TITLE: The Ghost.

AUTHOR: Kelly Rowe

RATING: PG

DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Angel and all other characters (except those I make up) are the absolute property of Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, UPN and Warner Bros (If I owned them, the events of Buffy season 4 or most of season 3 wouldn't have occurred).

SUMMARY: AU. Buffy is a ghost and Angel must help her prove her innocence so she can move onto the next world.

SPOILERS: None.

TIMELINE: 2001.

DISTRIBUTION: You want you can have it; just tell me where you put it.

PAIRING: Buffy/Angel

CATEGORY: AU, mystery and romance.

NOTES: *…* denotes thoughts.

'True love is like a ghost, everybody talks about it but few have seen' ~ Francois Duc Dela Rochefoucald.

1901

It was a cold, dark night. The wind blew around the walls creating a moaning sound and tiny drops of rain tapped endlessly against the windows. In contrast the bedroom was warm, a fire in the hearth and all of the room's lamps were burning. The woman lay in the large bed sprawled exhaustedly against the pillows, cradling a sleeping baby in her arms. Her eyes were wet with tears as she looked at the tiny innocent face of her newborn daughter. It was the first time she'd had alone with her daughter, since giving birth and she'd had to beg the nurse and midwife for it. She placed a loving kiss on the tiny forehead.

"Elizabeth Anne" she murmured, "I love you little one. If only your father…"

She choked on her words as the tears began to fall once again. She was only twenty-three, a widow of three months and had been left with a busy inn to run and a newborn to raise. She wasn't sure how she was going to manage, but she knew that she'd do it somehow. She looked at the portrait of her late husband that hung across from the bed.

"I'll take good care of her Hank" she promised, "I'll raise her to be a strong, honourable and independent woman." She looked down once again at the baby in her arms. "I don't have any magical powers my little one" she whispered, "But if I did, I'd make a wish for you. I'd wish that you find true love… the kind that is pure and lasting like I had, ever so briefly, with Hank. I'd guarantee that you wouldn't leave this earth until you'd found him."

Her words were like a prayer. Suddenly the flames in the fireplace intensified and made Hank's portrait glow. Joyce let out a sob, which in turn cause the baby to stir. She turned her attention back to her daughter, but she didn't forget that moment when it seemed that her wish had been granted.

1926

It was freezing out in the garden and totally dark. No moonlight was shining through the layer of dark clouds that covered the sky. The only light came from the party raging on inside the inn, faint sounds of music and laughter could be heard through the glass. Elizabeth Anne Summers shivered as she steeped out into the night. She hadn't had time to grab her coat because she'd slipped away from the party the first opportunity she'd had. She had desperately needed some time alone; the crowd inside had been suffocating her. Eventually she knew that Riley her fiancé would come looking for her, but until that moment she was content to wander around in the dark. She slowly wandered down the path, unhindered by the darkness. She'd been born here at the inn, had spent everyday of her life here. She loved the place with intensity that few if any could understand… especially Riley. Deep down she knew that she could do so much better than Riley Finn, an insipid young banker, but she was fond of him and thought that he'd make a good husband and father. She'd just grown so tired of waiting for the mythical true love her mother had talked about so often, she was now twenty-five and had, had few other offers to choose from. She wanted a family of her own and felt that she couldn't afford to wait any longer. The inn was behind her in the distance, the sounds of her birthday party muted. She slowly wandered her grounds, her legacy from a father she'd never known and a mother that she'd adored. She noticed that a light was on in the abandoned caretaker's cottage and she saw three men standing in front of it. A lantern shone on one of the men's faces and she gasped in relief, it was Xander Harris, a long time friend of the family and the local constable.

She moved forward and said, "Xander? What are you…"

A flash of light, accompanied by a loud noise came from the direction of one of the men in the shadows, near Xander. The impact caught her in the chest, throwing her backward onto the cold, hard ground. Two angry shouts erupted, followed by a second shot and a distant thud. She had become oblivious to the pain in her chest and the chaos going on around her, all she could feel… was aware of was the layers of darkness that seemed to be wrapping around her. She tired to move but couldn't and before she could try again all her energy seemed to be drained and the darkness swallowed her whole.

