Chapter 14: Lie to Me

November 3, 1997 – Monday

City Playground

Playgrounds at night are lonely places. Children should not be left in them.

Bad things can happen.

Awash in eerie moonglow, the little merry-go-round turned slowly. The swings rocked, as if gently pushed by the night wind.

Eight-year-old James sat inside the jungle gym and looked out over the park for his family's minivan. At home, it was warm and cozy; his older sister was probably catching up on her Melrose Place reruns while something good cooked for dinner.

"Come on, Mom," he said, half-angry, half-anxious. "She's always late." She was always after him to be home by dark. But when she was supposed to pick him up, where was she?

"Are you lost?" asked a voice.

James turned, startled but not scared. It was a very pretty lady in a long white dress. Her skin was almost as white as her dress. She had a funny smile on her lips and she seemed to have trouble walking.

James wondered if she was hurt.

"No, my mom's supposed to pick me up, is all," he told her, climbing out of the jungle gym to face her.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" She talked funny, too. Like the bad guys on the cartoons.

"No, thank you," he said politely.

The lady walked closer to the jungle gym and started slowly around, running her long, white fingers along the bars. Now she was a little closer, and now James was just a little bit nervous.

He walked around the other way. Her eyes looked funny. Like she wasn't really seeing him.

"My mummy used to sing me to sleep at night. 'Run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch.' She had the sweetest voice." She closed her eyes and smiled.

Okay, now he was getting scared. Now he was starting to figure out that this lady was maybe kind of cuckoo, running around in what looked like her nightgown with no sweater and not minding the cold.

And now she was staring at him. "What will your mummy sing when they find your body?"

He didn't understand what she meant, but he understood that he should do something to protect himself.

He began to inch away from her. "I'm not supposed to talk to people," he told her.

She looked at him like you do when you watch someone eat something you really want. "Well, I'm not a person, see," she began, coming toward him as he kept moving away, "so that's just—"

A dark figure stepped between James and the lady. James jerked back, looking up to see the face of a man. The man looked so angry he almost frightened James worse than the lady.

So, when he said, "Run home," James did. As fast as his legs could go.

And he never played in that park again.

Angel made sure the boy was safe. Then he took a moment before he turned to face the child's attacker.

As he did, her pale face lit up. He had known it would. And he hated himself for it.

"My Angel," she said in her breathy, singsong voice. The voice of madness.

"Hello, Drusilla." He felt no similar joy on seeing her. Only guilt and the perpetual remorse that, thanks to the Romani curse, haunted his nights and plagued his days.

She and Spike had burst upon Sunnydale a few months before. He wasn't certain what had drawn them here. Both had personal scores to settle with him, Angel, but it was clear they had moved in for the long haul. After Buffy had killed the Master the previous spring, the vampires turned to the Anointed One as their leader. But Spike had shoved the demonic little boy into a wire cage and allowed the daylight to burn him to a cinder.

Drusilla glided slowly toward him, a sad, starved wraith. She looked very ill. "Do you remember the song Mummy used to sing me? Pretty."

He could not meet her gaze. "I remember," Angel said, his tone flat and low as all the awful images ran through his mind.

"Yes. You do," she said pointedly, and he was certain her mind was filled with their joined past as well.

"Drusilla, leave here." He looked at her hard, wanting very badly for her to listen to him. "I'm offering you that chance. Take Spike and get out."

"Or you'll hurt me?" She was not afraid.

He looked down again. He hated seeing her like this. Hated seeing what she had become.

"No. No, you can't. Not anymore." A whisper of a smile crossed her face. Did she mean that he was incapable of hurting her now that he had gotten back his soul, or that the wounds he had inflicted on her ran so deep she could not be hurt worse?

"If you don't leave," he said, "it'll go badly. For all of us."

"My dear boy's gone all away, hasn't he? To her." She was mournful.

"Who?" Angel asked, wary, alert.

It was a wet night. Rainwater glistened between the illuminated plastic skylights that bulged like loaves of bread on the rooftop where Buffy patrolled.

"The girl. The Slayer," Drusilla said. "Your heart stinks of her." She put her hand on Angel's chest, caressing him. "Poor little thing. She has no idea what's in store."

Buffy came to the edge of the roof and peered down over a playground. Hunting ground, more like.

Vampires congregated here—

She froze.

Angel was standing with a pretty girl with long, black hair. Though his back was to Buffy, she would recognize Angel's dark hair and well-cut jacket anywhere. The girl wore a long, white dress, and she was in his arms. Buffy watched, shocked. Were they kissing?

"This can't go on, Drusilla," Angel said. "It's got to end."

"Oh, no, my pet." She leaned in close, as if taking in his essence. In Angel's ear, she whispered, "This is just the beginning."

She drifted back into the night.

With fierce sorrow, he watched her go.

So did Buffy.

Near tears.

November 4, 1997 – Tuesday

Sunnydale High School

Giles was accompanying Ms. Calendar down the stairs. "It's a secret," she was saying.

Giles pressed, "What kind of secret?"

"The kind that's secret. You know, where I don't actually tell you what it is." She grinned at him. He knew she found him highly amusing. As Xander Harris might put it, that was a plus.

He was not to be put off. "I just think it's customary that when two people are going out for an evening, that they both have an idea what they're doing."

They reached the bottom of the stairs and turned right. He was on his way to the library, and she to her classroom.

"Oh, come on!" she chided him gently. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

He tried another tack. "But, I…how will I know what to wear?"

She wryly took in his appearance. "Do you own anything else?"

"Not as such," he admitted.

She chuckled. "Rupert, you're going to have to trust me."

"All right." He surrendered. "I put myself in your hands."

She walked past him with a teasing smile on her face. "That sounds like fun." Grinning, she turned as she walked away not to the computer laboratory but to one of the exit doors. "Okay. Seven-thirty, tomorrow night?"

He was still processing the comment about her hands and fun with a pleased expression on his face.

"Yes."

Buffy waited a beat as Giles and Ms. Calendar finished their goo-goo eyes session. She came up to him and said, "Hey."

They began to walk together toward the library. He asked her, "Did we hunt last night?"

"I did a couple of quick sweeps downtown."

"Any encounters?"

