A roll of drums broke Spike's worried and wistful contemplation. Glittering, scantily dressed she-demons paraded out into the aisles and onto the stage on the other side of the hall. A spotlight shone on the divide in the curtains, and out popped Mr. Horace-face or what's his name, wearing a süit and red bow tie.

"Now my very honored lady, are you ready for your shining hour?"

Another spotlight landed on Buffy.

"Well of course, hit me! You know I'm no party pooper."

Spike's head hurt as he watched her get up and start walking to the platforms as demons throughout the hall cheered. He rose to stop her, getting in her way, but she frowned and tried to push him aside. Soon the thick grip of the troll and five other large demons had him pinned to the poker table.

"Buffy, don't go! It's a trap. Buffy no!"

"Hush, hush, dear gentleman. Don't be jealous, your turn is coming soon..."

Spike struggled to raise his head to follow Buffy and the strange scene unfolding.

"Now my lovely jewel, won't you turn about. Show yourself off a minute..."

Spike watched with horror as his girlfriend-he-didn't-really-know-what spun with her golden locks twirling around her beaming face.

"Now," the bird-man took her gently by the shoulders, "We've got something even better for you, just step aside here, and my associates will assist you. Go on, go ahead..."

Buffy pranced behind the stage curtain. Spike gulped hard.

Several minutes later, a totally new Buffy stepped out onto the stage. Made-over to model perfection, encased in a blood red sequined backless dress, a slit going up the side all the way to her thigh.

Blinking incredulously, he felt the thugs around him tugging him up off the table.

"And now for our second guest of honor..."

((%%%))

"Get your hands of me! Buffy, time to go home! Buffy wake up! Get off!" Spike spat as the mob drug him towards the stage.

"Hmm...nice coat, vampire boy. I'd put you in a chic red velvet to match your sweetie, but I get the feeling you wouldn't be gracious enough to play along." The bird-head spoke darkly, as the audience laughed in response.

"Spike!" Buffy smiled and twirled. "C'mon, Spike, I want to see you in red!"

Spike blinked. Buffy wants to see me in red? Then he shook his head clear, trying his best to snap her out of whatever spell had a hold on her.

"Buffy, I'll wear red anytime you like, but it's time to go home now. Tell these people to let me go, and we can go back to the hotel, and if need be, skip the hotel and go straight to the airport."

"Now my lady, will you please step inside these?"

In an instant, a horrific dais was revealed with chains for the wrists and neck dangling in golden shimmers.

"I'm afraid the night will get a bit messy, and we need to make sure you're securely fastened."

"Buffy no!"

But his cries were useless. She walked with a bounce in her step straight to the dais and stood against it, as two guards approached to fasten the chains.

"Now, my dear, let me tell you, you look simply stunning. If only your partner were better behaved, we'd really have an elegant Show tonight. Anyway, it's a mere aesthetic detail. Open the book!" At that, the bird-faced demon's voice changed from faux-friendly game Show host to a deep numinous rumble.

((^%^))

"Tonight we call upon the forces of the first world, to feast on the souls of the two chosen ones, as was given to us in the unholy prophecy."

Smoke began to rise from the stage, and the lights in the hall dimmed. The room rippled with low moans and growls of anticipation.

"You, my lady, original line of the slayer, before the tree branched, you are the seed-the seed that should not be. You who have returned from the realm of unbeing by means of darkest mysteries. You are the power and the portal. Your soul we sacrifice to the forces of the first world, asking for its blessings upon our realms. And in return we shall render you one of us. You shall live forever, like us, a demon, like us."

Spike searched Buffy's face for a trace of awareness, a hint of rebellion. All he saw was a vapid stare out of glossy eyes.

"And, you, ensouled creature of the night. The champion of the hour, we require your soul as well. You too have returned to life through means of darkest mysteries. Your energies and souls are linked now by the fates you have chosen."

Spike grunted as they chained him in silver to a rack that had just risen from a trapdoor in the floor. He tried to fight, but the hordes surrounding him were far beyond his strength to repel.

Spike felt his shirt being lifted and a sharp slice of flesh. Grimacing, he met the fiery opaque bird stare of the demon as he walked over to pick up the blade now smeared with Spike's blood. The creature reached out for the blood still flowing from the fresh wound, caressed him lightly and then dug a nail into the cut before raising the dripping finger to his beak and sampling with a chipper snap of his elongated mouth.

"Oh, yes, this one's ensouled all right."