2001

Angel O'Connell, new owner and proprietor of the soon to be restored Summers inn, didn't believe in ghosts, so he found it really annoying when he saw one less than an hour after he moved in. He was standing in the centre of the attic, looking over all of the junk, when he looked up and saw her standing in the corner watching him. Angel blinked he was absolutely certain that the corner had been empty. Now a slender woman in a white old-fashioned dress occupied it, her hair was long and blonde, crimped into waves that framed her face. She had large hazel eyes, flawless skin and an air of old world innocence about her. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. He couldn't believe he was seeing her at all. He rubbed his eyes thinking that she was some trick of light or a hallucination brought on by hunger, but when he opened them again she was still there, looking at him and frowning. He decided that she must be a trespasser who'd snuck inside without him noticing, so he opened his mouth to demand an explanation… and quickly closed it again when he realised that he could see through her. Deciding that he was hallucinating he headed to the stairs.

"Uncle Rupert?" he called out as he headed down them. "Hey Uncle Rupert? Let's go into town and grab some lunch, okay?"

Elizabeth bounced up and down in excitement. *I think he saw me, * she thought to herself. *It was funny though* she mused as she gazed at the now abandoned staircase, *I got the strangest feeling when he looked at me… like I might've been able to speak to him if I'd tried*. She was aware that that there was some sort of invisible barrier that separated her from the living. Rarely had it lowered even enough for some one to see her and those times the contact had been very quick and unsatisfying, but this time it had felt different. *Maybe I should've tried to say something…* she thought suddenly. Frustrated she grimaced, *Maybe he's the one who's supposed to help me… If I can find a way to communicate…* She looked towards the stairs again and began to plot her next meeting with the strange man.

Twenty minutes later, Angel stepped out of his car and took in a quick glance at his new hometown, Sunnydale. He and his uncle entered the Espresso Pump, the only place besides Happy Burger that they saw fit to eat in. They took a seat and waited for the waitress to come and take their order.

"I'm starving " his Uncle Rupert Giles said, "Remind me that we need to pick up grocery's or we'll be starving tonight."

"Sure" Angel said smiling at him. He was definitely eccentric looking, with his tweed suits and glasses, but underneath all that was a sharp mind with a kooky interest in the paranormal.

Giles took his attention away from his nephew and said, "They've decorated for Valentine's day already… my word it'll be here before we know it."

"So?"

Giles sighed; sometimes his nephew was so exasperating. "So… you should spend it with someone special" Giles told him.

Angel smiled, "I am… you."

"I'm taking about a relationship. Just because your marriage failed, it doesn't mean you give up. You can try again, you're only twenty-eight…"

"Uncle Rupert, don't start."

Giles sighed again, "I can't help it. I've always loved Valentine's day… Jenny never let one pass without a fuss."

"Either did Darla" Angel commented dryly. "It always ended up costing me a small fortune. Not because I wanted to spend it on her, but because if I didn't get her exactly what she wanted, she'd sulk for a month."

"She really burned you, didn't she?" Giles said sadly.

Angel was relieved when the waitress appeared and he could turn the conversation away from the shrew he'd once been married to.

They were almost done with their meal, when a short, badly dressed man stopped at their table. "Yer must be the new owners of the inn."

"Yes. I'm Rupert Giles and this is my nephew Angel O'Connell. He's the owner, I'm just the hired help" Giles told the stranger.

The man smiled, "Nice to meet yer. I'm Doyle, owner, publisher and editor of the Sunnydale Daily. Welcome to town."

"Thanks" Angel told him, "Sign me up for a subscription. I'll want to know all of the news."

Doyle's smile grew, "I cover all the major events. Just this mornin' I was invited to cover the elementary school's Valentine's Day pageant. A hundred of our youngest and finest plan to recite poetry and mangle… er… perform love songs. Why don't yer come?"

Angel barely managed not to shudder, "Sounds great. I'll check my calendar."

Doyle laughed, "Any kiddies to add to the local talent pool?"

"Nope… not married" Angel said.

"Me either" Doyle admitted, "And its times like this that remind me why." Angel smiled and Doyle continued, "Hey, do yer mind if I interview yer sometime? Once you've settled in."

"Why? I'm certainly not interesting."

Sure yer are… at least accordin' to the local realtor," Doyle said smiling cheekily. "How do yer feel about ghosts?"

Angel paled, "Ghosts?"

"Yer were told that the inn is haunted, weren't yer? It's a local legend."

"I think it was mentioned" Angel admitted, "I wasn't interested."

His uncle stared at him, "You knew there was a ghost and you didn't tell me?"

Doyle suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Sorry" he said, "I thought yer knew. I assure yer, it's only…"

"Wouldn't it be fascinating to see a ghost?" Giles interrupted, "Plus it will be good for business."