She hesitated. There was no need to tell him, was there? Angel meeting girls on the sly had nothing to do with the forces of darkness. Uncomfortable, she said, "Nothing vampiry."

"Well, I've been researching your friend Spike. The profile is fairly unappetizing. But I still haven't got a bead on why he's here."

Buffy could barely keep her mind on the conversation. She kept seeing Angel with that girl. She said, "You'll figure it out."

"Are you all right?" Giles peered at her. "You seem a little glum."

"I'm fine."

He was clearly not convinced. "Well, why don't you take the night off?"

"Oh, that'd be nice," she told him sincerely.

They were at the library with its porthole windows. Giles brightened as if happy to please her. "Yes. You could spend some time with Angel."

That hurt. Of course, Giles didn't know it hurt. "I don't know," Buffy said, downcast. "He might have other plans." Sadly, she walked away.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

In history, they were apparently discussing the French Revolution, but Buffy barely listened.

"Well, it seems like Louis XVI was just sort of a weak king," someone said.

The teacher responded, "Well, that's fair enough. Any other impressions?"

Buffy unfolded Willow's note and read, 'Do you know who she was?'

In the row ahead of them, Xander sat next to Cordelia, who was actually participating.

"I just don't see why everyone is always picking on Marie Antoinette," Cordelia said. "I can so relate to her. She worked really hard to look that good. And people just don't appreciate that kind of effort."

Xander looked at her with his wry Xander polite stare.

Buffy wrote, 'No. Dark hair. Old dress. Pretty.' She folded the note and handed it back to Willow.

Cordelia was still busily defending the French monarchy, based on its fashion sense. "And I know, the peasants were all depressed."

Xander offered, "I think you mean, 'oppressed.'"

"Whatever." Clearly, she didn't want to be interrupted or corrected. "They were cranky. So, they're like, 'Let's lose some heads.' That's fair? And Marie Antoinette cared about them. She was going to let them have cake!"

Their teacher said politely as Xander stared, "Yes, well, that's a very interesting perspective."

Willow scribbled on the note and handed it back to Buffy. Buffy opened it. 'Vampire?'

The bell rang. Everyone stood and gathered their books. Buffy turned to Willow as they walked into the hall and said, "I don't know. I don't think so. They seemed pretty friendly."

Xander caught up with them, ready for gossip. "Who's friendly?"

"No one," Buffy replied.

"Angel and a girl," Willow filled in.

"Will, do we have to be in total share mode?" Buffy asked, giving her a look.

"Hey, it's me," Xander reminded her. "If Angel's doing something wrong, I need to know." He smiled. "Because as your best friend it's my job to stand up for you, just as you would do for me or Willow."

"Thanks," Buffy said sadly.

They walked into the lounge.

"Anyways, you just need cheering up. And I know just the thing." He hummed some funky music as he pumped his arms and swiveled his hips. "Crazed dance party at the Bronze!"

Buffy sighed. "I don't know."

Xander restrained himself with a few sways. "Very calm dance party at the Bronze."

He sat next to Willow in a chair. "Moping at the Bronze."

Someone said behind Buffy, "I'd suggest a box of Oreos dunked in apple juice, but maybe he's over that phase."

She'd know that voice anywhere. Buffy whirled around. "Ford?" She threw her arms around the tall, dark-haired boy. "Ford!"

He hugged her back. "Hey, Summers, how you been?"

This was neat. "What are you doing here?"

"Matriculating."

She had no idea what he meant. "Huh?"

"I'm finishing out my senior year at Sunnydale High. Dad got transferred."

"This is great," Buffy said, getting a happy of her own.

Ford looked kind of shy. She remembered his long bangs and his angular face. They used to joke that he looked like the hero of a dozen Japanese anime cartoons. "I'm glad you think so. I wasn't sure you'd remember me."

"Remember you? Duh, we were in school together for seven years. You were my giant fifth-grade crush."

"So. You two know each other?" Xander cut in.

"Oh!" Buffy looked at her two friends. She led Ford to the chairs where her two best friends—correction, best friends from Sunnydale—sat waiting to be introduced, and said, "I'm sorry. This is Ford. Uh, Billy Fordham. This is Xander and Willow." She pointed at them in turn.

"Hi," Xander said with one of his polite, fake smiles that sometimes-accompanied Cordelia's history rambles.

"Hey," Ford replied.

"Nice to meet you." Willow smiled very sweetly.

"Ford and I went to Hemery together, in L.A." Buffy smiled at Ford bigtime. "And now you're here? For real?"

"Dad got the transfer, and boom. He just dragged me out of Hemery and put me down here."

"This is great!" She gazed up at him, remembering more normal days. Fifth grade had been way before she'd known she was the Slayer. Before her parents started fighting and eventually split up. He was a symbol of all that, and it made her feel warm inside to have him standing next to her. "Well, I mean, it's hard—sudden move, all your friends, delicate time, very emotional—but let's talk about me: this is great!"

Willow said, "So you two were sweeties in the fifth grade?"

"Not even," Buffy told her. She looked at him slyly. "Ford wouldn't give me the time of day."

"Well, while Rutherford was discovering his orientation, so was I," Ford explained. "I realized I was straight while he of course realized he was bi. I tried to let him down easy."

Buffy said brightly, "It was terrible. I moped over him for months after that revelation. Sitting in my room listening to that Divinyl's song, 'I Touch Myself.'" She ticked her glance over to Willow and Xander, then to Ford. "Of course, I had no idea what it was about."

Ford scratched his cheek and Xander gave a we-knew-that wave and politely waited for her to move on. Willow just sat there.

Move on Buffy did. "Hey," she said to Ford, "are you busy tonight? We're going to the Bronze. It's the local club and you have to come."

"I'd love to," Ford said. "But if you guys already had plans…would I be imposing?"

"Only in the literal sense," Xander assured him.

"Okay then." He sounded very pleased. "I got to find the admissions office, get my papers in order."

Buffy said, "Well, I'll take you there." To Willow and Xander, she said, "See you guys in French."

"Good meeting you," Ford said. Buffy's friends returned the compliment.

The Bronze

As the music rocked and the usual suspects danced the night away, the eight-ball dropped into the pocket of the pool table.

"Ford, you made it," Buffy said, joining Ford, Xander and Willow.

Ford lined up his next shot while Xander anxiously chalked up the tip of his cue. He smiled at Buffy. "It wasn't hard to find."

