Carpe Frenulum

Part Four

The Bronze was teeming with high school and college-aged students dancing and chatting to each other over the rock band on stage. It was crowded at the club, which was normal for a Friday night. Buffy was lucky to snag a table for herself by the steps leading to the loft-area, and the table beside her was still empty.

Sipping her Diet Coke -- not that she needed to watch her hips any longer -- Buffy alternated between watching Dawn laugh and dance with her friends, watching Xander watch Dawn while he played billiards, and flirting with the guy over by the flyer-plastered support column, never mind the fact that he thought he was flirting with another he and not a she in he-form.

Buffy had given up on the "Am I gay or not?" internal debate. She was only going to be in a male body for a month so it really didn't matter. It wasn't as if she was planning to get close enough to another person, male or female, where there would be touching in a more-than-friendly manner. Besides, flirting was harmless fun, and the guy was really cute.

The guy smiled. Buffy smiled back and was about to point to the empty chair opposite her in invitation when she was startled by close-sounding, very familiar voices. She turned quickly, and saw Xander push Spike into a chair at the table next to hers. Her eyes landed immediately on Spike's face. A large portion of it was coated with dried blood, having come from a wicked-looking cut running horizontally from one ear, across his cheeks and nose, and ending at his other ear. But other than that, he looked exactly as Buffy remembered, including the oh-so-daring black-on-black clothing ensemble.

"If I don't pretend to care about you, who will?" Xander was saying, a frown etched between his brows. He soaked a napkin with beer from the bottle he'd been drinking, grabbed Spike by the chin, and began wiping at the dried blood.

Spike hissed, but didn't flinch. "I don't think using beer is quite sanitary, Harris."

"I highly doubt you'll die from an infection," Xander murmured.

Dawn appeared suddenly, squeezing behind Buffy's chair to reach Xander and Spike. "Hey, precious," she greeted, ruffling Spike's bleach-blond hair.

"Hello, pet," Spike returned with an extremely fond smile. The cut, where it crossed his nose, began to bleed.

Dawn whistled faintly. "Nasty cut. What happened?"

"Bugger had a whip-tail," he replied. He tilted his face up as Xander continued to clean him off. "Wasn't expecting that."

"Hmm." Dawn dug into her purse and removed a Ziplock bag filled with first aid supplies. "I take it tailboy is dead?"

"Him and all his friends," Spike confirmed as Xander finished.

"All clean," Xander said, exchanging places with Dawn.

Dawn peeled the backing from a band-aid and stuck it diagonally across Spike's nose where he was still bleeding. On the band-aid, Garfield's 'brother' Odie frolicked on a field of bright blue.

Buffy couldn't help it. She giggled. She so had to stop doing that. Real men didn't giggle. Nor did they wear purple or eat quiche. It was in the unwritten man rules that she suspected Riley made up to get out of eating her cooking.

Her manly chuckle must've been kind of loud, because Dawn, Spike, and Xander all looked in her direction. Way to keep unobtrusive, she thought. She could feel her ears heat up at having been caught.

"I know you, right?" Dawn was the first to address Buffy. "You're Brett."

"And you're Dawn," Buffy said, unable to help her smile when both Xander and Spike frowned the same as Willow had earlier that day. "Hi, again."

"Pet, are you going to introduce us?" Spike asked in an unfriendly tone.

"Yeah, um, Xander, Spike, this is Brett. He's in one of Willow's classes," Dawn said. "We gave him a ride this morning."

"Car break down?" Xander said suspiciously.

Buffy was happy to see Xander's protectiveness of her sister, but now she had to come up with a plausible lie. She decided to stick with what she'd told Dawn that morning. "I was out for a walk, just enjoying the sun," Buffy said, brushing her fingers purposely over the bandage on her neck.

The wariness reflected on Xander's features became understanding. "I know how that goes," he said. "You should stop by The Magic Box and pick up a pamphlet on Sunnydale's 'nightlife.' It'll answer the questions you probably have."

Buffy made a quick decision. "I was there earlier today," she said. "You looked great in your bridesmaid's dress, by the way, Dawn. The color complemented your skin tone and the cut was perfect for you."

"Sounds like Anya's been showing the wedding pictures again," Dawn said, beaming with the compliment.

Buffy smiled tenderly at Dawn. "All 682 of them." She shifted her gaze to Xander and lied some more. "And now I know why you looked familiar. I would've recognized you easier if you were wearing that sharp tux."

