Fic: The Truth Will Set You Free ~PG-13 (1/4)

I’m very excited for it to be my day to share. I hope you guys enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next three chapters will be up soon.

The Truth Will Set You Free
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Archive: If you already have my stuff. If not, just ask.
Disclaimer: You all know that I don’t own these characters. I know I don’t own these characters. I think that pretty much covers it.
Summary: Set in S4, after Something Blue. Giles does that truth spell on Spike after all, but what happens when it gets stuck? The truth is sometimes a very uncomfortable thing.

A/N: Written for the seasonal_spuffy  community on Live Journal. The challenge was “fairy tales,” and this story is (very) loosely based on the tale of Thomas the Rhymer. If you’re not familiar with the story, Thomas got taken off to fairyland, and after seven years was returned to the mortal word, unable to speak anything but the truth. Spike, poor guy, finds himself in the same position.

 

Chapter 1

“The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.” ~James A. Garfield

“Why don’t you recite a poem for us, Spike? I’m sure we’re missing out.”

“Xander, that’s enough.” Buffy couldn’t believe she was actually defending Spike, but really, sometimes Xander didn’t know when to drop it. She usually enjoyed spending time at Giles’ place, but recently it had become more of a chore than a break from dorm-life. If Willow had been there, they might have been able to distract Xander between the two of them, but Willow was at the library with a study group. That left Buffy and Giles to deal with Xander and Spike’s sniping.

Well, to be fair, it was more Xander’s doing.

“Buffy—”

“Dead horse, Xan. You’re beating it.”

“She’s quite right, Xander.” Giles spoke before the young man could protest again. “We’re all tired of hearing you bait Spike.”

Buffy spared a glance for Spike, who looked like he was about ready to come unglued. She wasn’t sure she could blame him. The truth spell had seemed like a good idea at the time. They would find out everything that Spike knew, make sure he wasn’t hiding anything else to save his own skin, and voila. They had their own inner window into the Initiative.

The problem came in when Giles tried to break the spell. It wouldn’t break.

Giles said all the right words, sprinkled the right powder, but when Willow asked Spike how he was feeling after the spell was over, the vampire had snarled, “Bloody useless. What do you think?” Spike’s surprised look indicated to all of them that he hadn’t intended to say that. “What did you do to me?” he demanded.

Giles flushed, flipping through his spell book. “I took the spell off.”

“No, you really didn’t,” Spike shot back. “It’s still there. I can feel it.”

“Maybe if you do a reversal spell,” Willow ventured.

“No more spells!” Spike objected forcefully. “You lot have done enough.”

“Perhaps just something to take the truth spell off,” Giles suggested. “Willow might be right. A general reversal spell should do the trick.”

“Wait a minute,” Xander objected. “Why not leave it on?”

There was a pause as everyone considered that idea. “No way,” Spike said. “Would you want to be stuck like this?”

Giles shook his head regretfully. “We don’t know what it would do, Xander,” he said. “Besides, I assure you. Having someone around who can only speak the truth would not necessarily be pleasant.”

“For instance, has anyone told you that you’re beginning to look like the business end of a mop?” Spike asked, the expression on his face letting everyone know that he was prepared to use the truth like a knife.

Xander glared at him. “Hey! I happen to like my hair, and I do not look like a mop!”

“Ignore him, Xander,” Buffy said. “Giles, do you need us to pick anything up at the Magic Box?”

For her part, Buffy had no desire to hear the truth from Spike’s mouth. In fact, the less time she had to spend with him, the better. Ever since Willow’s spell, things had been uncomfortable. The sad fact was that Spike—although definitely evil—was a very good kisser. And hot. He was really hot.

Giles scribbled down a few items and handed her the list. “If you could bring those over tomorrow, I would appreciate it.”

“Sure thing,” Buffy promised.

Buffy had done her part. She had purchased Giles’ magic supplies and delivered them, and her Watcher had done the reversal spell.

And still nothing.

Giles had said that he was sure the spell would wear off eventually, which had left Spike fuming. “Eventually” wasn’t soon enough for him, and Buffy couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit sorry for him. After all, how many times had a quick lie saved her skin? That, and every time someone asked a question in Spike’s vicinity, he felt the need to answer—truthfully, of course.

