Disclaimer:  It is with my deepest regrets to tell you all that I do not own Spike or his body or any other part of the Buffyverse.  Joss and his band of merry people have all the rights.  The new characters are mine though, so no touch, no touchy..

Distribution: If you desire this story at some point, ask me first.  Otherwise I will be a brassed off author J

A/N: The title of the fic is taken from the song of the same name sung by Doris Day. The band CAKE did a cool cover, but it's the other version that inspired this fic. 

Feedback is so much appreciated as this is my first posted fic and I would love to hear what you all think.

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps
 Chapter 1: The Proprietor

 He had heard rumblings, rumors from some of the slack jawed demons that came in at happy hour, when they were guaranteed to have an audience. Yes, he heard their whispered tales, but didn't put any stock in them.
The speculation was that a tough senorita was in town kicking major demon ass. She was described as a short, blonde and beautiful. Sometimes, she was a tough senorita with jet-black hair and a machete. This menace has been everything from a child, the devil incarnate, to his own former description, bleached blonde male draped in leather.

For the first few years he did paid attention. He believed the rantings of the pathetic creatures he'd never keep as minions. His undead heart would swell at the mere thought of her presence being so near. He would wait till almost dawn, walking the streets of Buenos Aires hoping to catch that scent of vanilla, confidence and the supernatural all wrapped around each other. He knew that combination, that tortuous aroma that filled him nightly, driving away all rhyme and reason.
And so, with his heightened senses he waited, stalking the night for any sign of her. But she wasn't there; she was never there.
After one too many nights of patrolling, all in vain, he killed the dream. If he lived till the end of the world, he'd never forget her. Never feel that way about anyone ever again. But, it seemed as if the awful apocalyptic moment was a long way off, so he needed to fill his nights and even his days with something, something to pass the time.
And then, Joaquin, his beacon, died, leaving him, of all creatures, his club, La Luna Loca.
And still the demons' talk of a mysterious woman burned his ears. But that was all. He felt nothing for it anymore. He welcomed it for the customers and the money he made, Joaquin would be proud.
So, when one of these snitches claimed to have seen her, the Slayer, he laughed. Why would she be in Argentina in the first place? Despite the protests to the contrary he refused to give in. He didn't want to dwell on his past. He was happy, for the most part. And content, for the most part. He was lonely though. He would stretch across his bed at night to touch her, kiss her neck, only to have the dream condemned by some other woman's sighs at his cold caress.
No, he had no faith. Why would she come? She wouldn't, long and short. So, he downed a shot of tequila and submitted to Carlotta's plea for a dance.  She loved this song, she always said.  He wouldn't have chosen it, not a big Doris Day fan.  But, for Carlotta, he'd do almost anything, almost, and that included doing a tango, a dance he did well.

Exceptionally well. From her vantage point she saw the vampire, oddly dressed in white, glide across the floor with a long legged dark haired beauty. She was definitely enjoying herself, her arms about him, enjoying his nearness. Both let out a laugh as he unexpectedly dipped her backwards. Her fingers danced on his shoulders, his rested on her twisting hips. A slight twinge shot through her chest, making her release the breath she unconsciously held.
At the conclusion of the dance, everyone applauded the duo and the orchestra. Spike grabbed two glasses of champagne off a passing tray and handed one to his companion. He then tapped the glass with the silver rings on his fingers. The clinking sound caught everyone's attention.
"Listen up everyone. You should all be receiving champagne because I have a toast to make." He paused while everyone got their drinks. "A toast, to this lovely lady beside me. We all wish her well on the eve of her wedding."
Wedding?! Well, that was surprising unless...
"Best of luck to Carlotta. You'll need it when you marry that git over there."  Spike gestured to a table in the corner.
Clem stood up and went to hug his fiancé. The crowd clapped for the happy couple.
"Cheers, mates!" He gulped down his glass of champagne. "Drinks are on the house." This gesture was welcomed with many hoots, hollers and even "You're the best, Spike!"
Buffy watched him weave through the packed club. The people revered him! They shook his hand, patted him on the back, smiles plastered to their faces.
He was headed away from her and she followed him from her stool at the bar. Still as beautiful as ever. She could see the outlines of his muscles through his thin white sweater. His pants must have been tailored to perfection, flowing over his lean, toned legs. Tailored? Spike?
Suddenly all of her confidence vanished. As she sipped her sea breeze, doubts raced through her head. Her heart pounded in her chest so fiercely she had to glance down to make sure it wasn't noticeable.
"How funny," she thought, looking at her attire, "he's wearing white and I'm in black."
She gulped down the rest of her drink, which thankfully, was free. She had to do it; she was here for a reason after all. How to get his attention without causing a scene?  She was worried about his reaction to her presence in his life again.  God knows, she wasn't too keen on being here either.  She did not hate the vampire, but Buffy had visions of him flying off the handle and starting a fight or worse, running away again. A peaceful gesture needed to be made. 

