She had her key in the shop door when she heard him again.

"You know, it's a trick door," he told her when he saw her struggling with the lock. "Just smack it above the deadbolt with the heel of your hand and it will loosen right up."

She chose to ignore him, fiddling with the stubborn lock until, out of anger, she pounded her fist on the door. William watched as she turned the key and then the doorknob. Without a backward glance, she told him not to look so smug. She slammed the door upon entry, not bothering to wait for him to enter behind her.

She shrugged off her parka and hung it on a coat rack behind the antiquated register. She tucked her purse on a shelf near her stool and parked herself for the day. She was three chapters into one hell of a bodice-ripper for Victorian times when she felt his glare.

"Are you going to stand there and stare at me all day," she asked tightly, never removing her eyes from the book in her hand.

"What if I decide to do just that?" He challenged. "Not like you can make me leave."

She snapped her eyes up to his and slammed the book down on the counter. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in a series of numbers.

"Good morning," she said brightly into the phone. "There's a little problem that I need some help with. Can you come over? Of course she can come, too. Thank you."

She snapped the phone shut and smiled triumphantly at William.

"Call up an exorcist, Love?" He teased.

She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Perhaps I did," she told him.

They stood staring at each other for several long moments and then the jingle bells at the shop door clamored.

"Are you okay, Buffy?" Willow asked worriedly.

Her hand was wrapped around Tara's and their cheeks were flushed pink from the cool air outside and the quick manner in which they'd sprinted to Buy the Book.

"I've been seeing someone," Buffy announced calmly.

Willow's face broke into an ecstatic grin.

"Oh, Buffy! That's wonderful!" She gushed, running to hug her friend.

Tara searched Buffy's face over Willow's shoulder and then turned to William. She lifted her hand and glanced it over his ghostly form making him wonder aloud if she could see him.

"Honey," Tara called softly. "I don't think that's what she meant."

Willow slowly pulled away from Buffy and looked to the empty area that held Tara spellbound.

"Oh William," she whispered, her hand smoothing over his arm. "I can feel you."

"He's here?" Willow asked.

"Of course, he's here," Buffy groused. "He refuses to leave and he's just about on my last nerve."

"Shall I remind you just whose book store this is, Pet?" He snapped at her.

She balled her fists and put them angrily on her hips as she stalked over to him.

"I've got an iron-clad lease that says it's mine and you'd best remember that," she snarled at him, accentuating her words with jabs of her finger through his chest.

"By default," he said, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "By bloody default. You act as if I wished to be mowed down whilst I rode my bicycle to Red and Glinda's that night. Wasn't my bloody fault that I was run down!"

"I never said it was!" She shouted back, equally upset. "But now you've insinuated your way into my store, my home and my life! I was just fine without you!"

She was screaming, waving her arms around at the air. To any other bystanders, she would have appeared insane.

"Were you really?" He asked so quietly, he wondered if she even heard him.

Her glare went stony. He didn't know anything about her. He didn't know a thing. All she wanted to do was punch him in his presumptuous nose.

"Get out of my store and get out of my life," she told him, her voice dripping with venom.

She turned to Willow.

"Get him out of here. Exorcise him! Bind him! Turn him to dust and stick him in a mayonaise jar for all I care! Just get him out of my life!" She choked, the sobs catching in her throat.

Willow stared desperately at Tara. Tara was much better at sensing and containing spirits than she was. Tara was still trying to establish where, exactly, William was.

"William, you shouldn't goad her," she scolded him, her eyes blindly raking over him. "If you can't play nice with Buffy, then perhaps you should leave."

"Bloody hell I'll leave!" He told her, knowing quite well that the only one who heard him was Buffy.

"He says he's not going to leave," Buffy sniffled dejectedly.

"What?" He asked, staring at her disappointed face. "I'm such a palsy that you can't stand to have me near?"

"You're DEAD, you idiot! You're not supposed to be here! This is unnatural! This is wrong! You're supposed to be in Heaven or Hell! Not here!" Buffy shouted.

"Being with you is Hell," he retorted. "It's a wonder any one would want to be in your company at all let alone pledge his whole life to you!"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Her face crumpled and she fell to her knees as if she had been mortally wounded. Her green eyes were a watercolor as the tears spilled out of them and onto her cheeks.

"Buffy, I--"

"You've said enough," she managed to grit out at him.

"I believe I have."