A/N: Thanks everyone for all the great reviews so far! Feedback is the perfect drug! Sorry I didn't get the second chapter up sooner, but Fan Fiction went wonky on me Sunday night, and then my disc got all screwed up. Yeah, I know, excuses, excuses. I will try to have up a third chapter by this weekend though, barring any unforeseen disasters. For those of you who have said you don't like songfics, I promise there are only a couple more songs in this story. Keep reading and reviewing everyone: tell me if I am doing something wrong, or if you like where I am taking the story. I promise my fragile psyche can even handle flames. The song and lyrics belong to Custom. I strongly suggest you go to their site www.teamcustom.com and check out the song "Hey Mister". DON'T SUE!

Chapter Two: Slayer-itis

Spike paced around the crypt he now called his home. He couldn't believe that Buffy was working as a stripper. What had happened to the beautiful, strong, warrior woman he had loved?

"What happened to her, what could have happened once I left?" Spike was beating himself up inside for ever leaving Buffy, just like so many others had.

"That's what she expected, you git! She always thought everyone would leave her, why'd you have to go and do it too?" Spike began beating his head against the polished red granite wall.

Spike had chosen this mausoleum because it housed the body of a very rich, very famous madam. There had been an uproar from the town's citizens because they did not want her buried in the most prestigious cemetery in New Orleans. Spike found it highly amusing that the high class whore got her way in the end, and had made her tomb red to boot. Spike felt that rebelliousness every time he stepped inside the crypt.

"I used to be a rebel too, until I got Slayer-itis," Spike grumped.

He kicked an empty bottle of Jack across the floor, and it smashed into the wall. Every thought led Spike back to Buffy. Her scent, her eyes, all the cute little noises she'd make when he was buried deep inside her. The way he could feel her when she was nearby. That thought sobered him right up. The girl on stage... he was drawn to her, but she didn't feel like Buffy.

"Of course," Spike reasoned, "I haven't seen the Slayer in over five years, so I may have lost that sixth sense that lets me know when she's around."

"I have to go back tonight. I have to see her." Spike shook his head.

"No, I don't have the chip anymore. Buffy will stake me when she finds out."

"Who says she has to find out?" Spike's Big Bad side interjected. "Just don't hurt anyone in front of her, and she will never know."

"But it's Buffy, I can't lie to her, I have to tell her." Nancy-boy William was emerging.

"No you don't, you stupid git. You don't even know if it's her yet."

"Well, that's true, but if it's Buffy, she'll just know."

"It may not be Buffy, and whoever she is, she's sexy. Just go back tonight and try to talk to her. Get a lap dance or something." The Big Bad advised.

"That's a good idea." Sweet William was coming around.

"Thanks, now shut the hell up. This inner monologue shit gives me a headache."

Spike laid down on the bed to try to get some sleep, but the girl invaded all of his dreams. She morphed into Buffy riding him, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Buffy looked down at him with dead eyes.

"You're killing me, you are beneath me."

She shriveled up into a rotting corpse, then to a skeleton, and finally settled into dust all over his naked body. The dust swirled around and re-formed into the dancer. She shimmied around him, and placed her red spike heel directly over his heart. He couldn't focus on her; the red cherries swam in and out of his vision. The heel began to slowly puncture his chest.

"You promised, Spike," the girl said sadly.

"The heel pierced his heart, and Spike exploded into dust.

Spike woke with a start. His mind was playing tricks on him. For a second the girl looked like... he shook his head. Spike didn't think he could go back to the strip club tonight. But, his feet dragged him there anyway.

The club that had looked so friendly, so inviting the other night, now looked dark and foreboding, even to Spike. He squared his shoulders and entered the heavy wooden doors. The same doorman guarded the inside entrance, and Spike went over to speak with him.

"Is Summer here tonight?" Spike asked as he shook hands with the beefy bouncer.

"Yeah, but she's going as the Slayer tonight." the man replied.

"Thanks mate. Hey, by the way, what's your name?"

"It's Lenny, but the people here call me Bear." The doorman attempted to look tough with a big grin on his face.

"Well, I'm Spike, but it's really William."

"Nice to see you again Mr. Spike."

"It's been a pleasure Bear." With that, Spike began to enter the club. Halfway through the door, he stopped and turned to Bear.

"Does Summer do private dances?" He asked of Bear.

"Yes sir, just get the cocktail waitress to get you a manager."

Spike nodded at the man, and entered the club fully. He took the same spot he had the previous night. A beautiful Asian girl was onstage, moving to the music so fluidly that Spike fleetingly wondered if she had any bones in her body. But, Spike was impatient for Summer to come on. Unfortunately, he had to sit through three more acts, because when the "Slayer" was on, she was always the finale. The announcer came over the speakers.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present... THE SLAYER!"

The crowd got to their feet to applaud as a song began.

Hey Mister I really like your daughter
I'd like to eat her like ice cream
Maybe dip her in chocolate

The girl waltzed out on stage in shiny, black leather spike boots that hit above the knee. A black leather thong and corset adorned her upper body. In her hand she carried a long leather whip. On her face, she wore a black leather mask that covered her eyes and nose. She cracked the whip at the crowd as she danced.