It was Xander's turn to beam. "It was pretty sharp." Spike, who'd been quiet until now, snorted derisively. Xander casually smacked the peroxide blond upside the head. "Shut up, bleach-for-brains."

Dawn waved to someone and gathered her purse. "My friends beckon," she said. "Great seeing you again, Brett. Later, everyone."

"Let us know when you're leaving," Spike told her before she pushed into the crowd.

Buffy watched, a smile playing on her lips, as the willowy brunette rejoined her friends. Dawn seemed perfectly okay in light of her sister's death a year ago. Buffy was glad to see Dawn had taken her final words to heart: to live.

"Dawn's a pretty girl, isn't she?" Spike said.

Buffy turned and frowned at him. Spike better not have a thing for Dawnie, she thought, before replying, "Yes, she is."

"She's also 16," Spike said bluntly, staring hard at her.

Buffy was immediately relieved. It was Big Brother Spike, not Jealous Boyfriendly Spike. A shift in her gaze caught Xander giving her the same evil eye. She suddenly felt a gush of emotion for the two men, and tears pricked her vision. Hopefully, her glasses and the dim lighting of the Bronze would hide her watery eyes.

"She reminds me of my sister," Buffy said, which wasn't actually a lie. Dawn was her sister, however, she wasn't Brett's.

"That's good to hear," Xander said. He clapped his hand on Spike's shoulder. "Odie and I are gonna shoot some pool. Want to play?"

Buffy gigg-- chuckled manfully at Spike's new nickname. "I'd love to," she agreed. If she was going to break her self-imposed 'avoid her old friends' rule, she might as well do it right and go all the way.

She stood. Spike stood. Buffy stifled a laugh as she found herself towering over the vampire. Spike was short! She never realized how not-tall he was, considering she barely topped five-two when she still had breasts. Xander was standing behind Spike, and Buffy could see the brunette's eyes clearly over the top of Spike's head.

She pivoted on her heels so her back was to the midget vampire, freeing her to grin wildly. She would bet Dawn was now taller than Spike, too. Heh, heh, heh.

Buffy made her way to the billiard's tables, half-full Diet Coke in her hand. A game was just ending, and she, Xander, and Shortstack chose pool cues. They decided on a multi-player game where you hit the balls into the pockets in numerical order, save for the eight-ball which still was shot last. At least, that's what Buffy understood the game to be. She'd played billiards a total of two times in her life, if she counted using the pool cue as a weapon.

The Little Vampire -- manly chuckle -- shed his duster then went to get a couple beers. Xander broke, the multicolored billiard balls clicking and scattering across the surface of the red felt pool table. Buffy watched as three balls dropped into three separate pockets. Xander proceeded to knock in three more balls before he missed.

"Next," he said with a friendly smile.

Buffy set aside her drink, wiped her hands on her jeans, and pretended to know what she was doing. She wrapped her fingers around the cue stick like they did in the movies, eyed the white cute ball in relation to the striped one she was supposed to hit into a pocket, and let her rip.

The cue stick burned her fingers.

The tip scraped the surface of the pool table.

The white cue ball didn't move an inch. She'd missed entirely.

Face burning with humiliation, Buffy scurried to where she'd left her drink, gulped it down, and pressed the semi-cool glass to her hot cheek. She hated not being good at something. She couldn't play the cute-blond ditz either and save face. She wasn't blond anymore.

Spike returned, passed Xander one of the two beers in his hand, and took his turn. He sank two balls, then missed.

Xander sank one, then missed.

It was Buffy's turn again. She concentrated hard, doing everything she could to mimic the Paul Newman movie The Color of Money. Her pool cue made a horrid sound as it scraped along the felt. The cue ball actually moved this time, an entire inch.

"Here, try this." Buffy was beyond surprised when Spike moved close and adjusted her bridge hand. "Your knuckles make an automatic notch," he told her, setting the cue stick on top of her hand. "Try now."

Buffy's brow furrowed, but she tried again. The pool cue slid much easier, and she hit the cue ball with a solid thwack. It sailed across the table, bounced off the rail, and returned almost all the way to her.

"Next time, aim at one of the colored balls," Spike said in a conspiratorial whisper. "Now, shove over. It's my go."

Buffy was amazed, and not because she'd actually hit the cue ball. Spike was being friendly. Nice, even. It was weird. Spike had never been nice to her before... well, that wasn't entirely true. After the Buffybot debacle, Spike had been a toad-prince among toads. Still, Spike was being friendly to a "stranger," and it wigged her.