Willow said, "Buffy, Ford was just telling us about the ninth-grade talent show."

Buffy frowned in mock seriousness, even though it was a pretty embarrassing story. "Oh, God, Ford. Stop that. The more people you tell about it, the more people I have to kill."

Ford hit the nearest ball with his cue. "You can't touch me, Summers. I know all your darkest secrets."

Xander drawled, "Care to make a small wager on that?"

Buffy shot a warning look from Xander to Ford and said, "I'm going to go grab a drink. Ford, try not to talk." She walked to the bar. As she arrived, the man in front of her turned to go, drink in hand. It was Angel. She said in a low voice, "Oh."

Angel brightened at the sight of her. "Hey. I was hoping you'd show."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Ford looked over at Angel with Buffy as Willow and Xander checked him out. Willow said helpfully, "That's Angel."

"He's Rutherford's beau," Xander added.

Ford studied Angel. "He's not in school, right? He looks older than Rutherford."

Xander said archly, "You're not wrong."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy looked up into Angel's face and asked the question she did not really want to ask, but knew she had to. "So, what'd you do last night?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

She hadn't wanted to ask because she hadn't wanted to know if Angel could, and would, lie to her. So, she pressed, "Nothing at all? You ceased to exist?"

"No, I mean I stayed in. Read." He frowned slightly, as if confused by her line of questioning.

"Oh." So, he was lying to her, and he was good at it, too. If she hadn't seen him 'reading' last night, she would believe every word, every flicker of his expression.

Angel kept peering at her. She knew he knew something was up with her.

She walked back to the group. She really didn't want to go into it right then.

If ever.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy rejoined her friends at the pool table, aware that Angel was trailing behind her.

Ford asked, "Didn't want that soda after all?"

"Not thirsty," she said uncomfortably.

"Hey, Angel," Willow greeted him. Buffy looked down, away, anywhere but at her vampire boyfriend.

"Hi," Ford said.

Now she was forced into hostess mode, and she tried to make the best of it. "This is Ford. We went to school together in L.A."

The two guys shook. Ford's eyes widened. "Whoa. Cold hands."

Xander drawled, "You're not wrong."

Angel's face was a mask as he regarded Ford. "So, you're here visiting Bu…Rutherford?" he said catching himself at the last moment. He wasn't sure if Buffy's friend knew that Buffy was trans for not.

"No. I'm actually here to stay," Ford replied. "Just moved down." He and Angel faced off.

Perhaps to smooth things over, as she often did, Willow gestured to the pool table and asked, "Angel, do you want to play?"

"You know, it's getting really crowded in here tonight," Buffy blurted. "I'm a little hot." She looked at Ford, deliberately excluding Angel. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Uh, sure," Ford said. "That'd be nice."

Buffy looked first at Angel, then at Xander and Willow. She murmured, "See you tomorrow." Then she and Ford peeled off.

Angel stood stonily as they passed him. "Good night," he said stiffly.

"Take care," Ford answered.

An awkward silence followed the awkward scene.

Xander piped up, "Okay. Once more, with tension."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "He just moved here?"

"Are you jealous, Angel?" Willow questioned.

"What?" Angel asked looking pained.

"Ford said he was straight," Willow started to inform the vampire. But she found he had vanished. She sighed. "I made him do that thing where he's gone."

Streets of Sunnydale

Buffy wondered what Angel thought of her grand exit as she walked along with Ford. Was he hurt? Did he care beyond the male-ego thing of caring?

"So, that was your boyfriend?" Ford asked innocently.

"No," she said, then reconsidered. "Well, yeah. Maybe." She gave a little laugh. "Could we lay off the tough questions for a while?"

Ford shrugged. "Sorry. So, what else do you do for fun around here?"

As he was speaking, Buffy heard the sounds of a scuffle around the corner. Time to think fast. "Um, uh, my wallet!" she cried. "I left my wallet at the Bronze. Could you get it for me? Thanks!"

"Uh, okay," Ford said.

"Good. Run. Thanks."

Taking off at a trot, he left to do she asked. As soon as his back was turned Buffy raced around the corner.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Intrigued by Buffy's behavior, Ford stopped walking toward the Bronze and turned around. He started moving slowly toward the alley. A girl raced past him, sobbing with terror. Ford glanced at her, then inched closer to the corner, more intrigued than ever.

Sounds of fighting broke the stillness of the night. A trash can lid sailed through the air like a Frisbee.

Ford turned the corner.

It was not a very good vampire. Stupid, slow, and easy to hit. However, it wasn't all that easy to tire.

Finally, Buffy threw it against the wall and staked it. There was that moment where it shrieked and held its shape in dust, then exploded. She whirled around and headed back to the Bronze. Talk about your awkward interruptions. All she needed now—

Was what she had. Ford was staring at her.

"Oh, you're back," she said awkwardly.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Thinking on her feet after a battle was not her strong point. She blurted, "There was a cat."

He was going to believe that in a million years. Still, she had to finish what she had started. Keeping her eyes big and innocent, she spun her very bad web. "A cat, here, and then there was, another cat. And they fought, the cats, and then they left." It was a not-good lie delivered in a not-good way. Maybe she should be proud that she was so honest.

Ford said simply, "Oh. I thought you were just slaying a vampire."

Her eyes, still wide for her cat routine, bulged. "What? Whating a what?"

Ford smiled at her. "I know. You don't have to lie about anything. I've been trying to figure out the right time to tell you. I know you're the Slayer and that you're a girl."

Buffy's eyes went wide at the double reveal. "How?" she started.

"Which one do you want first?" Ford wondered.

"I guess the girl part," Buffy admitted.

"It dates back to the talent contest in the ninth grade," Ford admitted as she started walking.

Rosenberg Home

Willow lay on her bed with her stuffed animals, wearing her bunny slippers, talking with Buffy on the phone. She said, "Just like that? He told you?"

Buffy's voice sounded very up. "Just like that. On the Slayer he said he found out right before I got booted from Hemery. On me being trans, he said he realized it during the ninth-grade talent contest."

"Wow. It's neat." Willow paused. "Is it neat?"

