I am insanely sorry for how long it's been since I've updated this story. My only excuse is that life has been doing to me what Liam did to Spike… sans lube. So yeah… anyway, here's a new chapter. Yay! I have two more completed after this one, then I'm kinda stuck, but I am working on this and hope to have it completed by the end of this year. No promises or anything, because, you know… life, but I'll try.

Service Unit

Chapter Thirty Three – Numbered

Spike tumbled through the darkness, bouncing and rolling along the floor toward a bright, searing wall of light. He slammed up against it, the force of the impact jarring his entire body and making his injuries scream. He lay there for a few seconds, trying to convince himself that all of this was in his head. That it was just his mind playing tricks and that none of it was real. There were no injuries, there was no light, there was no wall… there was no sodding spoon. He chuckled bitterly then shakily pulled himself up and stood, one hand braced against the wall as he tried to get his bearings.

All of it sure felt real enough. It had felt real when Uposs was kicking him. The stomps had felt real, too. And the words. Those had felt completely real, and they'd hurt the most, cutting him right to the bone even though he'd tried not to let them in. He didn't want to believe the vile tripe Uposs was spouting, but… No. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. Could it?

The wall suddenly disappeared and he was tumbling again.

XXXX

There was a low crunching of bone when the demon's brow ridges started to smooth out and Dawn slipped her hand under his neck to touch the stone to the base of his skull. "Buffy! I think it's working! Look!"

Buffy sat up and they both watched as the demon's visage melted into Spike's handsome features. Buffy reached out and ran her fingertips lightly down Spike's cheek as his eyelids fluttered. "I just hope we didn't drive the demon away again. Spike needs him." She clenched her hand into a fist and said in an angry whisper, "Spike and his demon both better be fine or Angelus is going to have a very bad fucking day."

Spike opened his eyes, squinting against the light until he could get them to focus. When they did, he froze. Buffy was staring down at him and he could read the anger on her face and hear it in her voice when she asked, "Spike? Are you back?"

His stomach knotted and then sank like a stone. It's all true. Everything he said. It's all true. She hates me.

Buffy leaned closer, peering at his face. "Say something."

Spike immediately dropped his eyes away from hers, focusing instead on the wall across the room, and murmured, "Yes, Mistress, I'm back, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. Which position would you like me to assume so that you may punish me for my tardiness?"

Buffy looked over at Dawn, her anger growing by leaps and bounds. "And he's not fine. He's apparently back to square fucking one. Looks like there's a bad fucking day coming right up. I'm going to kill him. Hurt him and then kill him."

Dawn had noticed Spike flinch and try to cringe away from Buffy's angry words and she said quietly, "You're scaring Spike."

Buffy looked back down at Spike. He was trembling. She started to reach for his chin, intending to lift his face a little so she could look him in the eyes, but when her hand moved into his line of sight, he flinched again then whispered, "Please, Mistress. I'm sorry for what I did to Dawn. He said you both hate me now – I didn't want to believe it – but he was right. I'm sorry. Just please… let me service you. I'll do my best, I promise, I'll do whatever you want for as long as you want… before you… before you kill me." He let out a small whimper then cringed. "I'm sorry. Please. I'm sorry."

Buffy drew her hand back and whispered, "Oh God. Spike… I don't… I'm not…" She suddenly slid off the bed and stood up, motioning to Dawn to join her. "Spike, just… um… just stay where you are and I'll be right back."

Spike murmured, "Yes, Mistress. I'm sorry," as Buffy and Dawn walked out of the room.

Buffy closed the door then leaned against it, thumping her head against the wood. "Oh God. I don't even know what to do."

Dawn took Buffy's hand and started leading her down the hall. "Was this what he was like when he got here?"

Buffy nodded. "He couldn't talk then, but the attitude was pretty much the same, and if he could've spoken, that's probably what he would've sounded like. He was so scared, Dawnie. Every time he did something he thought was wrong or didn't understand something, he was afraid I was going to punish him. God, he'd come so far… he was doing so good… Fucking Angelus. And now he thinks we hate him and we're going to kill him. What the hell are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out." Dawn stopped at the end of the hall and indicated the living room with a nod of her head. "I can't go in there, remember? The perv?"

Buffy's eyes flashed. "Right. Hang on." She stomped into the living room and Dawn heard a loud crack-thump and then Buffy called out, "Okay. All clear."

Dawn walked into the living room and looked over at Angelus. His head was lolling limply forward and Buffy was leaning a bat against the wall by the chair. Dawn held up the stone. "You could've used this, you know."

Buffy looked over at her and shrugged. "Yeah, but the bat is more bad-dayish than the stone, and it's not like he doesn't deserve it. He's lucky I only hit him once." She turned and headed for the kitchen. "I need coffee."

Dawn muttered, "I need a drink."

Buffy spoke over her shoulder, "I heard that, and when all this is over with, I'm gonna beat the ass of whoever's been giving alcohol to my underage sister."