Peaceful, ha!  Their last meeting was anything but peaceful.  Buffy closed her eyes to the memory flooding forth.  It did not bring the same revulsion that once was a part of daily life.  It just brought pain, pain from a time when she was at her lowest, as was he.  She saw the look on his face when he saw what he was doing.  And then he was gone.  Gone without a trace.  And she was happy with that, for awhile.  But, over the past years, Buffy accepted many things about her life, she wasn't perfect, neither was Spike.  At the rate they were both going into the deep recesses of darkness, someone was bound to get seriously hurt.  Buffy moved out of the horrible place and it seemed that Spike had too.  She was glad for him, honestly glad.  But, that did not calm the butterflies in her stomach from doing the mambo. 

Spike stopped at a table full of his favorite Loca customers, including Clem and Carlotta. He sat down at the table with his comrades, all of whom were still sending congratulations to the betrothed. A true smile spread across the vampire's face. as he observed them. He was genuinely happy for Clem. He was his best friend after all. And yet, when he saw that jovial glint in Carlotta's deep brown eyes, his heart sank. It was something that he never saw looking back at him.
"Got something for you, Boss," a waiter said as he put down a napkin and a glass.
"What's this, Larry?"
"Scotch and O neg on the rocks compliments of the striking blonde at the bar.
Chuckles spread around the small crowd. "Spike's got an admirer. Always a ladies man," were the popular comments. Funny thing was, Spike was not a ladies man per say. Oh, he was a shameless flirt definitely, but very few women had peaked his interest enough to be allowed to his bed.
Scotch and O, that was his favorite. He even liked it with... Then he noticed the napkin. Something was written on it. He picked up the dark blue paper to see the inscription clearly. "Sorry I didn't have marshmallows."
Spike whipped his head around to the bar and saw the blonde. Shock overtook him at the sight of her. She smiled at him, shyly. His face was motionless. He just stared at her, his blue eyes tempted to pull from their sockets. She was there. She was real.
"Well, look who it is." Clem's voice prompted Spike from his haze.
After regaining his senses, Spike raised the glass to Buffy and took a sip. He was glad Larry made the drink otherwise he might suspect it had been laced with holy water. The last time he saw Buffy was not a happy memory, one he tried to suppress for the past five years.
Buffy stood up from her stool, her offer having been accepted, and made her way through the masses to Spike.
He turned to Clem with a look of confusion etched into his features.  What was he supposed to do? Clem just smiled at him. He was happy to see the Slayer. Plus, nothing could spoil his fabulous mood tonight.
The two men stood as the lady arrived at the table.
"Congrats, Clem," she greeted right before she hugged the demon.
He grabbed her and lifted her from the floor. "Thank you so much. Oh, it is so good to see you." He placed the girl back on her feet. "You must come to the wedding tomorrow. That is if it's okay with the bride-to-be."
"That depends," Carlotta smiled. "I insist on knowing the lovely lady's name first." She stood and extended her hand.
"How silly of me." Clem slapped his flabby hand to his head.
"Carlotta, this is Buffy. Buffy, the love my life, Carlotta." The Slayer accepted the woman's hand.
"Buffy? Not Spike's Buffy?" Carlotta asked, looking at the now embarrassed vampire.
  Buffy never liked to be thought of as a possession, but for the sake of appearances and the need to keep Spike in a friendly state of mind, she let the comment slide.  She blushed.   "Unless there's one I don't know about," she offered. Her eyes drifted to Spike and he met her gaze
"Sit down," Spike invited, his voice masking any sign of discomfort. "I'll...go get another chair." He bolted from the table before Buffy could thank him.
A few minutes later he returned to the laughing group. Introductions must have been made to the rest of the gang. He watched Buffy listen to one of Clem's stories. It sounded like the one about how he and Carlotta met, which was actually a funny story.
She had barely changed in five years, still strong and beautiful as ever. Her hair was longer, the length he liked. Honestly, she could have been bald and he wouldn't have minded in the slightest. She was wearing a sleeveless long black dress with a ruffled slit going up to her mid thigh. "And here I am in white." God, she was still perfection. There was an air of sophistication about her, something she must have cultivated during his absence.
He placed his chair in the only available spot, between Carlotta and his other friend, Sid. He positioned himself in front of Buffy, who looked up as he approached.
"And then my pants fell down!" Clem exclaimed, finishing his tale. The entire table erupted with laughter despite having heard the punch line numerous times.
"Who couldn't love a man like this?" Carlotta inquired giving him a kiss on the lips.
Buffy appreciated the gesture and locked it into her memory. Carlotta was human, a beautiful human, marrying a floppy eared demon. She was happy to see the two of them making it work. Some couples weren't that fortunate.
She looked back at the vampire who was still staring at her with utter fascination. At being caught, he merely smirked.
"So, Buffy," Sid began. "What brings you to Buenos Aires?"
"Business actually," she answered, knowing that wasn't what Spike wanted to hear. "Well, I'm looking for...something. And since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I'd drop in on Spike."
"Our good ol man. Best proprietor around, he is." Everyone vocalized their agreement.
"So, business. How'd that go?" Spike inquired as he reached across the table to retrieve his drink.
Buffy handed it to him, their fingers lightly touching. Neither of them acknowledged the electricity the contact brought the other. They were being watched like fish in a bowl by those around them, a good reason for discretion. That, and the mental promises they each made to their psyches to remain neutral for the time being.
"It's not over yet," Buffy confessed.
 Spike knocked back the rest of his drink and stood. "Well, then. I'm going to make sure everything is going smoothly. I'll send Larry over with another round."
"Going smoothly?" Sid snorted. "This joint is a well oiled machine, Spike my boy."
"A machine full of drunk patrons," he reminded him before he left the table, stealing one more glance at Buffy.

