Service Unit
Chapter Sixteen – Memories
He sat, fuming in frustrated anger as he clenched and unclenched his hands. This 'Angel' person had betrayed him, he was sure of it. But how? Who was he? And why did he evoke such feelings of rage? Something dark stirred inside him as snippets of memory flashed across his mind – fights, beatings, knives, fires, running screaming people – all starring the same looming figure that must be Angel. None of the images made much sense, but he assumed them to be some of the memories of his life from before he'd become a service unit – the memories he'd so carefully locked away.
He heard his owner unlocking the door she'd locked earlier and then it sounded like she was dragging something heavy across the floor. The door shut and the dragging noise tapered off until all he could hear was a faint ticking sound. He dared to close his eyes – she'd given him permission to close them anytime – and more memories flashed across his mind. Angel whipping him, Angel cutting into his back as he lay trussed up on the floor, Angel sneering at him, and one especially confusing image of Angel kissing him on the forehead. Apparently he'd known this person quite well for him to appear in so many memories.
His head started to droop – he had a mostly full belly and was warm and fairly comfortable and was starting to doze off as more memories flooded his mind, showing people he didn't recognize – a red-headed girl, a dark-eyed boy, a wisp-thin woman with dark hair wearing a long dress, and an older man with glasses. His owner and the girl named Dawn were also there, along with an older woman that shared some of their features. Dawn must be his owner's sister, and the woman their mother. What was her name? He could almost see it, but it danced away before he could make it out, although her image in his mind brought along with it feelings of warmth and… acceptance? And the taste of… chocolate.
His owner now figured prominently in his mind and he saw her in many different settings and situations. In some she was fighting, all grace and beauty as she whirled, kicked, and punched, and in others she was dancing with some of the other people he'd seen. More memories of her were surfacing now, trying to crash into him all at once. In one she was crying and he was sitting quietly beside her as she did. He frowned at that as more memories of her with a tear-stained face appeared in rapid succession. Most of them seemed to happen somewhere dark and damp where the walls were made of stone. A place that felt like… home.
He shook his head slightly, not noticing that his chin was nearly to his chest as the memories slowed a little and his subconscious was able to examine them more closely. In one especially vivid memory, his owner was sitting on his lap kissing him senseless. He replayed that memory a few times, enjoying the flush of warmth attached to it as his cock hardened under the blanket. That surprised him more than a little, even in his half-asleep state. Yes, he was fully functional in that area, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten hard without some kind of physical stimulation from an appendage or the vibrations of his plug, and now he was hard because he was aroused by the image of his owner, not because his trainer or a renter was forcing it on him.
He flexed his hips slightly and the blanket rubbing against his erection felt good so he continued the motion as another memory suddenly slammed into him. His owner astride him, her hips churning against his as she moaned and gasped in pleasure. He could feel her slick walls clenching around his length as his hands cupped her small breasts, his fingers twisting and tugging at her erect nipples. She leaned down and took his mouth in a forceful kiss as her fingers twined with his and pushed his hands up over his head. Her hips rocked against him harder and then she tensed, her forehead pressed against his as she climaxed with a scream, her channel milking his pulsing erection in nearly strangling waves.
He jerked as his orgasm rolled through him and his poor abused balls pumped out the little bit of semen left in them. It didn't amount to much more than a damp patch the size of a bagel, and with the endorphins flooding his brain he barely even noticed the increased throbbing ache as he slipped even further into sleep.
His owner's smile – the same smile he'd carried with him all through his captivity – was the last thing he saw before he dropped off the edge into oblivion. The last thought he had was, Buffy. My owner's name is Buffy, and then blackness consumed him.
XXXX
Spike was still sitting exactly how she'd left him, except for the fact that he'd fallen asleep and his chin was resting on his chest. Buffy shook her head sadly as she walked over to the side of the bed and set down the mug of blood she'd warmed, then she reached out and gently shook Spike's shoulder. "Spike?"