At her end of the line, Buffy smiled. She said, "Yeah, I guess it is. I won't have to worry that he's going to find out either of my secrets. It just makes everything easier."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Willow's bedtime ritual was nearly complete: a swift face wash, followed by astringent for potential zits, then teeth, and now, her long hair. She had to comb it out every night. Someone was standing outside her French door. Nervously, she peered through her venetian blinds.

"Oh!" she cried, stunned. "Angel." She opened her door making sure there were no parent noises nearby. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you." He looked very serious and somewhat unhappy.

"Oh." She pulled the door all the way open and waited for him to enter. He didn't move. "Well?"

"I can't. Unless you invite me, I can't come in."

Caught off guard—never in a million years would Willow have guessed that Angel would one day see her in her nightshirt and fuzzy bunny slippers—she replied sincerely, "Oh. Okay. Uh, I invite you. To come in."

He stepped over the threshold. Willow turned toward her bed. Oh, no! Her bra was lying on her bedspread for all the world—and all the vampires in her room—to see. Hastily she stuffed it under her pillow.

Angel said, "If this is a bad time . . ."

"No, I just…" She cast an anxious glance at the door to the hallway. It was ajar. "I'm not supposed to have boys in my room." Which wasn't exactly the truth, her parents had let both Xander and Buffy, since they believed Buffy was a boy, be in her room. But her parents also knew that neither Buffy or Xander had any sort of romantic or sexual interest in Willow, that they were strictly platonic friends.

"Well," Angel said, with the hint of a smile, "I promise to behave myself."

"Okay," she said, nodding her head. "Good."

He sighed. "I guess I need help."

"Help?" She brightened, eager to have something to do besides stand there in her bunny slippers. "You mean like on homework?" She rethought. "No, because you're old and you already know stuff."

"I want you to track someone down," he told her. "On the Net." He gestured with his head toward her computer.

"Oh!" Even better than helping with homework. "Great! I'm so the Net girl." She crossed to her desk, sat down, and booted up.

"I just want to find everything I can. Records, affiliates. I'm not even sure what I'm looking for yet."

She was already in the zone. Poising her hands over the keyboard, she said, "What's the name?"

"Billy Fordham," he replied shortly.

She stopped. Then typing, she ventured, "Uh, Angel, if I say something you really don't want to hear, do you promise not to bite me?"

He glowered down on her with his dark, dark eyes and said, with not much joy, "Are you going to tell me again that I'm jealous?"

This conversation was making her nervous. "Well, you do sometimes get that way."

He thought for a moment. Then he said, "You know, I never used to." He sat on her bed. "Things used to be pretty simple. A hundred years just hanging out, feeling guilty." He almost smiled. "I really honed my brooding skills. Then Buffy comes along." He nodded. "Yeah, I get jealous."

"You don't have to be," Willow informed him. "Ford said he was straight. Of course, that was before he revealed to Buffy that he knew she was a girl."

Angel let out a sigh. "Regardless I know people and my gut tells me this is a wrong guy."

"Okay." That was enough for her. She trusted Angel's gut. So, she continued her search. "But if there isn't anything weird…hey, that's weird."

Angel rose from her bed and stood behind her, looking at the screen. "What?"

"I just checked the school records and he's not in them. I mean, usually they transfer your grades and stuff. But he's not even registered." Now a little concerned, she typed faster.

Angel said, "He said he was in school with you guys, right?"

"Let me see if I can—"

From the hall, Willow's mom called, "Willow? Are you still up?"

Willow freaked. "Ack! Go!" Angel glided to the French door, still inside her room. She called, "I'm just going to bed now, Mom." To Angel she murmured, "Come by at sunset tomorrow. I'll keep looking."

He nodded. Then he added, "Don't tell Buffy what we're doing, all right?"

Willow wasn't happy. "You want me to lie to her? It's Buffy."

"Just don't bring it up," Angel pressed. "Till we know what's what."

"Okay." That wasn't lying. Exactly. "It's probably nothing."

Angel said sincerely, "That'd be nice."

November 5, 1997 – Wednesday

Sunnydale High School

It was Ford's second day at school. Willow was getting a drink at the water fountain as Buffy and Ford approached. "Will!" Buffy called. "What's up?"

Willow jerked ramrod straight, choking slightly as she squeaked, "Nothing."

Buffy said, "Do you want to hang? We're cafeteria bound."

Willow's eyes skittered right, left. She said, in a jerking, stilted tone, "I'm going to work in the computer lab. On school work that I have. So, I cannot hang just now." She glanced at Ford. "Hi, Ford."

"Morning," he replied in his friendly way.

Buffy eyed her best friend. "Okay, Will. Fess up."

Willow had that headlight/deer thing going. "What?"

"Are you drinking coffee again?" Buffy asked in her best mom voice. "Because we talked about this."

Willow burst out in a peal of semi-maniacal laughter. As if she needed to elaborate, she explained to Ford, "It makes me jumpy." Then to both Buffy and Ford, she said, "I have to go. Away." And off she fled.

Ford said, "Nice girl."

"There aren't two of those in the world," Buffy said, chuckling.

Then Giles walked up. He looked at Ford, then at Buffy, and said, "Rutherford. Ms. Calendar and I are going…somewhere…tonight. She's given me the number of her beeper thingy in case you need me for"—again he glanced at Ford—"study help. Suddenly."

Buffy lowered her voice and leaned toward her Watcher. "He knows, Giles."

Giles was clearly taken aback. "What?"

Buffy was actually enjoying this. "Ford knows I'm the Slayer and that I'm trans."

"I know," Ford put in.

"Oh. Very good. Buffy." Giles smiled politely at Ford as he began to pull Buffy aside, saying "excuse me," to Ford. He stood a distance away with her, whispering anxiously. "You aren't by any chance betraying your secrets just to impress ah, cute boys, are you?"

She smiled. "I didn't tell him. He knew about both."

"Okay. Right, then." He considered a moment. "Just remember, if you—"

"Go," she urged him. "Experience this thing called fun. I'll try not to have a crisis."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"And on your right, once again, the beautiful campus," Buffy informed Ford, she had been showing him around town. "I think you've now seen pretty much everything there is to see in Sunnydale."

Ford said slowly, "Well, it's really—"

"Feel free to say, 'dull.'"

"Okay." He nodded. "Dull's good." He added, "Or maybe not so dull. Is that more vampires?"

