The House of the Rising Sun Chapter 1: It's not the heat, it's the humidity, a buffy: the vampire slayer fanfic

Author: E'Lise

Title: The House of the Rising Sun

Rating: R – for now at least.

Disclaimer: The characters, lyrics, and settings in this story are not in any way part of my personal property. The story they are contained in is my intellectual property unless someone out there wants to cut me a big fatty check for it, which I guess will never happen, so basically I still own my mind, but those men in the white coats say I don't and that it now is property of the state. Anyway… "Buffy" ain't mine, don't sue.

Spoilers: Well, everything up through season 6 is fair game kiddies.

Feedback: Feed me Seymour! I really like this story, but if I don't get enough reviews, you know what will happen. We addicts need our high.

A/N: The song lyrics are in italics. "Hey Baby" is the property of No Doubt. Oh, and if anyone out there wants to Beta read my stuff, let me know.

The House of the Rising Sun

The night was sweltering hot as the people thronged around the man in the long leather coat. The occasional cool blasts of air conditioning from the open doorways felt good, even to his cold, long-dead skin. The drunk, giddy people that surrounded him were dripping with perspiration.

"It's not the heat, it's the humidity," he thought to himself ruefully.

It had been five years since Spike had left Sunnydale; five years, four months, eight days, eleven hours, and seven minutes. After the Slayer had said that having sex with him was killing her, he had decided to leave. He had traveled all over the world, but had finally decided to settle in New Orleans for a while. The chip had stopped working sometime after he had left Europe to come back to the States, but Spike found that he didn't lust for the kill any longer. Occasionally he would feed off a human, either a willing participant or a murderer or rapist, sometimes he'd even kill the latter two, feeling that he was actually doing the authorities a favor.

Spike was strolling in the French Quarter the first night he arrived in New Orleans, when he happened to come across Bourbon Street. He had found most of the rest of the city pretty quiet, but this one street probably contained more people than in all of the 'Dale. Spike smirked at all the people in their collective drunken stupor. Even he was shocked a little when he saw women all over flashing their breasts at the crowd.

"All they get for showing their tits is a pair of plastic beads?" Spike was flabbergasted.

But, he came to realize that this was just a part of everyday life in this Southern city. Bourbon became one of his favorite places to go after that first night. Along with the showy tourist traps, there were a few dark, comfortable bars to drown his sorrows at while he reminisced about Buffy, and the love he still felt in his heart for her.

Tonight, the heat must have been getting to Spike's head, because some of the flashier clubs were calling to him. He usually avoided these places like the plague; they were all bright lights and loud noise. But tonight, he had already had a few too many, and was ready to let loose. A bright red sign beckoned Spike.

"Rick's Cabaret, that sounds interesting," Spike thought.

A burly doorman sized him up and then opened the inner doors so Spike could enter the club. Bump 'n' grind music blasted from the speakers in the rather swanky strip club. Spike walked down to the front of the club and took a seat in front of the stage. The redhead girl on stage was shakin' her proverbial "groove thang" very near Spike's platinum locks. A cocktail waitress came over to take his order and returned quickly with a bottle of whisky and a glass. The redhead left the stage to applause and whistles. A new song began playing and Spike recognized it as a hit from when he was still in Sunnydale, it had been a favorite with the Slayer and the 'Bit.

Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, boys say,
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby baby

The girl that sauntered out on stage was lean and leggy. Her natural hair color was heavily highlighted with golden blonde streaks, to the point where he couldn't decipher her true hair color. She was dressed in a white, red cherry printed, g-string, garter belt, and bra. Her stockings were red fishnet and her strappy, red, five-inch platform spike heels accentuated her calf muscles nicely.

I'm the kind of girl that hangs with the guys
Like a fly on the wall with my secret eyes
Takin' it in, try to be feminine
With my make-up bag watching all the sin
Misfit, I sit
Lit up, wicked
Everybody else surrounded by the girls
With the tank tops and the flirty words

Spike stared in amazement at this goddess before him. Her heavy makeup and sex kitten hair hid her true features, but Spike felt a flash of recognition when he looked at her.

I'm just sipping on chamomile
Watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school

The girl danced hard and fast and then took to the pole at center stage.

All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say,
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back

She wrapped her long legs around the shiny brass and slid up and down on it. She gyrated against the pole and Spike had never in his unlife had wished so hard that he was an inanimate object.

I'm the one they feed upon
Give a bit a star is born
And if you're hot enough you'll get the pass
So you can tell your friends how you made it back
No matter what they say I'm still the same
Somehow everybody knows my name
And all the girls wanna get with the boys
And the boys really like it

Spike felt drawn to the sultry stripper as he watched her cavort on stage. She reminded him of someone. Someone from long, long ago.

Check it out, it's Bounty Killer, and No Doubt

Jump on the stage watch me going crazy
After wit' myself and one of them gorgeous lady
There is no need to be acting shady
C'mon baby, hey hey baby

When you rock your hips you know that it amaze me
Got me off the hook and nothing else don't phase me
Can you be my one and only sunshine lady
Now, if now maybe

Her strong legs held her upside down on the pole as she stripped off her bra to reveal two sequined cherry pasties.

I'm just sippin on chamomile
Watching boys and girls and their sex appeal
With a stranger in my face who says he knows my mom
And went to my high school

All the boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say,
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Hey baby baby
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Can you be my one and only sunshine lady

Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Girls say, girls say,
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
When you rock your hips
You know that it amaze me

Hey baby, hey baby, hey
Boys say, boys say
Hey baby, hey baby, hey
All the boys get the girls in the back

She spun right side up on the pole, gave a final shake and shimmy to the crowd, smacked her ass and glided off stage.

"A big round of applause ladies and gentleman for our very own Summer Williams!" the announcer cried.

"Must be a stage name," Spike thought, as he shrugged. He turned to the guy sitting next to him.

"Does she perform every night?" Spike asked.

"Oh yeah," the man replied. "Summer is always here."

"Thanks mate." With that Spike got up and left, the full bottle of whisky still sitting unopened at the stage. On his way out he nodded to the bouncer, who came over to speak with him.

"Does Summer Williams have a real name?" Spike questioned the bouncer.

"If she does sir, no one here knows it. But, sometimes she dresses in leather and bills herself as the Slayer."

Spike looked at the bouncer as if the man had grown two heads.

"Slayer?" Spike whispered.

"Yes sir," the bouncer replied looking at him strangely.

"Thanks… thanks a lot." Spike ground out as he fled into the night.