When Willow asked Giles if he thought she should try conjuring again, Spike commented that she should probably get herself under control before she tried any more spells because the last one had nearly gotten them all killed. When Anya had asked Xander if they could leave, Spike had stated that she was just trying to lose herself in a man because she didn’t know what she really wanted now that she was human.

Xander had asked Buffy why she hadn’t killed him already, and Spike suggested that Xander was too scared to do it himself. That he liked having someone weaker than him around to take potshots at.

Xander had grown red-faced and angry at that, turning to stare at Buffy. “Why haven’t you dusted him yet, Buffy? He’s worthless, a complete waste of space. This is Spike! William the Bloody! How can you let him walk around when he got his name from killing people? When he’d still be killing people if not for that chip?”

“That’s not true.”

The words had sounded like they had been dragged out of Spike one at a time. All eyes were immediately focused on the vampire, and Xander, seeing the alarm in his eyes, asked, “What’s not true?”

Buffy had watched Spike struggle against the spell—struggle and lose. “That’s not how I got my name.”

“Xander, that’s enough,” Willow said. “It’s not important. Spike can’t hurt anybody, and it wouldn’t be right to hurt him.”

“No, I want to know how he got that name if it wasn’t by killing people. So, you’re saying that people called you Spike because you’re such a nice guy?” Xander asked.

“No,” Spike said, obviously trying to say as little as possible.

Xander raised his eyebrows. “Then you’re saying you got the name William the Bloody by being a nice guy?”

“No.”

“Xander,” Buffy said in a warning tone. “This is stupid. Who cares where his name came from?”

“I do,” Xander replied. “I want to know. How did you get the name William the Bloody?”

Spike’s face had twisted with the effort, but it was to no avail. The spell was still strong enough to compel him to speak, and speak the truth. “It was for my bloody awful poetry.”

Xander probably would have kept on asking Spike questions after that, but Buffy had stepped in. Not that she hadn’t been curious, but Spike had looked about ready to explode, and she had felt—a little sorry for him.

Just like she felt a little sorry for him now.

It had been four days, and the spell was still going strong. Spike was looking more and more like he was ready to do something nasty—like rip Xander’s throat out, chip or no chip—and Xander didn’t show any signs of ending the teasing.

Buffy had the sense that Spike had been right on the money. Xander liked being able to dish out the ridicule, probably because he’d taken so much of it. Still, it didn’t make her feel very good about him.

Not that she minded doing her own share of tormenting Spike, but that was because he was Spike, and it was kind of fun. Now it was more like picking on the slow kid. Buffy had never been the sort to torment an easy target, not unless they deserved it.

While Spike might deserve a little bit of it, this was getting a little out of hand.

“Let’s go, Spike.”

He favored her with an impartial glare, his blue eyes sunk deep into their sockets. “What the bloody hell for?”

“Because I’m ready to patrol, and I have the feeling that if I leave you with Xander, you’ll probably end up killing him,” Buffy replied.

Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? So?”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Come on, Buffy. Spike’s impotent now.”

“Hey!” Spike protested. “Pick a different word.”

“Shut up, Xander,” Buffy said, although there was little heat in her tone. “Just because it’s going to kill him, doesn’t mean Spike won’t try and take a piece out of you.” She looked over at her Watcher. “Do you mind?”

“No, you should go, and it might be a good idea for…” Giles paused, rephrasing his words slightly to make it sound a little less patronizing. “It’s probably a good idea for you to have company.”