He startled violently and jerked his head up, looking up at her with wide, terrified eyes. She was getting really sick of seeing that look on his face every time he did something he thought he'd be punished for, and another wave of anger at Angel crashed over her. The emotion must have showed on her face because Spike started trembling and his face blanched even paler than normal.
Buffy sighed and tried to maneuver her features into something a little less murderous. "You're not in trouble for falling asleep, Spike. You're exhausted, and until you're better, you can sleep as much as you need to. I brought you some more blood. Are you still hungry?"
He cut his eyes toward the mug without moving his head and Buffy had to clamp her lips down on another sigh. "You can look around if you want. I'm not going to punish you for moving without my permission. In fact, I'm giving you permission right now to move your head, your hands, your legs, your toes… you can move whatever you want, whenever you want, without clearing it with me first." She picked up the mug and held it out to him, waiting patiently while he screwed up the courage to lift his hand and take it from her without being ordered to. It took a few minutes, but he finally did, gulping down the blood like he was afraid it was going to be taken away.
When he'd finished, he tentatively held out the mug and Buffy took it from him with a smile. "Will that hold you until tomorrow or do you need some more?" His brow furrowed and Buffy kept her smile in place as she said, "Sorry, my bad. One question at a time. Do you need some more?" He shook his head and Buffy nodded. "Okay then. I'm gonna go put this in the kitchen and then we'll go to sleep. Go ahead and get comfortable while I'm gone."
She stepped back into the bedroom, and as soon as she laid eyes on Spike she felt like banging her head against the wall for being so stupid. He'd tried to follow what he considered to be an order, but since she hadn't been specific as to how he should get comfortable; he'd just scooted down a little and moved his hands to the bed beside his legs. The look on his face clearly told her that he was sure he'd gotten it wrong and that he was going to be punished for not doing what he'd been told. She smiled a sort of sad smile as she said, "Looks like I'm gonna have to channel my inner Anya with you, huh?"
She stepped up to the side of the bed opposite a trembling Spike and tossed the extra pillows onto the floor in the corner then walked over to the door and turned off the overhead light. That left the small lamp on the nightstand as the only illumination and she'd already decided to leave it on in case Spike woke up and needed to know where he was. Yeah, she knew that he could see as well in the dark as he could in the light, but since he'd been forced to wear that nasty hood for all that time, she hoped the light would reassure him… if he'd accepted her blanket permission to move and could force himself to open his eyes. She had a sinking feeling that he would just lay there with his eyes closed, scared and confused.
She slid under the covers next to the still trembling vampire and tugged and nudged until she'd gotten him to slide down and lay his head on her chest and his arm across her stomach. She wrapped an arm over his back and used her other hand to gently rub across the fuzz on his head as she spoke quietly to him, "I'm not going to punish you, Spike. For anything. You can make mistakes with me, you can do things I don't like, you can even tell me 'no' if you don't want to do something, but nothing you do or don't do is going to make me hurt you. I promise. I won't hurt you ever again. And even if I look angry, please understand that I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at what's been done to you, what you've been through, all the horrible things that have happened to you because of Angel – that enormous freaking dickhead with the stupid hair. Don't worry, though, he's gonna fix you whether he wants to or not… and I'm thinking he's gonna go with not, but I have a plan." She tightened her hold on him and whispered, "I love you, Spike, and we're gonna get you back."
She felt his tears soaking into her pajama top as she kept up the gentle stroking, occasionally brushing the fingertips of her other hand across the skin of his side. She smiled when the arm across her belly tightened a little just before Spike finally fell asleep again, signified by the cessation of his frightened trembling and his arm going lax. She held him for a long time after that and the pillow under her head was soaked in her own tears when exhaustion finally crept up and overtook her.
XXXX
He woke suddenly as someone shook his shoulder and a searing bolt of fear spiked through him. He'd gone to sleep without permission. He raised his head to see his owner staring down at him, her face melting into an angry expression. Now he'd done it. He'd finally pushed her too far and her patience had run out. He started trembling, unable to stop it. He didn't want her to punish him. Not because of the pain – he could take pain – but because he didn't want her to turn out to be like his trainer and renters. She was better than that.
