The next few chapters bounce back and forth between Buffy's point of view and Spike's.

The differing points of view have been separated by this – XXXX. I hope this isn't too confusing.

Service Unit

Chapter Eight – Awake

As he slowly came back to consciousness, the muzzy feeling in his head told him exactly what had happened. His trainer had knocked him out for transport, and that could only mean one thing, especially so early into a new lease… he'd displeased his renter to such a degree that his contract had been terminated early.

This was only the third time that had happened to him. The first time hadn't been his fault. His orifices had been incompatible with the appendages of his renter, so another slave had been brought in to fulfill the contract, but the second time… He hadn't meant to bite down, but the renter had tapped him on the top of his head and his training had kicked in before his brain could process the fact that he had something delicate pushed halfway down his throat. The punishment session he'd endured after that incident still gave him nightmares.

He started trembling in fear at the thought of what his trainer would do to punish him this time. He sincerely wished that he had obeyed that command, but he still didn't know what it was that she'd wanted him to do. Whatever it was, not doing it had displeased her enough that she'd decided to send him back instead of punishing him herself and continuing the lease. For some reason, that made him feel slightly better. He couldn't remember her name, but he could remember HER, and he'd rather be punished for weeks by his trainer than have to suffer at HER hands. He was gladdened by the thought that she wasn't the type of person who took pleasure in the sorts of things his renters had done to him over the years.

In fact, once he thought about it, she hadn't really hurt him at all. Yes, her touches had been painful, but not very, and not at all like the pain he usually experienced when a renter touched him with their hands or claws or tentacles or whatever type of appendages they possessed, and he didn't get the feeling that she'd been trying to cause him pain.

A thought suddenly struck him. Maybe the lease hadn't been terminated because he'd disobeyed… maybe she'd terminated it because she knew him and didn't want him servicing her. She'd watched the entire demonstration after all, when she couldn't see his face and didn't know who he was. He was just her new pleasure slave then, but as soon as she'd seen his face… that's when she'd instructed his trainer to take him away. He suddenly felt a pang of bitter disappointment that she'd decided to send him back, though, instead of helping him. He knew she helped people, but then again, he wasn't people, was he? And he wasn't fit to be in her company… not now… not after all that had been done to him, all the things he'd done in service to his renters. He was a thing, not a person… so there was no reason for her to want to help him.

His head was starting to hurt. He wasn't used to thinking about things this much. If he just did what he was told when he was told and focused all his energy on pleasing his renters and trainer then his existence was easier to bear. Thinking about what he'd lost and the people he'd known didn't do anything but bring into stark clarity the fact that nobody at all cared about him or what had happened to him. He'd been a slave for years, probably decades, and nobody had even bothered to look for him, much less try to free him from his slavery. Maybe that's why she was sending him back, because she knew exactly what was happening to him now and thought it a fitting punishment for things he'd done before he'd become a slave.

His stomach was starting to hurt right along with his head at the feelings of anguish and despair his thoughts were stirring up, so he tried to stop thinking altogether as he lay there with his eyes closed. A sudden chirping noise helped him do that when it startled him into complete stillness, not that he would've moved anyway. He'd been placed in this position and in this position he would remain until ordered to do otherwise, but… the noise sounded again and he drew in a shocked breath.

He could hear.

He lay perfectly still, stopping his breathing as he listened. He hadn't heard anything for so long that he wasn't quite convinced he actually had heard something until it sounded again and his brain automatically put a picture with the noise. A bird. He could hear a bird.

He immediately started taking stock, pushing all thoughts of her and his past out of his mind. He was lying flat on his back on something soft, and something soft and slightly heavy was covering him from collarbones to toes. He was still in pain, mostly located in his nether regions and abdomen, but it had lessened considerably, almost to the point of being unnoticeable. He twitched his hands ever so minutely and his fingertips brushed against fabric, and his hands weren't restrained. He nearly started panicking at that. It had been years and years since he'd been left unrestrained for more than a moment or two, not since the very early days of his training.

He took a deep breath through his nose to try to calm himself and nearly started panicking again. He could smell something. It was a sweet fragrance, and his brain supplied a picture of a purple flower and the word 'lilac.'

He inhaled deeply, taking in other scents that his brain supplied the pictures and words for. Vanilla, lavender scented fabric softener, grass, sand, the ocean, bacon… and blood. His mind whirled and he started panting, unconsciously clutching at the fabric he was lying on with his fingers.

Another sound startled him and he stilled again. There were footsteps coming closer. He had to fight the sudden urge to move his hands into the proper position. He wasn't allowed to be unrestrained and if the person coming toward him found him like this, he'd be punished. Severely. He tensed, clutching the fabric in his fists to keep himself where he was as the footsteps paused long enough for him to hear a door open. They started up again, steadily getting closer, and he forced himself to stay still. He didn't want to be punished at all, but since he still had a punishment for disobedience on his schedule for the day, it would be better to only add a punishment for being unrestrained instead of adding that and a punishment for moving without command.

It was too late to move his hands into the proper position now, anyway. He felt the presence of someone standing next to him and could smell their scent… the same lavender scent as the fabric he was lying on… and something else. Something powerful and intoxicating.

"Spike?"

He jumped. Then he waited. The person (a woman, based on the voice, his brain supplied helpfully) moved closer, and he felt what he was laying on (a bed) shift as she sat down next to him. Something thumped somewhere near his head (a mug being set down on a wooden table) and he could smell the warm, heady scent of blood. His mouth started to water and he swallowed heavily, his stomach cramping with hunger.