Buffy nodded. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Spike replied, obviously relieved to have a question he could answer honestly without embarrassing himself further. “Right behind you.”

~~~~~

Spike figured he was in hell. It was the only reasonable explanation. Sometime during the last few weeks, he’d died, and now he was in his own personal hell. Even the fact that he was outside, away from that annoying git, Harris, didn’t make him feel any better.

Probably because he was still stuck with the Slayer.

The worst part was that Spike couldn’t help but remember what it had been like to hold her, touch her—kiss her. Maybe he’d thought about shagging Buffy before draining her dry, but his fantasies had certainly not included getting married.

They had fought the entire time, of course. Pissed each other off about every five minutes. At the same time, they had been in love.

Manufactured love, Spike reminded himself. It had been a ridiculous spell. Once the spell was gone, he and Buffy had gone right back to hating each other.

And now Spike found himself at the mercy of another spell, not even able to control what came out of his mouth most of the time.

He strode along beside Buffy, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the silence almost comfortable. Neither of them seemed inclined to talk, and Spike couldn’t say that he minded the silence. It was easier when he could keep his mouth shut these days.

“If we let you go, would you promise to stay out of trouble?” Buffy suddenly asked.

“Yeah,” Spike replied. He would definitely promise to stay out of trouble. Whether or not he actually managed it was a different story altogether. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you staying with Giles isn’t working,” Buffy replied bluntly. “Xander’s going to get himself hurt.”

“Right,” Spike ground out. “Because he’s not asking for it.”

She shot him a look. “That’s not what I said.”

Another silence fell, this time not so comfortable.

“What am I doing out here, Summers?”

“You’re getting a chance to stretch your legs and get away from Xander, and I get to patrol and kill demons,” she replied. “Call it a win-win situation for both of us.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you ask me to come along?” Spike pressed.

“Because I thought it might make things more interesting.” She smiled at him sweetly. “With any luck, any demons I run into will go after you, which should make things easier for me.”

“Thanks so much,” Spike replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The first cemetery they passed through was deserted. Spike was a little disappointed. He’d always enjoyed watching Buffy fight, and if he couldn’t partake in the violence, watching it was the next best thing.

It was the only good thing at the moment.

He was honestly tempted to end it all. The chip was one thing, but the spell was the final straw. If it didn’t wear off soon, Spike figured he probably would find a way to stake himself. Or maybe he’d just meet the sun.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t.” Spike could hear the weariness in his own voice, and he hated it.

He could feel her hesitate. “Okay.”

The silence stretched out, and Spike waited, silently counting in his head. He didn’t believe for one minute that Buffy’s curiosity wouldn’t get the better of her.

“Would you kiss me again?”

“What?” Spike asked, stopping dead in his tracks and staring at her.

Buffy immediately lost her nerve. “Never mind.”

“No, you don’t,” Spike said, jogging the few steps to catch up with her since she’d sped up. “You don’t ask a bloke that sort of question and then just drop it.”

“I can if I want to,” Buffy said. “It was a stupid question, and I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it.”

“Fine,” Spike grumbled.

It was Buffy’s turn to stop. “Would you kiss me?”

“Why?”

“Because when we—kissed, with the spell? It was nice. I’m sure it was just the spell, though, and if I kissed you now, you would probably be a horrible kisser. So if I kiss you now, I can get over it.”

It was the most ridiculous explanation Spike had ever heard. Although, there was a sort of twisted logic behind it. Under the spell, they had been in love, so it only made sense that they’d enjoyed kissing one another. Now, without the fake feelings the spell had wrought, they would probably hate it, and they could forget it ever happened.

Of course, the way Buffy had put it, Spike had everything to prove, since he was most certainly not a bad kisser. He’d had over a century to practice, after all.

The idea was rather appealing. While he might not share Buffy’s certainty that trying again would solve the problem, Spike remembered what it had felt like, and it certainly hadn’t been all that bad.

It had been pretty damn good, actually, and with the way his life had been going lately, Spike could use a taste of something sweet.

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Buffy asked. Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“You think I want anybody to know that I voluntarily locked lips with the Slayer?” Spike asked. “That would be a quick way to get myself killed.”

Looking partially mollified, Buffy nodded. “Okay. So how are we doing this?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me to spell it out?”

“No!” Buffy shot back. “Just—come here.”

A smirk played around the corners of Spike’s lips. “Ordering me around is not going to do you much good, pet.”

“Don’t call me ‘pet.’” Buffy sighed. “Please come here.”

Spike moved so they stood toe-to-toe. “How’s this?”

“Fine.” She looked up at him. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

“Are you kidding?” Spike scoffed. It did feel a little scary, though. If she’d asked if he was scared, Spike would have had to tell her the truth. That he was a little bit scared because this felt big. Monumental. Kissing her while not under the influence of a spell, and not just before killing her.

Spike had noticed that she had refrained from asking any questions that would cause him further embarrassment. Buffy could have grilled him on his poetry, his past, any number of things that would expose him to ridicule. She’d done nothing of the sort, and Spike couldn’t help but wonder why.

Not that he was going to ask.

When it appeared that Buffy was going to make him take the first step, Spike bent his head, his lips touching hers tentatively. She made no move to shove him away, and he deepened the kiss slowly, becoming more sure of himself when he felt her respond.

He’d been half-tempted to let her keep her little fantasy that he wasn’t nearly as good as she remembered. The temptation had lasted for only a moment, however, because Spike wanted to be sure that she remembered this. In fact, if she ended up comparing every other guy unfavorably to him, that wouldn’t break his undead heart in the least.

Soon enough Spike’s only thoughts were of Buffy—her lips, the hand that clutched at his duster, the smell of her hair.

It really was too bad that she was the Slayer and he hated her, because he was certain that he could lose himself this way.

When Spike finally broke the kiss so Buffy could catch her breath, he tilted his head. “So? Was it really that bad?”

Buffy looked a little stunned, her lips swollen. Then her eyes widened for another reason entirely. “Oh, shit.”

Spike glanced up, over her shoulder, and he realized that they were surrounded by a group of unidentified demons. “Bloody hell.”