Buffy finished the game in a wary, watchful manner, paying close attention to Spike's behavior. He said, "Move, please," if someone was in his way. He and Xander bickered like comfortable friends. He continued to be friendly with her, too. She noticed they both looked over in Dawn's direction often, keeping an unobtrusive eye on her. Buffy also noted that Spike got plenty of attention from "concerned" girls with his healing cut and that silly band-aid on his nose. He flirted with them briefly, then sent them on their way. For some reason, the flirting annoyed Buffy the most out of all of Spike's odd behavior.

She was quite pleased with her own flirting, however. Near the end of the game, the cute guy she'd been playing smile-exchange with earlier came over to say hello. His name was John. He was even cuter up close.

"Want to play?" Buffy asked with a nod to the pool table after the first game was finished. She smiled her ditzy blond girl smile. "I have to warn you, though, I put the b-a-d in bad."

The smile must still hold power even though she was no longer a girl, because John agreed instantly.

"Table's all yours," Xander said, passing his pool cue to John. "Spike and I have to go, anyway. Dawn looks ready to leave and we have to pa-- work. We have work to do."

Buffy caught the slip. They were going to patrol. Guilt slammed into her. She was the one who should be patrolling, not shooting pool with a hottie. It was her job, not Xander's. It wasn't Spike's job, either, but she knew he could take care of himself and it was a way for him to vent his vampiric lust for violence.

Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, was dead, a snarky little voice taunted Buffy in the back of her mind. She was Brett now, with no responsibility or duty to fight evil and protect the world. She had no Slayer strength or skill. She was normal. She was... like Xander, only taller. And that revelation did nothing to alleviate her guilt.

Buffy turned to John, an apologetic expression on her face. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'm, uh, expecting a call in... soon. Maybe another time."

John gave her a sad smile. "Maybe another time."

Buffy handed him her cue stick, sort-of waved, and went after Spike and Xander.

Part Five

Buffy tugged at her hair in frustration. "Math sucks," she snarled. She received several shushes from the other students seated at the table with her at the University library. "Well, it does," she grumbled, sinking lower in her hard wooden chair. Even with Mick's patient help earlier that evening, she still had no clue what she was doing. "Math is supposed to have numbers, not letters."

More shushing from the other students. Buffy wanted to tell them where they could shove their shushes, and decided she'd been doing homework for too long. Shove their shushes?

Perhaps another workout would clear her math-addled brain, Buffy thought as she gathered her books. On Friday after luckily failing to catch up with Spike and Xander, Buffy realized that she would have been more of a hindrance than a help to them. While her brain had all the knowledge of how to fight, her new and gangly body caused her to fall on her ass more often than not. Her center of balance was different, and she overextended on her kicks. She could still throw a punch, but it lacked oomph. At best, she'd be able to surprise a vampire before it ate her.

Buffy hooked her backpack over her shoulder, stood, and was surprised herself by a vampire leaning casually against the Return counter. What was Spike doing at the University library? There was no way he could be looking for something to read... could he?

Spike noticed her staring, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Buffy took that as a sign to go over and ask him what a vampire like him was doing in a library like this. She could probably pull off the Bogart imitation with her deep Brett-voice. Too bad she wasn't supposed to know Spike was a vampire, or that his presence was odd. She'd have to gather information subtly, which meant she could still imitate Bogart's Sam Spade. It also meant she shouldn't have watched the A&E Bogart marathon last night.

"Hi, Spike," Buffy greeted without hesitation as she joined the peroxide blond. She noted that his cut was completely healed. No more Odie band-aid. Darn. She stifled the urge to snicker, both at the memory of that band-aid and at having to look down at him.

"Brett, yeah?" Spike said tentatively. At Buffy's nod, he relaxed and glanced around. "You haven't seen Dawn, have you?"

"Uh, no," Buffy replied, worry stirring in her stomach. Her hand clutched the strap of her backpack. "Should she be here?"

Spike tipped his head almost to his shoulder to read the watch on Buffy's wrist. "Anytime now."

Buffy frowned in confusion. If Dawn was just arriving at the library, why was Spike there? "Are you here to help her with a report?" she voiced her question.

Spike smirked. "If the report is on clubbing, then yes."

"Clubbing?" Buffy said in disbelief, easily catching on to what Spike meant. "On a Sunday night?"