He swallowed again, wondering if maybe that blood was for him, if he'd get to taste it, swallow down its rich, thick nourishment, because even though he couldn't recall the last time he'd tasted any blood other than his own, his body apparently remembered it quite well and wanted it. But then reason kicked in and he forced himself to stop breathing so he wouldn't be able to smell it anymore. The only things he'd swallowed since he'd been made a slave had been his own blood and gallons upon gallons of demon spunk, neither of which did anything to nourish or heal him. Since he'd woken up at the slave compound, he'd subsisted on a thick yellow goo that made his guts cramp in pain every time it was squeezed into his feeding port. So no, that blood wasn't for him to eat. It couldn't be. It was just a new way for his trainer to punish him. Give him his sense of smell back and then taunt him with something he'd never be allowed to have.

He waited, wondering how he'd be punished further, then he jumped again when the woman he'd very nearly forgotten about laid her hand on his arm.

"Spike? I know you're awake. Please open your eyes."

He was torn. He'd been given a command… sort of… but he hadn't been trained to follow verbal commands and he didn't know if he should follow that one or not.

Another voice sounded from further away. "He doesn't respond to verbal commands, madam. You will have to use touch commands until he has acclimated to being able to hear again."

There was a tap on his eyelid and he immediately opened his eyes then blinked against the light. When his vision cleared, he looked up at the woman sitting next to him. It was her. He cut his eyes toward where the other voice had come from. His trainer.

Something wasn't right here and a deep well of fear burbled up from his stomach. Why was he unrestrained? His trainer had knocked him out and only did that in a renter's presence when he was about to be transported. Was she still his renter? This was her personal space, by the scent, and if she was still his renter, then he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be lying on her bed. It wasn't allowed. He looked at her again, then back to his trainer, then at the floor – making sure to move only his eyes and nothing else – hoping that one of them would order him off the bed, or even better, out of the room. He didn't notice that he'd started trembling hard enough to shake the bed as he kept cycling his gaze between them.

XXXX

Buffy looked over at the demon and asked, "What's wrong with him? He looks terrified."

The demon nodded. "He is. He knows he's not allowed to be where his renter sleeps. When he's not servicing a renter, he maintains whatever position the renter places him in or remains in his last position of service until the renter wants to use him again. But under no circumstances is he allowed in a renter's personal space. It's part of the contract. He shouldn't even be in this room and he knows it. And he knows he'll be punished for it. That's why he's terrified."

"But I put him here! Why would he be punished for something I did?"

"He is a slave, madam. He knows only what he's been trained to know. Rented slaves are not allowed to be in their renter's personal space, even if it was the renter that put them there. And even if the renter is the one that violates the contract, the slave is the one punished for the violation. It is the way of things, however, once the transfer of ownership from my employer to you has been completed; he will do whatever you tell him to do and go wherever you tell him to go. But until he understands that you are his owner and not a renter, he will continue to follow the rules for rented slaves."

"But I don't own him! I don't WANT to own him!"

The demon shrugged. "Then you must store him elsewhere, madam, or he will continue to live in fear of punishment for your actions. He doesn't understand that he has been released from service. And, by the way, rented slaves that have been released from service do not fare well if they are not claimed by a new owner."

Buffy stood up from the bed and stalked over to the demon. "How many rented slaves have been released from service?"

"Several. Most are given into service for their entire lives, and as long as they continue to be requested for rental, they remain in service. Occasionally, there are those that are only meant to serve for a specified length of time before they are released, but any released slave that is not claimed by a new owner usually dies because they are not able to think for themselves any longer, and if not cared for and fed, they will starve."

Buffy's shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor. "So if I want him to live, I have to own him? Tell him what to do?" She looked up at the demon. "Will he ever get back to the person he was before Angel sold him into slavery? Have ANY released slaves gotten their lives back?"

The demon nodded. "One that I know of, another vampire, but it took some time before it could act on its own without being ordered. Its training took almost as long as his did," he nodded toward Spike, "because it was nearly as stubborn and strong-willed, but it was also in service over twice as long. Its family took it back once it had paid their debt, but being that vampires aren't exactly known for their caring natures, it didn't have someone as devoted to its rehabilitation as you are to his."

Buffy smiled faintly. "So, you're saying that because Spike is unbelievably stubborn… and because I'm almost as stubborn… that he has a good chance of getting back to what he was because he wasn't a slave as long as the other guy?"

"I suppose it's possible, madam, although I don't know why you would want him to revert to his previous personality. If you knew how hard I worked to mold him into the fine pleasure slave he is…"

The demon's head bouncing off Buffy's bedroom wall stopped the noise spilling out of his mouth. Buffy leaned close as she tightened her hand around his throat. "Are you stupid or something? Have I not made it clear that I DON'T want a SLAVE? That I want my Spike back? The annoying, chain-smoking, snarking, pain in my ass that loves me? That I would give anything right now to have him slouched on my couch, clogging up my apartment with stinky cigarette smoke while he watches Passions, drinks whiskey, and yells at the TV? God! I'd buy him the damn cigarettes if he'd just…"

She stopped ranting and let go of the demon's neck, taking a step back. "Okay. I get that you're proud of the work you did to turn Spike into a slave, but here's the thing… You have to make me a satisfied customer, right?" The demon nodded. "Good. So you're staying here with us and doing absolutely everything you can to undo all that work. I don't care how long it takes, but you are not leaving here until he…" she pointed at the terrified vampire on the bed, "is a walking, talking, eating, snarking, smoking, fighting, loving, annoying pain in the ass vampire. You get me?"

The demon managed to choke out through its abused throat, "Yes, madam, I understand."

"Great. Let's get to work."