Then Buffy saw them: two vampires, sneaking toward the administration building. She nodded. "Must be the weather." She pulled some supplies out of her pocket: a cross for Ford and a stake for herself. To her surprise, he pulled a beginner-class stake of his own from his pocket. "Stick close to me," she told him.

Together they snuck toward the building, up the stairs, and toward a darkened corner. Buffy scanned left, right. There were no vampires to be seen.

"Maybe they were just passing through," Ford suggested.

Buffy turned around to answer Ford. "I don't think so."

Then a blond female vampire raced up behind Buffy. Buffy punched the vamp in the forehead with her knee, then threw her into a forward roll. The girl vampire lay stunned, but a second, much bigger, vampire flung himself at Buffy and took her up and over the balcony railing.

They landed on the grass and Buffy began to whale on him: a kick to the face, a few good hard punches, and a plain, vanilla staking.

The blond lay on her back, an actual vampire. Ford bent over her with the cross, pinning her to the ground. He held the stake against her chest and said in a rush, "You've got one chance to live. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you go."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy huffed it up the stairs and found Ford, all alone. She said, "Where's the other one?"

Ford was breathing hard, winded. "I killed her." He coughed. Coughed harder. "I killed her and she just turned to dust. It was amazing."

Buffy looked at him with new respect.

Sunset Club

Xander, Willow, and Angel strode through the industrial section of town like the three somethings, make it Amigos, make it Stooges, make it the Kingston Trio.

Just make it more and more concerned about Buffy as Willow continued to reveal her lack of revelations.

"The only thing I could track down was this address. The Sunset Club. I still didn't find anything incriminating."

Angel stated the obvious, so at least he was good for something. "He leaves no paper trail, no records. That's incriminating enough."

"Yeah. I'm going to have to go with Dead Boy on that one," Xander said generously.

Angel was obviously irritated. "Could you not call me that?"

They reached a particularly rundown building with a setting sun painted on a sign above the door. Angel knocked on the wide metal door. A little window slid open. Angel said, "We're friends of Ford's."

The head bobbed. The window slid shut.

The door opened.

It was some kind of underground Goth club, as spare as the Bronze, but weird and cold with blue neon lighting. Everybody was wearing black corsets and lacy, ruffly things, and had dyed their hair ultra-black.

As they stood on the balcony, Willow said anxiously, "Boy, we blend right in."

Xander called that and raised it a nickel. "In no way do we stick out like sore thumbs."

"Let's look around," Angel said. He did not look like Happy Dead Boy, but his darker clothes blended in better. "You guys check out downstairs."

"Sure thing, Bossy the Cow," Xander bit off. Willow touched his arm to keep him simmering near room temperature.

The two of them started down the stairs as Angel made his way around the balcony.

Willow, as per usual, was pondering. She said, "Okay, but do they really stick out?"

Xander, as per usual, had not lifted off from the homeworld on the same trajectory. "What?"

"Sore thumbs. Do they stick out? I mean, have you ever seen a thumb and gone, 'Wow, that baby is sore'?"

Xander regarded her fondly. "You have too many thoughts."

From above them on the balcony, Angel checked out the scene. Xander and Willow took the last step off the metal stairs, to be greeted by a dude standing in front of a coffin.

Xander said to Willow, "Okay. Are you and I noticing a theme here?"

Willow offered, "As in 'vampires, yay'?"

"That's the one."

Speaking of yay, a Wonderbra vampirette hottie stood before them with a fetching smile of welcome on her ruby-red lips. She said, "You guys are newbies. I can tell."

"Oh, no," Willow said brightly. "We come here all the time."

Vampirella looked tolerant. "Don't be ashamed. It's cool that you're open to it. We welcome anyone who's interested in the Lonely Ones."

"The Lonely Ones?" Willow repeated.

"Vampires," Angel said behind them. He was even less happy than earlier in the mission.

Xander explained to the hottie, "Oh. We usually call them the nasty pointy bitey ones."

"So many people have that misconception," the girl explained patiently. "But they who walk the night are not interested in harming anyone. They are creatures above us. Exalted."

"You're a fool." Angel's voice was so harsh that even Xander was thrown by it. Willow, too, judging by her startled expression.

The girl said, hurt, "You don't have to be so confrontational about it. Other viewpoints than yours may be valid, you know." She drifted off, no doubt in search of those who walked the night with a more enlightened point of view.

"Nice meeting you . . ." Willow called after her.

Frustrated, Xander frowned at Angel. "You're really a people person."

Willow, in her sweet way, seconded that emotion. "Now nobody's gonna talk to us."

Angel didn't let up. He was really pissed off. "I've seen enough. And I've seen this type before. They're children, making up bedtime stories about friendly vampires to comfort themselves in the dark."

Willow pondered, "Is that so bad? I mean, the dark can get pretty dark. Sometimes you need a story."

Apparently, Angel wasn't feeling like giving points for good intentions. "These people don't know anything about vampires. What they are, how they live, how they dress . . ."

Xander observed, "You know, I love a good diatribe, but I'm still curious why Ford, the bestest friend of the Slayer, is hanging with a bunch of vampire wannabes."

They went up the stairs.

Willow continued, "Something's up with him." To Angel, she offered, "You were right about that."

Sunnydale High School

It was getting pretty late by the time Buffy, Giles, and Ms. Calendar swept into the library.

Buffy said, "Sorry to beep you guys in the middle of stuff, but this did seem a bit weird."

"No, you did the right thing," Giles assured her. "Absolutely."

Ms. Calendar cocked her head at him and drawled, "You hated it that much?"

"No!" he said quickly. "But vampires on campus . . . it can have implications, very grave—"

Ms. Calendar pressed, "You could have said something."

"Honestly," he said sincerely, "I've always been interested in monster trucks. I swear."

Buffy couldn't believe it. "You took him to monster trucks?"

Ms. Calendar shrugged. "I thought it would be a change."

Giles nodded. "It was a change."

"We could have just left," Ms. Calendar pointed out.

"What? And miss the nitro-burning funny cars?" Giles acted very sincere. "Couldn't have that."

"Okay," Buffy interrupted, "could we get back on the vampire tip? These guys were here with a purpose."

"Yes. And we must ascertain what that purpose is," Giles agreed, settling down to business as he led the way to the study table.