Angel rolled his eyes, "I want people to come to the inn because of the atmosphere. I don't want or need a mob of new aged ghost-groupies camping out front."

"Ghost-groupies… I like it" Doyle laughed.

"I don't" Angel muttered, "I don't believe in ghosts." He shoved aside the thoughts of the woman from before. A hunger hallucination he reminded himself.

"Well, I gotta go" Doyle said excusing himself, "I'll call yer about the interview."

"Sure." Just after Doyle departed another man approached them.

"Hello" he said, "I'm Mayor Richard Wilkins. Welcome to Sunnydale."

Angel shook the offered hand, "Thanks. I'm Angel O'Connell and this is my Uncle, Rupert Giles."

"I hope you don't mind, but I overheard the conversation you had with Mr Doyle" the mayor said somewhat distastefully. "I hope that you don't take this ghost non-sense seriously."

"No. I don't believe in ghosts and I don't intend to use the legend to attract clientele" Angel told him firmly.

"Good. Nice to have met you" the mayor said walking off.

Angel stared at the mayor's retreating form and asked his uncle, "Why did I move here?"

"Darla."

"Figures" Angel muttered under his breath, "She drives me so nuts I move to a town full of them."

Later Angel was exploring the grounds; he was approaching an old cottage, when something made him stop. It wasn't cold out but he felt cold through to the bone. Instinctively he moved back and the coldness disappeared. Frowning he moved forward once again and he felt the coldness on the exact same spot. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he reluctantly turned around. The woman was standing right behind him, so close that he could almost touch her.

"I" he told her stupidly, "Don't believe in ghosts."

She smiled and her mouth moved, but no sound came out… at least any that he could hear.

"I am not crazy," he said emphatically. She shook her head her expression was reassuring. He wasn't reassured. "This is nuts" he said his eyes never leaving her face. "It's a joke right… Some twisted welcome to town? Who are you?"

A look of sympathy crossed her face, overriding a look that had been one of exasperation. Angel couldn't believe it, now his hallucinations were feeling sorry for him. "Look, I'll make this easy" he told her, "I'll turn my back and when I turn around again, the ghost will be gone, okay?"

Her lips moved and he thought he heard her say "Wait." He turned away and counted to fifty and then turned back to find the woman gone.

Exhaling in relief, he muttered, "Welcome to Sunnydale…Home of ghosts and Fruitcakes." He then headed back inside, trying to put the blond behind him.

Angel and Giles had just finished dinner when the doorbell rang and Angel, seeking a distraction, rushed to answer it. He opened the door and was surprised (to say the least) to see his real estate agent standing there.

"Miss Lockley… come in," Angel said politely, wondering what she was doing here.

"Hi" Kate said, "I bought you and your uncle dessert to celebrate your first night here."

"Wow… that's nice of you" Angel said taking the dish she held out. He wondered what the heck he was supposed to do with it… and her. As so not to be rude he showed her into the dining room and asked her to sit down.

After she sat down she said to them, "I heard you both met our mayor today." Angel stared at Kate in shock and wondered what was going on, how she knew. Reading his expression, Kate shrugged. "Word gets around" she explained, "You can't sneeze here in Sunnydale without everyone knowing."

Angel winced, he'd heard about small-town gossip but had never before been the subject of it.

"Well… what did you think of him?" Kate asked them.

Giles answered her, "He seems pleasant… but a little too aware of whom he is."

Kate laughed somewhat evilly, "If you think he's bad… wait until you meet his mommy. The mayor thinks he's in charge, but the entire town knows that she really runs things."

"Why does everyone support him?" Angel asked wondering if he'd moved to a town filled with morons.

"Habit" Kate told him. "His great-granddaddy was the second husband of Joyce Summers, so the Wilkins' practically own this town." Kate looked at Angel, "And they really hate the ghost story."

Angel groaned not only didn't he believe in ghosts but also because of the sick joke being played on him he was already sick of this ghost crap. As if she sensed his annoyance she said, "I did tell you that the inn was haunted."

Angel nodded, "You told me. I just don't believe in ghosts."

Giles dismissed his nephew. "I'm interested" he assured Kate, "I'd love to hear about it."

Kate was hesitant; "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"Nonsense" Giles said, "Please tell me."

Kate settled comfortably in her chair and started her story. "Elizabeth Summers was supposedly obsessed with the well-being of this inn, just like her mother before her. She was so attached that it was rumoured that she was involved with bootlegging… maybe even murder, just to make money to do up the inn."

