Disclaimer: Own nothing, Want nothing. Oh, who am I kidding? That's such a lie! I do want it! I want it all! Can't sue me for wanting though :)
Song lyrics are from Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps, as sung by Doris Day. Don't own it or Doris, but, it's a great lil ditty.

A/N: Hey all! Thanks for all the reviews, they make me smile so much. Please do REVIEW though, make me smile. I don't give a damn about laugh lines and all that stuff! This is a two parter simply because I thought it was rather long. The lyrics are between the *'s.
Alrighty enjoy!




Chapter 11: Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps



*You won't admit you love me
And so how am I ever to know?
You only tell me
Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps*




Spike sulked in a corner booth at Binkley's. He stared into his stout, the dark liquid that had no bottom. He wasn't drunk, regretfully, he was stone cold sober. He'd barely touched his drink, just stared into it, imagining the void within.

If only he could dive into it, surround himself in a cool darkness that tingled his senses. Drown himself in everthing......nothing....... anything but her. His persistent trouble maker, she was. His silver spoon stirring up his emotions. Lord, how she angered him, amused him to no end. She was his muse, her smile his aphrodisiac. Buffy never knew what she meant to him.

He loved her, but what was that, love? A simple four letter word that people used every day. I love you, Mum. I love my life. I love that sweater. Love is a saturated word, one used so often and so often with so little feeling behind it. Did the world even realize how they cheapened such a word?

Spike remembered something his dear mum said to him so long ago.

Never say I love you' unless you mean it, William. For saying it too much reduces love to an obligation. When you love, love with everything you have inside of you. It is such an awe inspiring feeling, why shouldn't one feel it thoroughly and completely? Be complete, my William.

William loved his mum. He loved what she said to him, the way she said it, with such abandon! He wrote down her exact statement so he could always savor it, live by it, and he did.
Spike never took anything for granted, especially his love. It was all consuming. How could he possibly convey the totality of his affection? When he saw Buffy, saw her smile, saw her fight, the fire in her eyes during their arguments, when he saw her honesty, he saw his heart, alive, fresh, full of life walking around outside of his body, staring into his ice blue eyes, an undeniable part of him, the best part. She was the best thing to grace his sight. She was his, but more importantly, he was hers. She might not know it, she might not like it, but they were bound to each other by something more than a silly word. He felt it radiating off of her. He wasn't ready to admit and she wasn't ready to voice it. He loved her, but he wouldn't say it until she knew what it meant for him to say the words. To tell his heart what she was, the love of his life.

Been waiting long?

Spike looked up from his pilsner to see O'Malley. He was hoping to see him this evening. You're right on time, mate.

I didn't mean me, Spike. Shamus O'Malley is as punctual as a leprechaun ever was. No, I was referrin' to that look in your eyes.

Spike snorted and smirked at his comrade. And what look is that, Shamus?

You look like you figured out the answer to a long plaguing question, he answered.

You might say that. So, what have you got for me? Spike finally gulped down his stout as his friend pulled up a coaster on the table.




Her violet eyes penetrated through the creature before her. Thick dark curls fell over her unnaturally pale skin. Her full rosy lips were set in a sneer, making her striking face show her deadly intentions.

Tell me, Leila purred into the fledgling ear.

The demon shuddered at the sound of her voice. Anyone intune with the supernatural would feel the power pouring out of this woman. Everything about her was an oxymoron, wrong; the good and evil intentions were so strong.

Tell me, she repeated, placing her long slender fingers around the demon's neck. What do you have to say?

It's Spike, he rasps under her grip.

She loosened her hand at the sound of his name, but her features remained hardened. What about him? She tried to contain the anxiousness in her voice.

The word's out all over town. He's been busy talking to everyone trying to find you.

Well, he won't find me. I'm not going back.

I don't think he wants to bring you in.

What makes you say that?

Spike knew who to talk to. He wanted you to know he was looking for you, said something about next time being now.' That mean anything to you?

She smiled, her eyes twinkled, she was beautiful at that moment, almost happy. Actually, I do.

Her reverie of the bleached blonde vampire was interrupted by the demon once more. So, how about that reward you promised?

She set her eyes on the repulsive demon. This thing wanted his prize for delivering this sliver of information. Did he have any idea how irritable she could be? From the expectant look on his face, she guessed not. Well, she would give him a gift. Of course, she finally replied.

