I'm very pleased to post the first couple of chapters of my new Spike/Xander fic today! This is actually the idea that inspired me to start writing fanfic in the first place, but I want this story to do be done right so have continued to fiddle with it (and thanks to my betas it's now very different - and I think, much improved - than when I first scribbled out this story). So I decided that the lynnevitational would be the perfect motivation to get the fic presentable. For today I have the first 2 chapters ready and hope to post the following chapter next week (hopefully Harry Potter won't be too distracting!).

Title: If I Can’t Dance
Author: cordelianne
Chapter: 1
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,496
Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, Joss own them.
Summary: Set in season 5 and basically follows canon, although there will be twists and changes along the way. This chapter begins shortly after "Buffy Vs Dracula" and Xander's line: "As of this moment, it's over. I'm finished being everybody's butt-monkey!"
Beer is definitely of the good. Beer makes the bad stuff seem all fuzzy.
Xander drinks some more beer and glances around the Bronze. It’s the usual Monday night deadness. Not actual dead people, just the not-many-people deadness.
A/N: Written for the lynnevitational, thanks to germaine_pet for hosting this shindig!
Thanks go out to the awesome electricalgwen, savoytruffle and spookymonkey for their invaluable pre-reading, betaing and support. Any mistakes are mine (and you're always welcome to point out my mistakes).




If I Can’t Dance
by Cordelianne

CHAPTER ONE


Beer is definitely of the good. Beer makes the bad stuff seem all fuzzy.

Xander drinks some more beer and glances around the Bronze. It’s the usual Monday night deadness. Not actual dead people, just the not-many-people deadness.

Out of his left eye he recognizes a certain shade of bleached blond hair. He suspects this won’t make the night any more fun. Fun levels may go down. Not that they’re high right now, but he doesn’t want them to plummet into the negatives. That would be bad.

He quickly turns his head, hoping Spike doesn’t see him. Xander’s supposed to be avoiding drama tonight, or so the still-rational part of him reminds himself. He’s still suffering a drama hangover from last night.

Anya had cried. Xander had felt horrible.

Anya had cried some more. Xander had handed her tissues and tried not to feel like a complete jerk.

After enough time for a complete mental list of all the crappy things he’d done in his life, Anya had stood up and clenched her hands together. Xander had braced himself for the vengeance.

“You - I –” She paced a few steps away. “Why – ugh.” She turned back towards him. “This is very frustrating. I’m so upset I don’t know what to say.”

“I – uh – you don’t have to say anything.” Xander looked up, meeting her eyes. “I’ve mentioned I’m sorry, right, Ahn?”

“Yes. And you seem to be very sincere. My heart hurts right now. I need to go home.”

And she had, her big eyes still brimming with tears.

Xander drains his beer. Alcohol isn’t working, his guilt hasn’t gone anywhere. He can see Spike out of the corner of his eye again.

Life isn’t fair when a mass murdering demon is enjoying a game of pool and Xander’s the one racked with guilt. He feels anger building. This is more like it, he tells himself.

But no more drama, the shreds of his rationality remind him.

The rest of him says, Fuck that. Bring it on.

Xander’s not up for arguing with the majority opinion. He feels himself standing in a gleeful rage and walks – definitely doesn’t stagger – towards Spike.

“Look who’s out scaring the local pool ball population.”

“Harris.” Spike flicks his eyes over Xander. “Let me guess, you’re trying to scare people by threatening to puke on their shoes.”

“Alcohol’s my friend tonight. There will be no puking.”

“If you say so.” Spike returns his attention to the pool table and lines up his shot. He executes it with a grace that reminds Xander of the fluidity of motion his P.E. teachers had blustered on about. And they’d thought Xander hadn’t been listening.

Wait. Why is he watching Spike play pool? He remembers something about hate and guilt.

He has guilty feelings about Spike?

Suddenly the pool table is slanting and Xander has a weird feeling in his stomach. A hand grasps his elbow and the world rights itself again.

“Did we just have an earthquake?” Xander asks.

Spike pushes Xander down onto a nearby couch.

“Only for idiots who can’t hold their liquor.”

“Hey! I’m not an idiot.” Xander looks back at his empty bottle on the bar. “And I’m not drinking liquor, I’m drinking beer.”

“Right. How’d I make that mistake?”

Xander nods seriously and then starts to laugh. Maybe he is a little bit drunk.

“Wait here,” Spike orders.

Xander watches Spike stalk off. He wants to walk like that, it’s sexy. Give his hips just enough sway that no one can keep their eyes off his ass.

Of course, Spike’s probably alerting the other demons that there’s an easy victim on the couch. Ha! Xander’ll surprise them, he won’t be easy. He’ll show them a thing or too.