Angel felt a chill rush down his spine, like the cold he'd felt earlier in the garden. He shifted in his seat, telling himself he was being a total idiot.

"Who did she murder?" Giles asked.

"A law officer. The body was found less than a mile from here and two weeks later she was killed while meeting a bootlegger" Kate said.

"When did she die?" Giles asked. His eyes were alive with excitement at the thought of co-habiting with a ghost.

"February 14, 1926" Kate recited, "Valentines Day and her birthday. She was killed during the cross-fire between the bootlegger and Xander Harris, the constable."

"That's awful" Giles whispered.

Angel squirmed in his seat, wondering why no one else realised just how cold the room had gotten.

Kate leaned in closer to Giles; "You know that old cottage out back? That's where it happened."

Angel's stomach flopped as he remembered the cold spot in the garden. Again he saw in his mind the beautiful blond who'd looked at him so… hauntedly. He asked Kate, "You said that people… have seen her?"

"A few" Kate admitted.

"She died seventy-five years ago next month" Giles murmured. "Maybe I'll get to see her."

Kate shivered, "Don't even joke about that."

"I just hope that no one decides to help us see her," Angel added.

Kate stared at Angel; "No one around here would do that. It's too… mean."

Kate didn't stay much longer, nor did Angel encourage her too. He walked her to the door, said goodnight and locked the door behind her and sighed in relief, that he and his uncle were finally alone. A few minutes later they both headed to bed.

"Goodnight" Giles said.

"'Night Uncle Rupert… sleep well." Once he was sure that Giles was all right, he headed to his own room, to sleep… he really needed to sleep.

Something woke Angel up in the middle of the night. It wasn't quite a feeling, but something… That's when he saw her standing in the corner of his bedroom, among the shadows. She was still wearing the white dress and she looked like she desperately needed something from him. Her lips moved and this time he thought he could hear her. Her voice was like a faint whisper.

"Lies" she said, "Everything she told you… lies. I didn't… it wasn't… Oh damnation." Her form shimmered and Angel rubbed his eyes - still groggy and disbelieving. Her voice seemed to drop lower, a bare hint of sound. "Help me," she whispered with a hint of demand, "Please… help me…"

And she disappeared. Angel shook his head trying to clear it. Then looked back at the now empty corner, trying to decide whether he was nuts or if Kate had spiked his coffee. He fell back on his bed, stared at the ceiling now wide-awake. He forced his eyes closed and tried to fall back to sleep, but he kept hearing that voice whisper, "Please… help me."

Elizabeth stamped her foot as she glared at the man lying in the bed, pretending to sleep. He didn't hear her, just like he hadn't heard anything she'd tried to say since he'd lain down. There had to be a reason that he kept seeing her. She didn't know what it was, but she was more and more certain each time she tried to contact him that this man was special. No one had ever seen her more than once; no one else had seemed affected by her appearance… even though he wouldn't even admit to himself that he was seeing her. But she'd known from the first moment that their eyes had met that the key to her freedom was within this man's grasp. She'd been there in the dining room, heard the lies that woman… that bleached-blond scandalmonger… had told. She'd heard the story before, countless times. Unseen and unheard, she'd listened to others as they talked about it, reinforcing the lies that Xander Harris had told about that night. Every time she'd heard it she'd been furious that no one knew the truth, but hearing that woman spread the lie to Angel, Elizabeth was angrier than ever. She had to convince him that the story was wrong, that she'd been murdered and maligned since. If Angel could help her, if he could clear her name… identify the killer, then she'd be free. If only she could make him understand. Elizabeth drifted closer to the bed, looking at the bare-chested man under the covers. His eyes were closed his breathing deep and even.

She reached out to touch him, "Angel? Angel, can you hear me?"

Suddenly she felt the pull, the force that would take her away to that silent, empty place where she'd drift alone until she could return again… whenever that would be. She looked one last time at him, wondering if he'd still be here when she came back or if he'd be history by then. Somehow, she thought he'd be here.

