"William Grieves," he told her, immediately offering out his hand.

She stared at it for a moment before he realized what he was doing.

"Right, then. Forgot about that," he smiled sheepishly.

"This is your apartment?" she asked, uncertain that she could even begin to believe their plight.

"Yes, it is."

"And my store... It's... it's your store?" She asked.

"If you're talking about Buy the Book, then that would also be affirmative."

She shook her head in disbelief.

"And what happened to you? What's with the into-the-mist act?" She wanted to know.

William tried to come up with a good explanation, but couldn't.

"I... I don't rightly know, Love," he told her. "One moment I'm riding my bike to have dinner with the witches, and the next moment, I'm in my living room trying to suss out just which one of us really belongs here."

Buffy gave him a puzzled look. The witches? Dinner? Book store owner?

"You're... Oh my God..." Buffy's eyes went wide as her hand clamped over her mouth. "You're Tara's friend. You were coming to dinner that night that I cancelled. She told me about it the next day. Her friend who owned a shop on Main Street."

William smiled. Now they were getting somewhere. They had a common friend. Only what did she mean by "owned" a shop on Main Street? Why was she talking about him in past tense?

Buffy sensed the change in his body language immediately. He was shuffling. He seemed unnerved.

"William," she said softly. "Don't you remember what happened?"

"Of course, I do," he said a little too brightly. "Tara came in to thank me for a book suggestion and asked me to dinner. I got sidetracked reading Sins of the Father and called to tell her I'd be late."

"And then what?" she asked.

"And then what?" he parroted. "And then what? And then I... I got on my bicycle... And I must have come back home to change. And I saw you sitting here and now I'm even later. Oh dear, I should really call and beg her forgiveness. I'm not usually so rude and I really must-"

"You were hit by a truck when it ran a stop sign at the corner of Main and Margate," Buffy whispered. "You died instantly."

"You're a liar!" he accused. "You break into my home... You... you perform some kind of voodoo to make me think I'm not real and... No. NO! You're lying!"

Buffy watched him tearfully as he continued to point his finger at her in a rage. Her heart broke when the doctors told her that Angel had died. He had been sick for so long that it shouldn't have come as a shock. Yet, the words "I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Connor" had hit her like a lead balloon.

"William," she whispered. "I'm not lying. You know I'm not lying. You remember it."

She knew he did because his face contorted as the memory hit him.

"Then why am I here?"

That was the million dollar question. Why was her there? Was there something he needed to complete before his soul could rest? Neither of them knew the answer. Only the Powers that Be knew that.

"I don't know, Will," she sighed.

"William," he corrected her.

"Yeah… William."

"And your name, Pet? Never got that," he told her.

"Buffy," she said absently. "Buffy Summers-O'Connor."

"For Elizabeth?" he asked.

"For Buffy," she replied.

"Take it your mum had quite the sense of humor," he joked.

She turned to impale him with turbulent green eyes and he stepped back.

"My mum was a wonderful person with a great sense of adventure and you'll be wise to keep your transparent trap shut about her," Buffy threatened.

"Was?" he asked, knowing he'd definitely inserted his foot into his gaping mouth.

"She died," Buffy said softly. "Three years ago. Brain cancer."

"And your husband?" he found himself asking.

She scowled and furiously scrubbed away the tears from her eyes with clenched fists.

"He left me, too," she said, her whisper angry and full of hate. Her eyes flashed up to lock onto his. "The irony of all this just kills me, you know? I pray and pray to die. And I get a ghost instead. Fate is cruel, William."

Her eyes were still fixed on his. The pain in them was soul-deep and appeared to be endless.

"Fate is cruel and God is twisted. He preys on the innocent and turns love to stone," she seethed, her lips barely moving.

William stared at her and suddenly his purpose was clear.

"Have you eaten anything, Buffy?" he asked.

"What?"

She snapped out of her trance and stared at him like he was insane.

"Eaten anything. Sustenance. Food. You've downed a good bit of strong wine. You need to eat," he told her, suddenly concerned for her welfare.

"I'm fine," she lied. "I think I just need some rest. If you'll excuse me..."

"Goodnight, then," he nodded, wishing she wouldn't go.

"I've got to be losing my mind," Buffy muttered, as she splashed her face with cold water. "He can't be real."

She changed into pyjamas and crept back out to the living room. He was gone.

"Will?" She called. "William?"

No response. She lifted the bottle of Port. It was nearly empty. Clearly, she'd had too much to drink and had been hallucinating.

She padded back down the hall to her bedroom and crawled under the covers. She pulled the chain on her table lamp and let out a shaky sigh.

"Oh Angel," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so lonely without you. Now I'm making up a harmless little ghostie man to provide me with conversation. You said you'd never leave me."