"There's a boy involved," Spike confided. He added, in not-so-subtle warning, "A boy who's the proper age for Dawn."

Buffy was really getting annoyed by the inferences that she was after Dawn. She decided, then and there, to put a kibosh on it. "I'm gay, all right? So stop with the hints. And it's a school night. Willow is letting Dawn go on a date on a school night?"

Spike's brow shot up. "Why do you care if Dawn goes out?"

"I told you Friday, she reminds me of my sister," Buffy repeated her semi-lie. "And I know I wouldn't let my sister go out on a date on a school night."

Spike sighed. "I don't want her to go either," he said, "but if I don't take her, she'll sneak off on her own. This way, at least I can keep my eye on her." He straightened suddenly. "Here she is. Mum's the word, eh?"

Hell, no. Buffy wasn't about to let Spike take Dawn anywhere, as chaperone or otherwise. Dawn shouldn't be allowed to get away with lying to Willow and Tara about her whereabouts and sneaking off to be with a boy at some unknown club on a school night. A quick call to Willow would put a halt to this nonsense. As for Spike...

"I can't believe you're helping her get away with this," Buffy fumed, glaring down at him. She took a step closer, invading his space, hoping to intimidate him by her size. "You should be taking her straight home and she should be grounded."

Spike wasn't impressed by her towering height. Then again, he'd never been all that impressed by her, even when she could beat him up without breaking a nail. "Doesn't work like that."

Dawn bounced up beside them, carrying her backpack and smiling madly. "Hi, guys!"

"Sweet Bit," Spike said, eyes still on Buffy's. "You ready?"

"Yep," Dawn said with bubbly enthusiasm. "Willow said I had to be home by eleven o'clock."

"Then we'd best head out."

"Brett, are you coming, too?" Dawn asked, suddenly all innocent-looking. "You can keep Spike company."

Buffy jumped at the offer. She couldn't force Spike to take Dawn home, but she could make sure Dawn behaved. "I'd be happy to come, too."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's bolt." He sidestepped Buffy and started for the exit.

Dawn grinned, bounced, and hurried after him, leaving Buffy having to hustle if she didn't want to be left behind.

And she definitely wasn't going to be left behind.

*****

Slivers was the Bronze of Carbondale, a twenty minute drive from Sunnydale... at 90 miles per hour. Buffy couldn't fathom how Dawn had expected to get to the club if Spike hadn't driven her, even if he did drive like a bat out of hell, pardon her bad vampire joke. Fear churned in Buffy's stomach as scenario after scenario played through her mind of what could've happened to Dawn had she run off on her own. Perhaps Spike had been the lesser of evils in this case. Which, when she thought about it, sounded really funny.

The boy Dawn had come to the club to see was very nice looking and, in Buffy's opinion, a good catch... if it wasn't her sister out on the dance floor with him, moving wantonly to the popular music blasting from the speakers set high on the walls. There weren't too many kids at the club, which might have something to do with it being a school night, Buffy thought dryly, sitting at a tall table with Spike, drinking soda and watching Dawn.

Buffy didn't like the situation -- Dawn should be at home -- but she was very impressed with Spike. The trust she'd given him during the Glory debacle was not misplaced. He watched Dawn like a hawk without smothering her. Unobtrusive protection.

What Buffy couldn't figure out, though, was why. Why was Spike still playing Big Brother to Dawn? It wasn't to earn points with Buffy, since she was "dead." The vampire had a no-stakage guarantee as long as he was chipped, even if he didn't help. It couldn't be for fun; Buffy knew for a fact that Spike's idea of fun involved spilling bodily fluids, whether other demons' or his own.

Another Spike conundrum Buffy was puzzling over was his behavior towards her. Or rather, Brett. Spike didn't know Brett Anderson from Adam... though he did know an Adam, so maybe that was a bad saying. Still, Spike didn't know her. Him. Warning: identity crises on the loose.

In "reality," the peroxide blond had just met Brett on Friday, shot a single game of billiards with him, then left. There was nothing to indicate that the vampire perhaps knew Brett was really Buffy. Spike was simply more friendly towards Brett than he was to others. It was bizarre. Spike was bizarre. He was sarcastic, slightly rude, and a little disgusting, but he was also chatty, good-humored, and quite animated when rambling on about some war series he'd recently seen on cable. It was if he was relaxed. The desperation that had seemed to hover over him was gone. Also gone was the need to prove himself to Buffy. Right now, he was... just Spike, without the malicious aforethought.