"Where's your friend?" Ms. Calendar asked Buffy.

"I sent him home," Buffy replied.

"Good," Giles said. "The less he's mixed up in this, the safer he'll be."

Bragging on Ford's behalf, Buffy announced, "Well, he did bag a vamp his first time out. You got to give him credit for that . . ." She picked something up off the table. "Who's this?"

Ms. Calendar asked, "Is something wrong?"

The photo was faded almost to a complete gray fog. The hair was different, and so was the dress, but the face that peered from it was unmistakable: it was the girl Angel had met in the playground.

"She's called Drusilla," Giles informed her. "A sometime paramour of Spike's. She was killed by an angry mob in Prague."

Buffy said, "Well, they don't make angry mobs like they used to, because this girl's alive." It was humiliating, but she had to say it. "I saw her with Angel."

Giles was surprised. "With Angel?"

"Isn't he supposed to be a good guy?" Ms. Calendar asked.

The implication sank in. Deep. Buffy said quietly, "Yeah. He is."

Ms. Calendar said, "I think we need to read up on this nice lady."

Giles sprang into action. He just loved this kind of stuff. "Well, some of my new volumes might be helpful." He crossed to his office as he said to Buffy and his date, "My own research has—"

Just then a blond vampire bounded out of his office with a thick old book in her hands. She pushed Giles into Buffy. They both tumbled to the floor. Then she leaped first on the table and then to the balcony, disappearing into the stacks. Buffy stared after her as Giles got up.

"You guys okay?" Ms. Calendar asked.

"A book!" Giles cried with indignation. "It took one of my books."

Ms. Calendar said wryly. "Well, at least someone in this school is reading."

Buffy said, half to herself, "He said he killed it." She raised her voice, looking in the direction the vampire had fled. "That's the vampire Ford said he killed."

"He lied?" Giles asked her.

Buffy was adrift. "Why?"

Summers Home

Buffy and Dawn were home alone as Joyce had a late night at the gallery. Buffy was making them cocoa, when Angel appeared at the kitchen door. He said, "Buffy. May I come in?"

Buffy took a moment to compose herself and said, "Sure. I thought once you'd been invited you could always just walk in."

"I can," he replied, walking into the kitchen. "I was being polite."

"Hi, Angel," Dawn said as she smiled at her sister's boyfriend."

"Hi, Dawn," Angel greeted returning Dawn's smile.

Buffy handed her sister one of the warm cups of cocoa then put her hands around the other. She felt cold, down her heart.

He continued looking back at Buffy, in a serious, urgent voice. "We need to talk."

Buffy swallowed. "Do we." She picked up her cup and she headed for the dining room as her sister got up and followed.

"Buffy," Dawn whispered. Her sister usually told her everything. But she could tell that Buffy was hurting and had not told her.

Angel followed the sisters into the room. "It's about your friend, Ford," he said.

Dawn looked at her sister remembering what Buffy had told her of him.

"He's not what he seems," Angel continued.

Buffy looked at him. "Who is these days?" she asked shortly.

Angel was missing, or ignoring, her jibes. "Willow ran him down on the computer."

"Willow?" Buffy said and Dawn could instantly tell that her sister was stung that Willow had invaded Buffy's privacy.

"We found this address. We checked it out with Xander and it turned out to—"

"And Xander?" Buffy echoed. "It surprises me you didn't let Dawn in on this great big, exciting conspiracy." She sat down as Dawn sat next to her. She watched her sister sit down her cup then place her hand on her arm.

Angel paused. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the people I trust." Buffy looked up at him, looked at him hard. "Who's Drusilla?" Angel's face fell as if she had told him of the death of someone close. Though shaken, she refused to give up now. "And don't lie to me. I'm tired of it."

He looked tired, weary, and very sad. "Some lies are necessary."

"For what?" Dawn demanded coming to her sister's defense.

Buffy knew Angel was right, some lies were necessary. "He's right, Dawnie. Some lies are necessary. Just like my being trans. We lie to mom all the time, remember, because it's necessary." She then looked at Angel. "That said, I can take it. I can take the truth."

"Do you love me?" he asked, searching Buffy's face.

Buffy was startled. "What?"

"Do you?"

Buffy's eyes welled. "I love you," she admitted. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"Maybe you shouldn't do either."

"Maybe Buffy's the one who should decide," Dawn said once again coming to her sister's defense.

Angel waited a beat. Then, as if what he would say next would cost him dearly, he began. "I did a lot of unconscionable things when I became a vampire. Drusilla was the worst. She was an…obsession of mine. She was pure and sweet and chaste."

"You made her a vampire," Buffy said slowly, as the awful truth dawned.

"First I made her insane. Killed everyone she loved, visited every mental torture on her I could devise. She eventually fled to a convent and the day she took her holy orders I turned her into a demon."

For a moment neither sister could say a word. They just stared at each other. "Well, I asked for the truth," Buffy said slowly, wondering how to heal after knowing this of him. Wondering if she could still love him.

But Angel looked for no forgiveness. His thoughts were only of primarily Buffy's safety, but Dawn's as well. Since he had met the younger Summers sister, he had come to find her to be a good person that her sister needed desperately in her journey in becoming the woman she was destined to be. "Ford's part of some society that reveres vampires. Practically worships them. I don't know what he wants from you. But you can't trust him."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"Buffy," Dawn said as she leaned out the window of Buffy's bedroom. Her sister sat on the roof staring out into the night sky. "Are you okay?"

"Not, remotely," Buffy admitted sadly.

"Why didn't you tell me about seeing Angel with another girl?" Dawn wondered.

"I don't know," Buffy said looking toward Dawn. "It wasn't to hurt you. You have been the most supportive person I've known since I came out to you. It's just something I had to think over first, you know?"

"I guess so," Dawn said as she climbed out onto the roof and sat next to Buffy. She wrapped an arm around her big sister. "But you know you can always come to me, right?"

"Yes, I do," Buffy said as she leaned her head on Dawn's shoulder. "Thank you, Dawnie, for always being there for me."

November 6, 1997 – Thursday

Sunnydale High School

Buffy's thoughts were crowded with all the things Angel had told her and Dawn the night before.

"Buffy!" Ford cried.

Including the fact that she couldn't trust an old friend.