~~~~~

If Buffy had stopped to think about it, she might have realized that she and Spike had moved into a back-to-back position. Even though they fought with one another constantly, give them a common enemy, and they were a synchronized fighting force.

Of course, that was one of those things that Buffy didn’t care to examine too closely.

“What are they?” she asked him.

“No bleedin’ clue,” Spike replied.

Buffy could hear the note of fear in his voice. She couldn’t blame him. Spike had no way to defend himself, and there were more than a dozen—way more than she could take on by herself. “Okay. We need a plan. Do you have a plan?”

“Run for it?”

“Can we get through?”

“If we both rush them at once,” Spike replied. “Might be able to break the line.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “You’d probably better let me go first. It’ll make it easier.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Buffy was fairly sure that Spike didn’t like the idea, but he was smart enough to know that she was right. By going first, she’d take the brunt of the impact, and it was less likely that the chip would fire and incapacitate him. “Here goes nothing,” she murmured.

Buffy rushed the circle of demons only to smack into an invisible wall, bouncing back into Spike’s chest.

His arms tightened around her reflexively, preventing her from taking a fall. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know!” Buffy exclaimed. “But it’s solid.”

Spike released her, walking towards the demons purposefully. They weren’t moving—hadn’t moved since Buffy had first seen them, in fact, and she wondered what the heck they were doing.

Spike pushed against a wall that wasn’t supposed to be there, and Buffy started getting really nervous. Whatever else the demons were planning, they wanted to keep her and Spike in one place. The Slayer was prepared to deal with demons, even lots of demons, but she didn’t know what to do about invisible walls.

“This isn’t good.”

“No kidding,” Buffy replied, her sarcasm beginning to set in with the panic. The panic only grew when the air began to glow with blue fire. Buffy could only assume that the light outlined the perimeter of the barrier. “What are they doing?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Shouldn’t there be chanting or something?” Buffy asked. “When Giles and Willow do spells there’s always chanting. And candles.”

Spike moved closer to her, dropping into a fighting position out of instinct, although there wouldn’t be much he could do if it came down to a fight. “Not everyone needs that kind of stuff,” he said absently, focused on the emergency at hand.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something to stop them?” Buffy asked a little desperately.

Spike gave a short bark of laughter. “What would you suggest?”

The fiery blue walls started moving in on them, edging ever closer, forcing both of them into the middle of the circle, ever closer together. “I don’t know, but I really don’t want to be here when those walls close in on us.”

“It’s not lookin’ like we’ve got much choice,” Spike replied.

And then blue fire was upon them, and the world disappeared.

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/77060.html