"Underage? I'm like a bazillion years old!"

"Not in that body. It's underage and it's not allowed to drink."

"Says who?"

"Says me, the older sister."

"Technically, I'm the older sister. And I'm taller."

The familiar argument made Buffy feel just a little better as they entered the kitchen. It was a small piece of normality – well, what passed for normal in her world – in an otherwise mostly craptastic day.

XXXX

Spike lay there, staring at the wall. The pain from his real injuries had made itself known just as Buffy had shut the bedroom door. There was quite a lot, mostly around his abdomen and genitals, but he hadn't dared to raise his head to look at the damage Liam had caused. Buffy had told him to stay where he was.

So he just breathed slowly. In and out. Trying to push the pain down, make it not as important. He was going to be a good slave for her. It was the only thing he could think to do to try to make up for what he'd done to her sister. He knew what he'd done was unforgivable, but maybe if he proved useful... He sighed. His days were numbered and it was probably a very small number. Buffy was nothing if not ruthless where her friends and family were concerned. Hurting one of them was tantamount to suicide, and she'd never forgive him for it, no matter what he did.

At least it should be over soon. They'll decide how best to kill me and it'll all be over. No more fighting. No more hurting. No more anything. Just the end.

XXXX

Buffy lowered her coffee cup and cradled it in her hands. "So what do I do?" She set the cup on the counter then pushed it back. "God, I'm so tired."

Dawn took a sip of her coffee. "What did you do the first time?"

Buffy shrugged. "Took care of him. Cleaned him up, fed him, tucked him in, held him while he cried, tried to convince him that I wasn't going to punish him every time he moved."

"So do that again."

Buffy leaned her head back against the cupboard. "He's worse this time, Dawnie. A lot worse. Did you hear the fear in his voice? When he first got here, he expected punishment all the time, but now he's probably lying there waiting for us to come kill him because he thinks we hate him."

Dawn shrugged. "So we tell him we don't. Show him we don't."

Buffy raised her head. "You think it'll be that simple? Have you met Spike? Even when he wasn't… whatever he is now, nothing involving him has ever been simple. You think a few kind words and a hug is going to fix him? After all the shit he's been through?"

Dawn shrugged again and set down her coffee cup. "Won't know until we try, but the Spike I remember only really passionately cared about one thing. Loving and being loved… and well, fighting… so maybe two things, but I think the thing that will 'fix' him is showing him that we love him. If we can get him to believe that, then I think he'll be okay. He'll be… Spike. It's probably gonna be hard, and who knows how long it'll take, but…" She pushed away from the counter. "Why don't we start by lying down with him and getting some sleep? I'm tired. You're tired. And Spike always did like to cuddle, so maybe that will kickstart the fixing. Besides, we'll be able to come at the problem with more energy and brainpower after we've gotten some rest. Angelus isn't going anywhere, so we've got time." She started out of the kitchen.

Buffy followed. "What about the possibly impending apocalypse?"

Dawn waved a hand. "We won't notice if it happens while we're asleep, so let's just add it to the 'deal with it when we wake up' list… you know, if we wake up."

Buffy glanced at Angelus as they passed through the living room. He was still knocked out and had drool dripping off his chin. She muttered, "Asshole," and stepped into the hallway.

As she'd figured, Spike hadn't moved a muscle while they'd been gone. He was still lying flat on his back, his eyes fixed to a point on the wall behind her. She stepped around the bed and sat down gingerly, Dawn mimicking her movements on the other side. She noticed Spike tense slightly in anticipation and she reached for his hand. "I'm not going to punish you or kill you, Spike, and neither is Dawn. We don't hate you."

Dawn moved Spike's arm away from his body then stretched out beside him and laid her head on his shoulder. "We don't. We both love you and we'll do whatever we can to help you, okay?"

Buffy mimicked Dawn this time and they both snuggled as close as they could get while being careful not to put pressure on his injuries. Buffy reached up and gently caressed his face, drawing her fingertips over his forehead, cheeks, and chin. "I don't know who the 'he' is, but what he told you while you were… away… it's all lies. All of it. We don't hate you, we're not going to punish you or kill you, and you don't have to service me. I only said those things to make it let you go. You're not a slave anymore."

A single tear fell from Spike's eye and Buffy wiped it away with a fingertip. "I love you, Spike." She lifted up and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. "I love you so much. Please come back to me."

XXXX

Spike lay there, his arms outstretched perpendicular to his body, with the two people he loved most on the planet using him for a pillow. They'd both fallen asleep some time ago, and Dawn was currently drooling on his chest while Buffy snored quietly into his neck.

When they'd come back into the bedroom without stakes or any other kind of weapon in their hands, he'd been surprised, to say the least. But Buffy really didn't need a weapon to do major damage – she could tear his head off or punch straight through his chest with barely any expended effort – and he'd involuntarily tensed when she'd sat down next to him.