"Ford," she said, and tried to smile. His own smile seemed predatory, calculated.

"I had a great time last night," he told her. Then he chuckled and said, "Well, an interesting one."

Masking her feelings, Buffy replied, "I'm glad."

"Do you want to go out again tonight?"

She made herself smile. "I'm not busy."

"I sort of had an idea. It's a secret. I kind of want to surprise you."

"I like surprises."

"Can you meet me here?" he asked.

"Sure."

He was pleased. "At nine?"

"At nine."

He bent and whispered in her ear, "It's going to be fun."

Xander and Willow were sitting morosely on the stairway, reminding Buffy of the many times she herself had been sent to the principal's office.

Willow said anxiously, "Hey, Buffy. Did, uh, Angel—"

"He told me and Dawn everything," Buffy could hear the chilliness in her own voice, and wished it wasn't there. Wished there was no reason for it be there.

Willow went on, "I'm sorry we kept stuff from you."

"It's okay," Buffy told her. She almost meant it.

"When Angel came to my room, he was just really concerned for you," Willow told her. "And we didn't want to say anything in case we were wrong."

Dear Willow. Buffy could never stay angry at her. She put her hand on Willow's arm.

Xander said, "Did you find out what Ford is up to?"

"I will," Buffy replied. She left.

Sunset Club

Buffy knew she had to keep her wits about her, but she was hurt and angry as she stopped on the stairs to look down on Ford. Still, she hid it all inside. She had gotten very good at that. "I'm sorry, Ford," she said airily, moving down again. "I just couldn't wait until tonight. I'm rash and impulsive. It's a flaw."

Ford shrugged. "We all have flaws."

"I'm still fuzzy on exactly what yours is." She reached the floor and faced her old friend. "I think it has to do with being a lying scumbag."

"Everybody lies."

"What do you want, Ford? What's this all about?" she asked.

"I really don't think you'd understand."

"I don't need to understand. I just need to know." And she was not requesting information; she was demanding it.

He said, "I'm going to be one of them."

She digested that. "You want to be a vampire."

"I'm going to," he said.

"Vampires are kind of picky about who they change." And then it hit her: "You were going to offer them a trade." She was shocked beyond words. Her old friend had been planning her death. Was going to take her away from her sister.

Ford said, "I don't think I want to talk anymore."

Buffy grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall, hand against his throat. "Well, I still feel awfully chatty. You were going to give them me. Tonight."

"Yes," he said gruffly, his vocal cords constricted by her grip.

"You had to know I'd figure it out, Ford."

Ford smiled. "Actually, I was counting on it." He started laughing, then coughing, then wheezing as he grinned at her.

She stepped back, wary, and let him go. He kept laughing and coughing. It gave her a wiggins. "What's supposed to happen tonight?"

"This is so cool! This is just like it played in my head. The part where you ask me what's supposed to happen—it's already happening."

The big door slammed shut. Immediately Buffy raced up the stairs to it and pulled. She couldn't open it.

There was no doorknob and no other way to open it.

She turned around to face Ford. He was halfway up the stairs, the others grouped around him like some macabre class picture.

"Rigged it up special," he told her. "Once it's closed, it can only be opened from the outside. As soon as the sun sets, they'll be coming."

Buffy appealed to him. "Ford, if these people are still around when they get here—"

The guy in the blue cape said, "We'll be changed, all of us."

"We're going to ascend to a new level of consciousness," the blond bimbo, Chantarelle, explained. "Become like them, like the Lonely Ones."

"This is the end, Buffy." Ford's face was set, determined, his smile a mask. "No one gets out of here alive."

Buffy raced down the stairs, looking for an alternate exit. Ford was on her heels. She said, "There's gotta be a way out of here."

"This is a bomb shelter," Ford told her as she pulled back a black velvet curtain and found a bricked-in doorway. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to overpower you. But this is three feet of solid concrete. Trust me when I say we're here for the long haul."

"At least let the other people go," Buffy said.

"Why are you fighting this?" Chantarelle asked her. "It's what we want."

"It's our chance for immortality," Cape Guy added.

"This is a beautiful day!" Chantarelle went on. "Can't you see that?"

Buffy shot back, "What I can see is that right after the sun goes down, Spike and all of his friends are going to be pigging out at the all-you-can-eat moron bar."

Cape Guy said, "Okay. That's it. I think we should gag her."

Buffy gave him a look possessed only by Slayers. "I think you should try."

Cape Guy persisted, "She's an unbeliever. She taints us."

"I am trying to save you," Buffy insisted. "You're playing in some serious traffic here; do you understand that? You're going to die. And the only hope you have of surviving is to get out of this pit right now and, my God, could you have a dorkier outfit?"

Cape Guy looked hurt.

Ford smiled. "I've got to back her up, D. You look like a big ninny."

A little alarm went off. Ford dug into his pocket and pulled out a pager. He smiled triumphantly.

"Six twenty-seven," he announced. "Sunset."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy was still trying to find a way out. She raced back up the stairs and felt around the knobless door.

Ford said, "Man, you never give up, do you?"

"No, I don't," Buffy replied. "Besides I have someone on the outside waiting on me to come home."

"Who?" he wondered.

"My sister," Buffy admitted. "She's the first person I told I was trans, the first person I told I was the Slayer. She's been by my side ever since. She is the reason that I want to live that I refuse to give up, even when society wants to deny my existence, wants to deny I'm even a girl."

"That's a good quality in a person. Too many people, they just lay back and take it. But us—"

"Us? We have something in common now?" She walked around the balcony. Ford followed her.

"More than you'd think," Ford told her.

"Okay, let me explain something to you," Buffy said, whirling on him. "You're what we call the bad guy."

"I guess I am," he said, as if he hadn't thought of that before, but he liked it nonetheless.

She looked down at his friends in their ruffles and black lipstick, milling around and wondering what was going to happen next. "These people aren't going to get changed, are they? The rest of them, they're just fodder."

"Technically, yes. But I'm in. I will become immortal." He wasn't even ashamed to say it.

She flared. "I've got a newsflash for you, brain-trust. That's not how it works. You die. And a demon sets up shop in your old house. And it walks and talks and remembers your life, but it's not you."

He looked away for a moment, then back at her. "It's better than nothing," Ford said.

