The sun filtered in through the serrated curtains. Buffy stretched languidly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her fists. She turned her head to her bedside clock. It was barely 8AM. She threw back the covers and forced herself out of bed.

That was always the hardest part. At first, she'd merely lay there. Sometimes, she'd stay in bed for days. Some of those days turned into weeks and then her sister, Dawn, started coming over and forcing her out of bed and into the world. After awhile, with Dawn came Willow. Then Xander started tagging along. Eventually, they'd managed to force her back into the land of the living if just barely.

The book store had been an impulse buy. Angel had left her a very well-to-do widow. He'd run a profitible detective agency from which she still received a share-holder's check.

She had been walking to the Espresso Pump to meet Willow for some java and conversation when she spied it. On a whim, she called the number from her cell phone and after talking to the realtor, who turned out to be Xander's girlfriend, Anya Jenkins, she realized she could afford the quaint and eclectic shop. And it had given her a purpose in life, once again. She showered and dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of faded jeans, a sweatshirt she'd bought on a trip to Ireland with Angel that bore the Guiness Drought logo and she slipped her feet into a pair of socks and sneakers. She pulled her damp hair into a scrunchie and headed toward the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She was scooping French Roast into the filter basket when she heard the deep rumble of his familiar voice.

"Sleep well, Pet?" He inquired politely.

Buffy jumped, scattering coffee grounds all over the counter and her hand.

"Would have started a fresh pot for you, but," he chuckled, in spite of himself. "Ghostie here."

"Go away, Will," she ground out, hoping that if she didn't turn around, he'd disappear.

"It's William, Love," he reminded her. "We've been through this before."

She closed her eyes tightly and counted to ten. She spun around and scanned the space in front of her for any sign of William. He wasn't there. She let out the breath she'd been holding and turned back to her coffee with a gasp.

"Didn't think you'd be rid of me that easily, did you, Pet?" He tsked. "My work here is far from done."

"What work?" She wanted to know.

What work, indeed. He didn't even know. But something told him he needed her to help him suss it all out. She was busy cleaning up the scattered grounds and finishing the task of making coffee. She pulled a mug with the words "I Gave" emblazoned in red across the front and the Sunnydale Blood Bank logo on the back from the cupboard and poured in a hefty amount of sugar. When the small carafe was full and the coffee had stopped dripping, she filled her mug and stirred it thoroughly.

She tried to ignore William's presence in the room, but it was difficult to do. The more she willed her eyes away, the more they sought out his. Finally, beyond irritation, she grabbed her purse and headed to the door with a loud sigh.

"Don't leave on my account," he called to her.