he'd thought the man he'd been forcibly tied to was a monster before and had wondered if he was technically insane. The last several months had convinced him that Mayor Wilkins was indeed insane, weakened, severely so, but still strong enough to be damn scary.
Returning that evening Allen accepted the map of the tunnels the Mayor gave him and made his way down into them, the few demons he passed knew he worked for the Mayor and that harassing him would draw long torturous, literally, reprisals from the Mayor and so they avoided him. Once under Willy's Bar he made his way up into the back room and waited for Willy.
"Oh! You scared me." Willy exclaimed when he saw the little man waiting in his back room. "What are you doing here, man? And why come through the back way, you usually come though the door when you're looking for information for the Mayor. Not that I've seen you in months." Willy moved to a crate and pried it open.
"You know very well why, Willy." Allen reminded him. "The world's changed and no one knows why. We know Magic was done last Halloween and the vampires disappeared and the Hellmouth is now defunct, but our guess is whoever did it, died doing it. No trace of whoever it was has been found."
"I know and my customers are still spooked." Willy muttered. "But that doesn't answer the question of why you're here now."
"The Mayor needs a new committee to do a job for him. He wants you to recommend some...people willing to work for him. Possibly on an as needed basis if this particular job goes well."
"Huh, is he planning to come out of seclusion anytime soon?"
"He has not said anything one way or the other. The change in government that the loss of the vampires and the Hellmouth necesitated means increased scrutiny, as you know and he's been around for a long time. Exposure is still a risk."
"Which both I and my customers are well aware of." Willy agreed, pulling bags out of the crate and setting them on a cart. "There's an up and comer that might be interested, he's got a small crew and is trying to break into the local demon black market. He's got a sense of irony."
"How so?" Allen ignored the bags with their questionable contents and kept his eyes on the little weasel.
"He's a shark faced demon, never got a name for his species and his main racket is being a loan shark for demons."
"Interesting. And odd. Where can I find him and what's his name?"
"He works out of a crypt in Restfield Cemetery, it has an access to the tunnels. The Morton crypt. And goes by Mr. Teeth."
"Funny, I'm sure. Preferred method of payment?"
"He's big into kitten poker, so I'd go with kittens."
Allen shuddered again. Kittens, it was just so...yeah. "Thanks for the help, Willy, I'll see if it pans out. If not, see if there might be any other interested parties willing to work for the Mayor, if you would, please. Anything I can pass on to him?"
"Nope, like I said, my customers are still spooked. Although, word is Wolfram and Hart is also interested in what happened."
"They know they're not welcome in Sunnydale. The demons they serve are not the demons the Mayor made his deals with. As long as they stay away, we don't have a problem."
"If I hear anything I'll pass it on."
"Thank you." Allen left through the tunnels to find Mr. Teeth. Irony, apparently some demons were capable of some sort of sense of humor, who knew?