Buffy was shocked. "And your life is nothing?" He laughed bitterly. "Ford, these people don't deserve to die. I don't deserve to die."

"Neither do I!" he flung at her. His voice broke. "But apparently nobody took that into consideration, because I'm still dying." She blinked. "I look good, don't I? Let me tell you something. I've got maybe six months left and by then what they bury won't even look like me. It'll be bald and shriveled and it'll smell bad. I'm not going out that way." She turned away. "I'm sorry, Summers. Did I screw up your righteous anger riff? Does the nest of tumors liquefying my brain kind of spoil the fun?"

"I'm sorry." She faced him again, with tears of pity in her eyes. "I had no idea. But what you're doing is still very wrong."

"Okay, well, you try vomiting for twenty-four hours straight because the pain in your head is so intense and then we'll discuss the concept of right and wrong."

"And you try living for twenty-four hours being born in the wrong body," she bit back.

He shrugged off her argument as he gestured toward the others. "These people are sheep. They want to be vampires because they're lonely, or miserable, or bored. I don't have a choice."

"You have a choice. You don't have a good choice, but you have a choice. You're opting for mass murder here and nothing you say to me is going to make that okay."

Ford said, "Do you think I need to justify myself to you?"

Buffy answered, "I think this is all part of your little fantasy drama. Isn't this exactly how you imagined it? You tell me how you've suffered and I feel sorry for you. Well, I do feel sorry for you, and if those vampires come in here and start feeding, I'll kill you myself."

For a moment the ghost of a smile passed over his face, and he was the old Ford again, the manly sixth grader she had moped over for months. He said quietly, "You know what, Summers? I really did miss you."

A car engine hummed. Tires squealed. They were here.

Maybe there was enough of the old Ford still there, she hoped. Just as Angel's soul had been restored, maybe she could appeal to what had been Ford before his illness had changed him. She said, "Ford, help me stop this. Please."

But she saw that the moment was over. He was determined to carry out his plan.

She headed around the balcony and started down the stairs. "People, listen to me," Buffy pleaded. "This is not the mothership, okay? This is ugly death come to play."

Ford hit her, hard, with a crowbar. Buffy clattered down the stairs. She rose, turned, and tried to defend herself as Ford hit her again, sending her sliding.

Chantarelle had not expected violence, and it frightened her. This was not the way she thought it would happen. Yet the Lonely Ones were poised to enter, and so she prepared herself. Slowly she walked up the stairs.

The door swung open. A figure with a horrible face and a shock of white hair stepped in. Others trooped in behind him. He snarled at her and ripped off her red choker. She was terrified of him. The vampire said, "Take them all. Save the Slayer for me!"

As he buried his fangs in her neck, the other vampires charged down the steps and began grabbing Chantarelle's friends. They savagely bit into their necks, feasting.

They were not exalted. This was not a sacred moment. It was a lie. A terrible lie . . .

Ford came around the couch with the crowbar. Coming to, Buffy grabbed the bar, wrenched it free, and slammed Ford headfirst into a pillar. He fell to the floor.

And then Buffy saw the girl.

Spike's girl.

Angel's girl.

Drusilla was standing on the balcony, looking dazed and hungry. Without hesitation, Buffy ran and, pushing off the sofa, jumped onto the balcony. She landed next to Drusilla and grabbed her, whipped out a stake, and placed it directly over the cold, mad girl's heart.

"Spike!" Drusilla cried.

Spike froze. He looked genuinely frightened. He immediately released Chantarelle, who slumped and burst into tears.

"Everybody stop!" Spike yelled.

Everyone did.

"Good idea," Buffy said, keeping the stake firmly pressed against Drusilla's chest. "Now you let everybody out or your girlfriend fits in an ashtray."

"Spike?" Drusilla called anxiously.

"It's going to be all right, baby." He said to his people, "Let them go."

The True Believers flew out of the open door of the Sunset Club like bats out of hell. Cape Guy pushed his way to the front. The last of them stopped to help Chantarelle.

Buffy started toward the door keeping Drusilla close. At the last minute she hurled her down at Spike.

Spike caught his baby as Buffy got to the door and stepped out, slamming it shut behind her.

Buffy stepped out to find the True Believers escaping into the night. Xander, Willow, and Angel had converged just outside the Sunset Club.

Buffy said, "You guys got here just in time."

Willow piped up. "Are there vampires—"

Buffy nodded. "They're contained. They'll get out eventually, though. We should clear out. We can come back when they're gone."

Xander said, "Come back for what?"

Buffy felt anger again, laid over with a deep, heavy sorrow. "For the body," she answered.

November 8, 1997 – Saturday

Restfield Cemetery

Giles and Dawn stood by as Buffy placed roses on the fresh grave of Billy Fordham. Joyce had gone out of town on a buying trip for the gallery and left Dawn in Buffy's care. Which was the only reason Buffy had brought Dawn with her and Giles.

Buffy looked up at Giles. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"You needn't say anything," he replied kindly.

"It'd be simpler if I could just hate him. I think he wanted me to. I think it made it easier for him to be the villain of the piece. Really, he was just scared."

"Yes, I suppose he was," Giles offered.

"Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love, or hate…who to trust. It's just, like the more I know, the more confused I get."

Giles's smile was brief and sad. "I believe that's called growing up."

Dawn moved beside her sister and laid a comforting hand on Buffy's arm. In a little voice, Buffy said, "I'd like to stop then, okay?"

"I know the feeling." His smile spoke of memories he had not yet shared.

"Well, does it ever get easy?" Dawn wondered thinking of her sister and everything that lay before Buffy.

Suddenly Ford burst from his grave, not Ford at all, but a snarling vampire covered with graveyard dirt. As he mindlessly lunged at them Buffy shoved Dawn behind her. Then with one swift strike, she drove a stake into his chest and he exploded into dust.

"You mean life?" Giles asked the younger Summers sister.

"Yeah," Dawn said. "Will it ever get easy, especially for Buffy?"

Giles looked at the sisters for a long moment and then decided the best way to answer Dawn's question was to lie to them. He took on a bright, teacherly tone. "Yes. It's terribly simple."

They started out of the graveyard.

"The good guys are stalwart and true. The bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after."

And the sisters assessed the truth of what he said with one simple word: "Liar."