And surprisingly, Buffy was enjoying herself with him. Repeat: it was bizarre. But so was the fact that she had things in common with him. Not Brett, not the role she was playing, it was Buffy herself that had things in common with Spike. Spike. They both liked hour-long dramas over half-hour comedies on television. They both liked comedies at the movies, but neither of them could stand the fakeness of action or horror. They both were of the opinion that all music should be played loud or not at all. Winter nights in front of a fire over summer nights at the beach. Cats over dogs. Plain vanilla over chocolate.

The last one was the wiggiest commonality, and shut Buffy up for awhile. She shouldn't have anything in common with Spike at all, let alone something so odd. Rarely anyone preferred plain vanilla over chocolate unless hot fudge was involved.

Buffy sipped her Diet Sprite. She wondered briefly if her straw sucking was too feminine, and shifted the straw to the side of her mouth like she'd seen Xander do. Across from her, Spike licked salt from his fingertips, an order of spicy fries sitting on the table in front of him.

Spike and his food, Buffy thought amusedly. She had no idea if it was normal or not for a vampire to like to eat. They didn't seem too fond of the stake she offered them, but that was probably because it was made of wood and not tender beef.

Buffy wouldn't be offering a punny-meal to a vampire anytime in the near future, though, unless she was the main course. Slayer-Buffy was gone. In her place was Buffyboy and her Amazing Penis.

Watching Spike from beneath her lashes, Buffy wondered how Spike would react if she told him who she was. Would he be happy? Freaked? Scared? Think she was nuts? Would he grab Dawn and run? Would he grab Buffy and hug her?

Would he still love her?

Buffy almost choked on her soda. That last thought flew out of nowhere and slapped her on her stubbly cheek. Buffy didn't want Spike to love her. It was bad and wrong and a very large no-no. Spike was a vampire. She didn't do vampires. Been there, done that, had the dead teacher to prove it.

That annoying little voice in the back of her mind snorted. Don't flatter yourself, it taunted. Did she really think Spike would be pining away for her? He probably had a new girl already... and why did Buffy care? Good for Spike, if he did have someone. And the jealousy she felt was because he had a relationship and she was alone, so there.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Buffy asked over the hysterical laughter from that stupid little voice in the back of her mind. He was going to say yes, and she was going to be super-ducky with it. She folded her hands around her glass and looked expectantly at him--

--and saw pain. Raw, heart-ripping pain reflected in his eyes and face, which stabbed Buffy in the gut with its intensity. The emotion was gone in a flash, and Spike's expression was set in a blank mask, making Buffy wonder if she'd imagined what she'd seen. The ache in her abdomen proved differently.

"No, I don't," Spike answered succinctly, and turned his attention in Dawn's direction. "Dawn's the only woman in my life, and that's how I want it. So if you're thinking of setting me up with someone, forget it."

"I was just asking," Buffy said defensively.

"And you've been answered."

*****

Spike took a long sip of his beer, keeping his focus on Dawn and her date. His eyes narrowed when he saw where exactly said date's hands were, but before he could move Dawn took care of the wandering limbs on her own. Good girl.

Brett shifted uncomfortably on the stool across the table from Spike, a red flush tinting his ears. The vampire pressed his lips together in a thin line. Women were a very sore subject with Spike and he got short-tempered when dateable females became the topic of discussion. However, he actually felt bad for snapping at Brett, which was odd. Then again, everything about the night so far had been odd.

Spike gave Brett a sidelong glance. The vampire couldn't figure out what it was about Brett Anderson that piqued his interest and caused him to blabber on like Willow on caffeine. The brunette was a tall, neatly groomed, square-jawed Joe College-type, with a pair of specs that magnified his deep whiskey-colored eyes. The old scar cutting across his cheek Spike identified as made by a knife, and he could see a few other scars that could only come from fist-fights, proving there was a bit of rough-and-tumble to the clean-cut young man. He was pleasantly deep voiced, too. His way of speaking and mannerisms were a tad girlish, but that was to be expected since he was a shirtlifter.

Spike wasn't looking for any type of emotional entanglement, or sex, so his interest in Brett couldn't be attraction. Still, he found himself drawn into conversation with Brett as if he was looking to make friends.