To Angel's relief he didn't see the blond woman again… for the next few days anyway. Work began on the renovations and the inn became a madhouse of activity. He and his uncle were welcomed by the townsfolk and invited to join clubs, churches and Angel was scouted as a potential coach for the little league. He was invited to go fishing, but he said he wasn't into sports. When he was asked what he was into… he couldn't answer. The sad truth was he hadn't had any spare time before, his whole existence had been climbing the corporate ladder. He met more and more people as he went into town for supplies and to run errands. Each time he found himself looking at the new people, trying to spot the blond. But so far he hadn't seen the blond woman with the hazel eyes and the face that made his heart pound… and not from a fear of ghosts. Who was she? Would he ever see her again? He kept telling himself that he was only curious and not at all attracted to her. He also spent a lot of time with Doyle; Angel liked the guy and believed that he'd found his first true friend.

About a week after they'd moved in, Angel was disturbed from his nap by his uncle yelling, it was disturbing because Giles never yelled.

"Angel? You'll never believe it."

"What?" Angel asked rushing over to the stairs as his uncle came down them.

"Look what I found" he replied showing his nephew.

Angel took the old frame from his uncle unenthusiastically. He glanced down at the black and white photograph and saw nothing extraordinary, it was old and faded and it showed a young woman posed in front of the inn. Then he looked more closely and his knees nearly gave way… it was her! It was the woman from the attic, the garden and his bedroom. There was no way that he was mistaken about the identity, she was unforgettable. Her glossy blond hair was loose framing her face. Even in this faded photograph, he could sense her sparkle, her uniqueness. Her eyes gleamed with life, just like the times he had seen her.

"Angel?" Giles asked concerned, "Are you okay?"

"Sorry… just distracted" Angel replied staring at the photo.

"It's her isn't it? I've found the only photo of her," Giles said excitedly.

"It could be" Angel admitted choking the words out.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

For a moment Angel considered telling him. About the attic, about the plea and all of it in-between. He decided that he wasn't ready to talk about it. "I'm fine" he told him.

He handed his uncle back the photo with reluctance. He was aware of his uncle watching him with a mixture of bewilderment and concern as he left the room.

Angel hardly touched his dinner later. He was too restless to read or watch TV and knowing he'd never get to sleep, he made excuses to his uncle and went into the garden, where he paced, muttered and tried to figure out what was going on. He still hadn't abandoned the joke theory, even after seeing the photo. He turned and paced away from the inn, he walked for a while enjoying his time alone… and suddenly he wasn't.

"Hell" He muttered when she appeared.

She cocked her eyebrow. "A gentleman does not curse in front of a lady" she told him and this time he heard her loud and clear.

"Great" Angel grumbled, "Now my hallucinations are telling me off."

She laughed at him; "You still think you're hallucinating. At least you can hear me now."

Angel stared at her; she looked like she'd just stepped out of that photograph. "Who are you?' he asked moving a little closer to her.

"Elizabeth Anne Summers" she replied.

"Bull." Her eyebrows drew downward.

"You shouldn't talk like that… it isn't proper" she scolded him.

"Yeah well… neither is pretending to be a ghost," Angel retorted. "Did you think it would be funny to see me scream? If so, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

She shook her head," I didn't think you'd scream, you're not a coward."

"And how do you know? Have you seen much of me?" he mocked.

He could've sworn that he saw her blush. Even further proof that she wasn't who she claimed to be. He doubted that ghosts, if they existed, would blush.

"I tried to stay away from your room, but I really need to talk to you" she explained apologetically. "It was an accident that I saw… I saw you naked earlier. I turned away and I really didn't see anything… except that cute little birthmark on your… Sorry, I babble when I'm nervous."

How had she known about the birthmark? He'd spent most of his life trying to hide it from everyone. He'd had all that he could take, his temper was about to explode, so he grabbed her wrist and froze. The woman might have looked real enough, but Angel knew from the moment he'd touched her that his entire world, every belief that he'd ever held, had been irrevocably changed.

It was a strange feeling, like holding marble; her skin was just so unnaturally cool and smooth. She just stood there, watching him with surprise as he reached up to touch her face. She didn't flinch when he touched her cheek, or when he slid his finger down to her throat, right to where her pulse should've throbbed. Somehow through his confusion he managed to squeak, "Who are you?"

"I already told you" she said, "I'm Elizabeth Anne Summers."

"You can't be… she died 75 years ago."

He saw her hazel eyes sadden, "Yes."

"Then…"

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, "I guess you could call me a ghost."

"I don't…"

"Believe in ghosts" she said finishing his sentence. "I know I heard you. But as you can see… and feel, I'm here. It's strange, no one has ever been able to touch me."

"This is nuts" Angel muttered.

She ignored his comment, "I think you can help me."

"Help you?"