No demon magnet here!

He’s still shaking his head when Spike seems to materialize in front of him. A bottle of water is shoved in his face. Xander automatically takes it, and tries to open the lid.

“This is made of cement,” Xander says.

Spike sighs, yanks the bottle back and opens the lid in one swift movement, then shoves the water back in Xander’s face.

“Here.”

Xander starts drinking.

“There a reason for all this?”

Spike sits down beside him and slings an arm along the back of the couch. He holds a full beer bottle in the other hand.

Xander thinks. “I like beer.”

“Works for me,” Spike says.

They sit in silence and drink.

“I broke up with Anya.”

Spike lifts his beer at Xander. “Love’s a bitch.” He takes a large swig.

“I guess. I didn’t love her.” Xander looks at Spike, who’s a bit blurry. “Wait, why am I telling you this? You’re evil.”

“Got that right.”

Xander feels really tired. He rests his head against the back of the coach, and on something that feels like a cool arm. Ahh! Cool arm! Xander sits up quickly but that just causes the world to tilt. His elbow is firmly grasped again.

“Stop being an idiot and flailing all around,” Spike says.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I don’t flail,” Xander says. “I’ve never flailed in my life, buddy.”

“Uh huh.” Spike raises an eyebrow. “Did a pretty good imitation a second ago.”

“I was just moving away – uh – why is your hand still on my arm?”

Spike yanks his hand back quickly, and wraps both hands around his beer bottle.

“Drink your water,” he says.

Water. Sweet refreshing water. Xander wants to write an ode to the water, one of those really long poems that rhymes and talks about how wet and good it is.

Hey, that girl looks like Buffy, he thinks.

“Xander! Are you alright?”

He blinks a few times trying to focus the blonde girl in front of him. “You look like my friend Buffy.”

“I am Buffy. You are drunk.” She gives him a once-over. “Spike wasn’t lying. I’m marveling at that oddness.”

“Would I lie?” Spike asks, in a not-quite-believably innocent tone.

Xander starts laughing. Buffy sighs.

“Hey!” Spike stands up. “I deserve a little gratitude for calling you to come get this drunken idiot.”

Buffy grabs Xander and pulls him to his feet. Spike reaches into Xander’s coat pocket and extracts his wallet with a speed that would make pick-pockets proud.

“I’ll just have Harris buy me a few more beers as a reward for being such a good Samaritan.” He takes some bills out of Xander’s wallet and they disappear into his coat.

Buffy puts her hand out. Spike tosses the wallet from one hand to the other. It’s a stand off.

Except Xander’s not so much standing as leaning on Buffy and not caring about money right now. “It’s okay. He can have it. It’s all good.”

Spike shakes his head and hands it over. “It’s no fun if they’re that pathetic.”

Buffy sighs. “As weird and just plain surreal as this is to say, thanks for looking after Xander, Spike.”

“It was worth it just to hear you thank me,” Spike says.

“Don’t get used to it.”

Buffy wraps her arm around Xander and guides him toward the exit. Spike turns back to the pool table.

“Are we leaving the beer?” Xander asks. “I like beer.”

“Now I know how you felt when I was into the beer,” Buffy mumbles. She raises her voice. “You shouldn’t like beer, it’s not of the good.”

“No. Beer is good. Beer good.”

“No. Beer is bad. Beer bad,” Buffy says. “And that was a total reverse deja vu moment.”

“No fair speaking French, college girl.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we all know how good at French I’m not,” she says as she helps Xander into the back seat of her mom’s Jeep. Through his haze Xander recognizes Riley in the driver’s seat.

He turns around to look at Xander. “Doing okay, there?”

“Yes. Good. Good.” He rests his head on the seatback. “Never better.”

“I just hope we can get him home before he pukes in my mom’s car.” Buffy climbs into the passenger seat. “She’s not a fan of puke smell.”

“Really? It’s my favorite,” Riley says. Buffy rolls her eyes. “Okay, that wasn’t funny.”

“You’ll be home soon,” Buffy tells Xander. He nods.

“Who knew that picking up a drunken friend would be the highlight of my evening?” she muses.

“It is weird that both the apocalyptic cult and the Arundud demons were already dead,” Riley says.

“It gets weirder,” Buffy says. “I’d thought maybe it was Spike – you know, having the violent fun – but he was at the Bronze.”

“Definitely weird.” Riley brings the car to a full and complete stop at the stop sign. “What do you think it means?”

“We have a new player in town,” Buffy says. “And I’m going to find out who.”

Cults, Spike at the Bronze, a new player. It all makes as much sense as a financial report to Xander. The only thing he gets is tired. He closes his eyes.



Continues here.