She tightened her grip on the demon's throat. He tried to pry her off, but she was too strong for him. His yellow eyes rolled into the back of his head. She laughed at the sight. No simple demon could beat her, certainly never this weakling. She quickly closed her fist and crushed his neck, the sound of cracking spinal cord and the swish of splurting blood and tissue delighted her even more. Her tongue shot out of her mouth and languidly licked the spray from her face and ran it over her teeth. The vampire hidden inside of her always demanded blood.

Her joy ended abruptly when she looked down and saw the mess she made, the almost headless demon hanging limply from her fingers. She quickly released the body and stepped away from it. Shouldn't have asked for a reward, she mumbled into her red stained hands. She shook her head slowly, back and forth, back and forth. Shouldn't have asked. I gave you a reward, she insisted. Who would want to live in this world anyway? I'm sure you'd thank me if you could. She turned and walked out of the alley, leaving the corpse for scavengers.

So, William the Bloody was out looking for her. How intriguing! She figured he returned to England when he found out about her disappearance. Oh, she was delighted. She hadn't seen Spike in two years, but she thought of him everyday. Besides the most obvious body parts to dream about, she dwelled on his eyes. They held such fire in their depths. For one whose touch was ice, he set her afire.

She walked the streets, ignoring the looks and cat calls of drunken men. She had changed a great deal in two years; she'd grown up in more ways than one. She felt her pulse elevate at the thought of showing Spike her improvements. She let her mind drift to their last conversation. How quick he was to disagree with all of her accusations. Had he reached his senses? Or was it a trap? One side of her screamed to let him be, but the other, the part that desired him and his fight, raged forth. She set out to the one place he was sure to be. God, she loved how well she knew him! Their encounters were always brief, but she retained so much from them. She studied him as one would a fine piece of art, memorizing every nuance, every curvature, everything that set him apart from the masses. It was all locked away inside her Gemini mind to use in whatever mood may overcome her.


Buffy's heart was just not in this, neither was her head. She sat at a table for two absently playing with her fork while Colin droned on about some case his father had him working on.

And you really would not believe how quickly Quarium demons reproduce. It is really quite extraordinary. Buffy didn't respond. Colin peered over to her napkin and saw the connect-the -dots pattern his date made. I suppose you aren't interested in the mating rituals of Quarium demons. Perhaps the sterilization of vampires would be appropriate.

Buffy lazily looked at her companion. Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?

Colin shrugged. You are the Vampire Slayer. Aren't you interested in their makeup, what makes them them? I would imagine it would help in your stratagem.

I know enough about vampires and their rituals. As far as strategy, hasn't changed much, pointy end of the stick through the heart works for me. Buffy took a gulp of her wine. Now, why would you be interested in such a subject?

It was my thesis. I studied various species of demons, vampires included. The topic was a comparison between human and demonic relations with their own genus.

Buffy blinked her surprise. I would think the Council would frown on anything comparing humans to demons.

It did cause quite a stir until they realized I made some accurate arguments. They enjoy having someone with this extensive knowledge. That is why my father called me in to consult on Leila when I joined the Council. Unfortunately, she is a rare breed, nothing like her in all the world. Hybrids have been created, but never her combination.

So, you haven't discovered anything lately? Buffy asked, hoping he would continue his speeches and tell her something useful.

Regretfully, no. Perhaps your vampire will have better luck. I'm told his methods of persuasion are...well...persuasive.

He's not my vampire, she interjected.




*A million times I ask you
And then I ask you over again
You only answer
Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps*




So, it had to do with energy?

Of course, my good lad, Shamus smiled. The night of Leila's conception, the Malanto Destino, if you will, the mystical and demonic energies were thriving off of each other, countering each other. The night crackled and sparked from the pressure. And then there was a Slayer's daughter and a vampire.

Now, here you loose me. How old was this Slayer? Or rather how young was the daughter?

O'Malley crossed his legs and propped them up on Spike's ash tray. The Slayer was thirty five and her daughter was sixteen. He noted Spike's disbelief. I know what you are thinking, how could a Slayer live so long and not be legendary? Spike nodded. She was erased from the diaries once it became clear she would not be returning to this dimension.

The Slayer, one Nellie Fairbanks, was sent to another dimension to assist in an uprising, but she refused to leave her daughter behind. But, time became an issue, works differently over there, you see, and we couldn't go on much longer without a Slayer. So, there was a cover up and they relinquished all ties to Nellie.

That's our Council, Spike snorted. They just abandoned that poor young woman and her child in a foreign land.