Larry came with a tray full of drinks and it occurred to Buffy she never told Spike what she wanted.
"And this for the lady, " Larry announced, putting a wine glass in front of her.
"What is it?" she asked, staring at the light liquid and the two cherries dancing with ice cubes.
"Zinfandel and ice. The cherries were the boss's touch."
Buffy smiled her thanks. "I love cherries," she said, taking the glass into her small hand.
"He said you did." With that, Larry left.
"I think we need another toast," Clem suggested. He raised his Corona. "To Buffy, it's been too long. And here's hoping you find what you are looking for." The intimate group cheered for Buffy. She blushed again and sipped her Zinfandel. It was very good with the cherries and the ice, well, Buffy liked ice.
The evening proceeded nicely. Buffy enjoyed chatting with the other demons and other humans. She was even allowed a dance with Clem and accepted one from Sid. She couldn't tell what kind of demon he was. He looked human except for his webbed fingers and gills on his neck.
"You'll have to tango with Spike sometime," Carlotta informed the Slayer. "He's quite good."
"And she would know. Carlotta's a dancer," Clem beamed.
"I've seen Spike dance...many times," Buffy stated.
"All the women here clamor for it. But, he doesn't do it enough. I only got him out there tonight because I pulled out the 'It's my wedding' card," admitted Carlotta.
"Speaking of the Demon of the Dance, where is he?" Sid wondered.
Clem surveyed the club, but the bleached blonde was nowhere in sight. "Must be in the back room."
"Back room?" Buffy's eyes widened. "Clem, you guys don't-"
"No, no we don't play anymore. At least not with kittens. His office is in the back. He's probably just doing some paperwork."
"Paperwork? Spike?"
Clem shrugged. "Well, it has to be done."
"But, that's so responsible," she frowned.
"Spike is the boss around here. He takes is seriously, just like Joaquin before him. There's no way Spike would slack off here. He couldn't do that to Joaquin."
"I guess not." Buffy made mental notes on all of this new information about the vampire. Spike and paperwork. Spike and responsible. Spike and Joaquin.
"Well, you know how loyal Spike can be." Buffy nodded in full agreement.
"Do you think he would mind if I...went back there?" Buffy wondered, trying not to come off anxious. But, she was. She really needed to see Spike alone.
"I don't think so. You did come here to see him, right?"

Buffy rose from the table and followed Clem's directions, down the stairs to the lower level, past the dance floor, through the beaded doorway, hang a left and he was behind the mahogany doors that said "Proprietor".
She was about to barge in when she realized for the first time she had no right. This was his place. She wasn't there to beat him up or to have sex or have one of their self-deprecating chats. She hesitantly raised her fist to the door.