Spike did not need or want a friend. He had Dawn to take care of, the Harrises to take care of him, and the witches to avoid lest he get mothered to death. Xander and Anya only cared if Spike was well enough to protect Dawn. Willow and Tara cared about Spike's well-being and it had gone quite far beyond the point of annoyance. He could only take hearing "how are you doing?" so many times before he wanted to tie the witches' tongues around their heads.

The answer was always the same, anyway. How was he doing? He was still walking and talking, wasn't he? And it seemed that today he was making a new friend, if he hadn't bollixed it up. He should get a biscuit.

"Listen, mate," Spike said with a put-upon sigh. "I'm not interested in the ladies, but since you aren't one, it doesn't matter, eh?"

Brett nodded slowly. His dark brows furrowed above the rims of his gold frames. "Wait, does that mean you're interested in guys now?"

"Hoping for a date, are you?" Spike said with a smug smirk.

Brett immediately looked horrified, and Spike's puffed-up ego deflated rapidly. He changed the subject quickly. "Never mind. What time is it?" the vampire asked.

"Ten-forty," Brett replied with a glance at his watch.

"I'd best round up Dawn." Spike took a final sip of his beer, set the bottle aside, and stood. "Wait here," he told Brett before winding through the tables towards the dance floor.

Spike stepped up behind Dawn, eyed where her date's hands rested on her hips, and cleared his throat loudly. Dawn looked over her shoulder, and groaned unhappily. "Time to go already?"

"Your pumpkin awaits," Spike said, shooting a glare at Dawn's fellow. "Say goodnight, and let's go."

"Goodnight, Tim," Dawn parroted dutifully. Then, she kissed Tim with blatant use of tongue.

Spike growled low in his throat, knowing the little bint was doing it to raise his hackles. The devious smile she gave Spike confirmed it, when she stopped licking her date's tonsils.

"Call me," Dawn chirped to Tim as Spike latched onto her arm and dragged her from the dance floor.

Spike collected Brett, and the three of them exited Slivers. They piled into the black Trans-Am that Spike had 'acquired', and sped back to Sunnydale, hard rock music rattling the car's windows.

He dropped off Dawn first, reminding her to take her backpack. He normally chauffeured her home from the library when she really was studying, so Willow and Tara would once again be duped. He waited until Dawn was safely indoors before continuing on to the University.

"This is me," Brett said, gesturing out the passenger window to the brick four-storey dormitory. "Hendrix Hall, room 305. Home, smelly home."

"Don't forget your bag, either," Spike said after turning down the car stereo. He smirked. "I know I don't plan on doing your Maths course work. I barely passed the first time round."

Brett studied Spike intently for a moment, then nodded as if coming to a conclusion. "You're a good Dawn-sitter," he said. "I don't agree that she should've gone out on a school night, but I'd rather you'd be watching out for her than her sneaking off on her own."

Spike quirked a brow. "Glad you approve," he said with slight sarcasm.

"Right. I'm Brett. I'm not related to Dawn," Brett commented mysteriously. He opened the car door, started to get out, and paused. "Take care of her, okay? She's really like my sister and..." Brett didn't finish his thought. He instead gave Spike a wavery half-smile and climbed out of the car.

Spike watched as Brett's long strides ate up the pavement until he disappeared inside the dorm. Frowning at the sudden feeling of loss, Spike put the car in gear and headed home.

Epilogue

"Spike, uh, hi," Brett said upon opening the dorm room door. "What are you doing here?"

It was a good question. One Spike didn't know the answer to, and so he lied. "I was in the neighborhood, visiting someone else, and I thought I'd say 'hello.'"

By the skeptical expression on Brett's face, Spike's lie was as lame as it sounded, but he truly didn't have a reason for seeking out Brett. Spike didn't like humans, except for a select few, and he wasn't that hard up (though he hadn't gotten laid in more months than he had fingers.)

There was something about Brett, though, that had caught Spike's interest. Something that tickled low in his belly. It wasn't Brett's looks. Granted, he wasn't ugly by any means. He was long, lanky, square-jawed, and had perceptive eyes hidden behind thin frame glasses. Perceptive eyes that were assessing Spike in a way that made it clear he thought Spike was a nutter, which he was, most likely. Still, it wasn't Brett's looks that had Spike walking to UCSunnydale a few days after they'd met; it was just a feeling he had that he wanted to know Brett Anderson.

Spike tucked the tops of his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked on his heels. He gave Brett a small smile. "Fancy a beer, mate?"

The Beginning