And she proved it in the very next second. She smiled and told him he wasn't in trouble… again. And then she asked if he was still hungry. He looked at the mug she was holding, careful to only move his eyes, and his jaw almost came unhinged in shock when she said he could move without her permission and that she wouldn't punish him for doing so.
She held the mug out to him, but gave no order for him to take it, either verbally or by lifting his hand. He looked at it, his mind whirling. He'd done so many things wrong since he'd been unpacked and she hadn't punished him for any of it. She'd told him during his cleaning that he could open and close his eyes without command, and now she'd told him he could move whatever part of his body he wanted. Would she really not punish him if he moved?
That well of courage deep inside him was still filling and he tapped it once more, raising his hand to the mug. He brought it close to his face and it smelled just as delicious as the previous two. He gulped it down, savoring the taste even though he was drinking it so fast, then held the mug out to her, his heart fluttering just a bit in his chest at her smile when she took it from him.
She asked two questions and he was trying to work out how to answer both of them when she apologized and asked a single question. Yes, he would have liked more blood – he wanted to gorge himself on it – but a quiet warmth was suffusing his body now and he could feel his eyelids trying to droop again as he shook his head. He wanted more blood, but he also wanted to just sit there, drifting in the warm quiet.
He snapped to attention at her order, though, all his lethargy vanishing in an instant. He had absolutely no idea how to follow it. Get comfortable for sleep? What did that even mean? Should he lie down? Stay sitting up? Get off the bed and assume the display position? What did she expect him to do?
He didn't sleep at all when he was with a renter. The yellow goo that was pumped into his stomach did something to him that didn't allow him to sleep or pass out from whatever agony he was experiencing, so he was kept fully alert as long as his renter fed him on schedule. The only time he slept was at the slave compound – because his trainer used a different formulation of the goo that kept him conscious while he was being claimed or punished but allowed him to sleep when ordered to – but there was absolutely no 'comfort' involved. He was ordered into the display position, left hanging in chains, or left manacled to whatever structure had held him for his last punishment.
He could hear her coming back now… what should he do? Whatever it was, he needed to do it fast. He moved his hands to the bed and started to slide down, intending to lie flat. She'd placed him in that position earlier, so maybe that's what she wanted him to do, but he'd waited too long to obey and he froze as she stepped into the room.
He'd barely moved and he was sure that she'd be furious at his disobedience… but she smiled. Was there no end to her kindness? He started trembling again, but it wasn't from fear this time. It was shock. Pure and simple. He'd blatantly disobeyed an order and instead of being angry about it, she'd smiled.
She stepped up to the bed then removed most of the pillows he'd been leaning against, tossing them into the corner. She turned off the overhead light, leaving the room lit only by the small lamp on the table next to the bed. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness, then watched as she climbed into the bed next to him.
She didn't say anything as she tugged at him, moving him down and placing his head on her chest. His arm was laid over her stomach and he held himself rigid as he felt her arm wrap around his back and pull him close. Her other hand started rubbing his hair and the thub-thub of her heart was just under his ear as she started speaking quietly. He blocked out the sound of her heart and concentrated on her words.
She wasn't going to punish him for anything? He could tell her 'no?' He could make mistakes? He felt his eyes welling up when she said she was angry about what had been done to him and that she was going to make his betrayer fix him. And when she said she loved him, the dam broke and tears poured from his eyes.
He lay there, still trembling – from what, he didn't know anymore – and cried silently on his owner's chest. The thub-thub of her heart along with the gentle motions of her fingers in his hair started lulling him to sleep again. As his consciousness dimmed, his subconscious started sifting through his recently unlocked memories, filling in gaps and putting names with faces. Joyce, Dawn, Willow, Xander, Giles, Drusilla… they were all coming back to him now.
And Buffy. His Buffy. She'd rescued him from his torment, was taking care of him, was being patient with him, gentle with him… loved him.
He unconsciously squeezed with the arm laid across her stomach just before the blackness consumed him once again. Buffy loved him.