And then she'd spoken, and the words she'd said had been the complete opposite of everything Uposs had spent hours trying to kick and stomp into him. His mind had shifted into overdrive, weighing one against the other over and over until his thoughts had become as tangled and knotted as last year's strings of Christmas lights.

He closed his eyes and wiped all thought from his mind, floating in a white nothing for a while. Then he started trying to sort through it all again, but this time he gave more weight to the actions of the women currently sprawled across him and less to their words. Would they be cuddling him like a life-size teddy bear if they hated him? No… No, they wouldn't.

Spike lifted his head and looked down his body. His stomach was covered in small squares of gauze and he could feel the chill of ice packs under the light towel draped over his groin. Would he be in Buffy's bed if she hated him? No. Would she take the time to dress his wounds and ice his swollen bits if she was planning to kill him? No. Uposs had lied.

He looked around the darkened room, spying the pad of blankets on the floor under the window. He sniffed. They were covered in his blood. That must be where she'd treated him. He saw an odd looking machine sitting next to the blankets and an open duffel bag that had various medical supplies poking up out of it. They didn't smell like Buffy's flat, so she must have gotten Niblet to bring in the supplies she'd needed.

He turned his head and looked at the brunette girl. Her face was smooshed into his chest with her hand curled under her chin. She'd slept like this many times when Buffy had been dead. It had bothered Willow, but Tara had understood and had encouraged it because Dawn hadn't had nightmares when she'd slept curled up on the couch with him. He brought his arm down and wrapped it around her. She shifted, burrowing closer to him, and he smiled then pressed a kiss to her head. His Niblet didn't hate him. Uposs had lied about that, too. Dawn wasn't here to help Buffy kill her slave; she was here to help take care of her sister's… whatever he was.

He stopped to think about that for a moment. What was he to Buffy? Not her slave – she'd stated as much. Was he her boyfriend? Lover? Partner? Was there even a word that could define their relationship? He shook his head slightly. One word? No. But two words – it's complicated – were probably as close to a definition as they were ever likely to get. And they would work.

He turned his head but couldn't see Buffy's face because of how she was positioned. He started to move his arm to wrap around her then had to stop when something tugged at the inside of his elbow. He looked at his forearm and smiled slightly. There was an IV taped to his arm, the tubing leading to a bag of blood that was duct-taped to the top of the headboard. He continued the movement of his arm, being careful of the tubing, and snuggled Buffy tightly against his side. He felt her smile against his neck and his own smile widened.

He had both his girls, and as long as he did, things would work out. Uposs could go pound sand, the lying prick. Spike had survived The First's torture because he'd held onto the thought that Buffy believed in him, and now? Well, now he had two of the strongest women he'd ever known in his corner, so if Uposs dragged Spike back down there with him, Spike would do some pounding of his own. He was done being a slave. Done being raped. Done being tortured. And the next creature to try anything of the sort was going to have a rude and very painful awakening. Even without his demon, Spike would fight tooth and nail against anyone who tried to use him or abuse him.

The strip of silk around his neck suddenly felt heavy… constricting… and he reached toward it with the arm wrapped around Buffy. She shifted as he moved, mumbling something in a sleepy voice. Spike froze until she'd settled back against him then he carefully replaced his arm. Removing the collar would have to wait. Buffy had been through quite an ordeal in the past few days and she needed the rest.

He closed his eyes, surrounded by the warmth and scent of his girls, then gave them a squeeze and let himself drift off. Things would work out.

XXXX

Uposs was meandering slowly along, humming to himself while he waited for his kickball to return, so he didn't notice the dark figure slinking up behind him, stealthy and silent.

The demon smiled as he got into position. He'd been waiting for this for years. Waiting for something to set him free. And now it was time. Time to get rid of the usurper once and for all. Time to free his host, join forces with him and the soul, and then lay waste to the cause of all their troubles.

She'd promised he'd get his chance, even said that she'd help, but they wouldn't need her help. He'd learned a lot at his Sire's knee, and he was itching to put those skills into practice… on his Sire.

He sprang into motion, a mighty roar issuing from his throat as he tore into Uposs with his claws. He was a blur, darting in, slashing, and darting out. The next strike was a vicious bite that tore a large chunk of meat from the back of his screaming victim. The screams didn't last long, though, because the demon's claws slashed out again, right across the screaming throat.

Uposs lay on the ground, his hands raised in a warding gesture… or maybe he was begging for mercy. The pitiful gurgling noises were difficult to interpret, but if Uposs was expecting mercy, he was going to be sorely disappointed. There was not a scrap of mercy anywhere in the wicked grin that split the demon's face as he set to work.

He took his time, tearing Uposs apart piece by piece until he was reduced to a pile of steaming meat, splintered bones, and scattered viscera. The demon nudged the severed head with his foot until the vacant eye sockets were staring up at him then he threw his head back and howled in triumph.

He turned away from the remains and loped off into the darkness. One down… one to go.