Hey Mister on your way over
In your Volvo, suit, and tie
We'll be crawling in your bed soon
Messing around, maybe getting high

It's not what ya did
It's not what ya didn't
God gave her the perfect body
Now I'm all up in it

It's not she's a tramp
It's not she's not pure
She just likes getting her fuck on
And its a good one of that I'm sure

The girl spun around on stage wrapping the whip around her. The sound crackled in Spike's ears.

Hey Mister I really like your daughter
When I'm horny like thirsty
She's a bottle of water

Hey Mister how'd it get so bad
You raised her so well
And now she's calling me dad
In the back seat naked of a new Volkswagen
The perfect little gift for high school graduation

It's not what ya did
It's not what ya didn't
God gave her a perfect body
Now I'm all up in it

It's not she's a tramp
It's not she's not pure
She just likes getting her fuck on
And its a good one of that I'm sure

Nana na nana na
Nana na nana na
Nana na nana na
hahaha hahaha hahaha ha

She swung the whip at a beam in the ceiling and yanked on it to make sure it was tight. She wrapped her body in it as it hung from the beam, moving up and down on it like a Cirque de Soleil performer.

I eat all the food in your fridge
Call my friends around the world
Rack up your long distance do
Breakstands neutral drops
Wreck all your cars
Drink all the booze in your cheezy ass wet bar
Order stuff on your credit cards
Leave boogers in the skippy jar
Smoke your cigars
Answer the phone tell your boss you moved to mars
When you call in late from work tell your wife
You're at the titty bars

The crowd was awed. They sat perfectly silent, with their jaws hanging to the ground. If Spike had doubted that the girl was Buffy before, he had no doubts left. Only a true Slayer could have physical prowess like that.

It's not what ya did
It's not what ya didn't
God gave her a perfect body
Now I'm all up in it

It's not she's a tramp
It's not she's not pure
She just likes getting her fuck on
And its a good one of that I'm sure

I can't lie I have to tell the truth
My commandments says I'm a total spoof
Your daughter's a freak
Your daughter's a pro
When i'm done with her
She'll do one of your bros

During the girl's dance, a cocktail waitress approached Spike.

"Can I get you anything, sir?" She whispered in his ear so she wouldn't break his concentration from Summer.

"Could you bring me a manager luv? I'd like to schedule a private dance." Spike murmured, never once allowing his eyes to leave the stage.

The cocktail waitress hurried off to hunt down a manager.

I hope I never have a daughter
I hope I never have a daughter
I hope I never have a daughter
I hope I never have a daughter

Summer finished her striptease by doing a few tricks on the pole. Her corset top had been discarded and her full breasts were pointed right at Spike when she arched her back off the pole.

Nana na nana na
Nana na nana na
Nana na nana na
Nana na nana na!

Summer picked up her top and blew a kiss to the crowd. She floated off stage and disappeared behind a curtain. A manager approached Spike.

"Yes sir, the waitress said you'd like to see me?" The man smiled broadly.

"Would it be possible to have a private dance with Summer tonight?" Spike asked.

"Of course sir. How long of a dance would you like? They come in half hour increments..."

"The rest of the night." Spike interrupted, pressing a roll of cash into the man's hand. It easily contained over five thousand dollars. The manager's eyes bulged for a moment, but he recovered gracefully.

"Yes sir, that will not be a problem. Why don't you head to the bar for a few moments while Summer prepares. Anything you would like is on me Mr.? ..."

"Spike."

"Mr. Spike, I will come and get you as soon as everything is ready. Please give this card to the bartender, and he'll get you anything you like." The manager handed Spike his card and shook his hand.

Spike headed to the bar and ordered a whisky, neat. He drank it down and ordered another. His thoughts were all about Buffy. He was having doubts again. If this girl was Buffy, what would he say? What would she say? Would she hate that he found her? Would she love him? Would she dust him? Before he knew it, he had seventeen glasses in front of him, and the manager had come to bring him to the Champagne Room.

Spike entered the dimly lit room and sat down on a deep red velvet couch with white satin pillows. He looked around a little woozily as low instrumental music began to play. He decide just to rest his eyes for one second.

Summer stood outside the door to the room and took a few deep breaths before she entered. She always had to psych herself up for this part of the job. She enjoyed dancing on stage, but the private shows bothered her. There was no touching on the part of the customer, but she still had to rub her half naked body all over them. She took one last breath and entered the room. The guy wasn't looking at her. His head was on his chest. Was he sleeping? Summer went over and tilted his head.

"Sir," Summer prodded gently as she tipped his head to where she could see his face. Just then, Spike's eyes snapped open. Summer stared at him for a beat. Then...

"Oh my GOD! SPIKE ?!?!" the girl screamed.

Spike looked closely at the young woman before him. His mouth gaped open. The last thing that came out of his mouth before he slumped to the floor in a dead faint was...

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL!"