But, she chose to stay, make a life for herself and the little one. But
the uprising progressed into a full war. Shamus shook his head. The energies that night exploded during conception burning most of the camps.

That sounds like fun. Wish I knew about it. Dru and I could have had a bloody good time.

Your intentions have been concentrated on less post mordum fields as of late, Shamus reminded the vampire. He may still try to be the creature he was years ago, but O'Malley knew Spike would never want to go back, not anymore. She is something, my friend. I could feel her from outside the store.

Try feeling her on another continent. Actually, don't, I wouldn't wish that one you.

O'Malley began, leaning closer to Spike, is it love for the vampire then? Has she bewitched you again?



*If you can't make your mind up
We'll never get started*








Spike is his own man, a rather secretive one at that. I'm sure I'd be the last to know his true feelings.

The lover always is, Colin commented before taking a sip of his white wine.

Buffy just let her mind wonder, trying to block out Colin's observations. But, nothing worked; her mind was stuck in a Spike warp, where every thought linked itself to him.

White wine. Spike drank red, always red. Red like blood, never white. White like the color he always wore, something is always white. Why did he change his clothes? Spike liked his dark shirts, red, blue, maroon, brown button down. Not a one in sight, save the occasional shade of blue. Blue like his eyes. He had his duster back, but never wore it. He loved that worn black leather prize, but it was stuffed in a closet, out of sight, out of mind. Off his body, as if it was locked away in a prison. His jacket was bad, black bad. White good, color of atonement.

That's it! Buffy exclaimed.

Colin stared at the Slayer, who had been quiet for some time. She had drifted off, but now her emerald eyes were alert and focused. Pardon me?

she said, slightly embarrassed at her very vocal outburst. But, she couldn't help it. I cracked the code, she thought. The Wardrobe Code. He doesn't wear the duster because it represents his evil days, and compensates with excessive use of white. How cute! No- no not cute. It's a bit extreme really, but if that is what he needs... He can't hide behind clothes though.

She made a deal with herself. Spike needed to tell her how he felt before she entertained notions of confessing her feelings. That way, she ensured any doubts of rejection. She couldn't be rejected by him, never him, always someone else, never him. He needed to chose.



But, I don't want to talk about that, Spike told his friend as he knocked back his second Guinness and motioned to Binkley for another.

It's not my area of expertise. O'malley reached for his thimble full of Spike's chosen liquid.

Neither is it mine. So, keep talking about Leila. The Slayer's daughter and the vampire had a baby.

In that dimension, yes. The Slayer was furious when she found out, even more so when she realized it was a trap. It wasn't star crossed lovers; just destiny, sick destiny, malanto destino. Nellie killed the baby's father so subsequently, the daughter was turned and killed before she could rise. Leila was left with a friend until the Council swooped in. They didn't know what they were getting themselves into.

I'll drink to that. Spike raised his glass. Cheers, mate.

O'Malley raised his thimble. Well, my tale has been told. I must be off, passed my bedtime.

Thanks, O'Malley. But, you'll come round tomorrow though.

O'Malley, nodded his agreement. Wouldn't miss it. I'm looking forward to seeing that girl of yours. I think she put the color back in your cheeks. He stood and hopped onto the floor with ease. Oh, and I'm glad you found your answer to your question.

Spike watched his friend scurry out of the pub. He then turned his confused blue eyes to his liquor. I don't have any answers.



*And I don't want to wind up
Being parted, broken hearted*



Should I stay? Should I go? Should I stay? Should I go? Buffy rattled off her two choices repeatedly as Colin continued to bore her with tales of his research in...... Australia was it? Learning about the Fugarth demons courtship traditions.

And then, if she accepts the offering of Koala claws and serpent feces-

I have to go, Buffy announced. She stood up and tossed her napkin to the table. Sorry for this, Colin, but duty calls.

Tonight is your night off, he reminded her.

Slayers shouldn't get nights off.

She walked out of the restaurant and into the street. She didn't really know where she was, but remembered the flat was down a few blocks to the right. Buffy turned left, allowing her feet and instincts to guide her. Somehow she knew she find him or he would find her. It was on this optimistic note she found herself at O'Malley's store.

she called out, knocking on the door. He would know where to find Spike.



*So if you really love me, say yes
But if you don't, dear, confess
And please don't tell me
Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps*






On a personal note: Part of the speech Will's mum gave, my mom actually gave to me as a child. One of those things that stick with you.