"I think I'm still here because of those lies that everyone believe. None of it's actually true. I am not a bootlegger or murderer and I didn't die in any shootout. Xander lied."

"Even if that's true, what in hell am I supposed to do about it?" Angel asked her.

She looked him in the eye, "Prove it."

Angel snorted in disbelief, "Yeah right."

"I'm serious. You have to help me prove my innocence."

"I wouldn't know where to start. And anyway…" he added lamely, "I'm busy… I have my life to live."

Anger flared in her eyes. "At least you have a life" she snapped. "I… oh damnation."

One second he was holding her wrist and the next he wasn't. She'd moved a few feet away and as he watched she grew fainter. Her voice sounded far away.

"Angel, you have to help me. You're the only one who can."

"Wait" he said moving towards her, "I…"

But she'd disappeared. His heart was pounding uncontrollably, his skin damp and his mind a whirl of doubt and wonder. Maybe moving to a town of fruitcakes hadn't been such a good idea.

The offices of the Sunnydale Daily were the most disgusting that Angel had ever seen. He moved his eyes past the horrific décor and looked for Doyle, who he spotted sleeping at a desk in back.

"Hey Doyle" he said loudly.

"Angel?" he awoke confused. "Oh, hey. What I can I do for yer?"

"Um… actually I wanted… to do some research on the inn's ghost" Angel explained. "Uncle Rupert convinced me that some of the guests might want to know…"

"I get it. Yer know, I did some research on it" Doyle confessed. "When I first got 'ere, I thought that it would make a good book. Then stuff happened and I had to focus on me paper."

"Oh" was all Angel said.

"Tell yer what. I'll give yer me notes and let yer look at the old papers and stuff. In return… I'd like to hear anything interestin'" Doyle bargained.

Angel thought it over a for a second, "If I find anything conclusive, I'll talk it over with you."

Doyle laughed, "Very carefully worded. I like yer style O'Connell."

Angel smiled, "I'd better get back. My uncle made me hire a decorator and God knows what they'll come up with if I'm not there when the meeting starts."

"I'll drop my notes by later."

"Thanks Doyle."

"Sure… yer know this could get interestin'."

Angel wondered what his friend would say if he knew just how interesting it was already.

Angel was seated at the kitchen counter, trying too at least pretend to be interested in the fabric and wallpaper samples in front of him. His uncle was not having the same problem, he sat there paying complete attention to everything Mrs. Ross, the decorator, told him. She was slowly driving Angel crazy with her vision of the inn's true potential.

"We could use this striped print… in saffron" she droned on smugly.

"No way, absolutely not. I hate yellow." The voice came from next to him, so close it caused him to jump, scattering samples across the room. When he looked behind him, he saw Elizabeth standing there with a cheeky smile on her face. "This is getting easier" she told him, "I mean talking to you and not scaring you."

Angel couldn't believe that she'd appeared in front of everyone. "What are you…"

"Angel?" his uncle asked, "What's wrong?"

He didn't take his eyes off of Elizabeth, who was just standing there. "She's…"

"Mr. O'Connell, if you do not like the colour scheme I am sure you can pick another colour" Mrs. Ross said sounding annoyed.

Angel was amazed that no one was reacting, after all a ghost had just appeared in front of them. "Uncle Rupert, can't you see…" Angel's voice faded.

"I don't think they can see me," Elizabeth added helpfully.

"I don't like the colour either, but that's no excuse to be rude" Giles told him.

Meanwhile Elizabeth was examining the samples and she was making it obvious that she didn't like what she saw. "Is this all of them? Please, even in my day these were dated."

"I can't do this now" Angel told her through clenched teeth, "Can't you see I'm busy."

"Angel… you were the one who picked the time for this appointment" Giles said ashamed of his nephew's rude behaviour.

Mrs. Ross was definitely offended; "I also have a busy schedule."

"But…"

"The workmen are gone, what do you have to do?" his uncle said with a look that said 'if you were younger I'd spank you.'

Angel looked helplessly at his uncle, "I…"

"Hey, I like this bird one" Elizabeth said interrupting him, "But how about red instead of yellow?"

How could they not see her? She looked so real, he was sure that he could touch her again if he tried. "I'm sorry" he apologised to his uncle and the decorator, "My mind was on something else."

"So you do want to continue?" Mrs. Ross asked him. The woman looked torn between walking out in a huff or staying for the money.

"Sure" he said trying to fake enthusiasm. "How about the bird one? With maybe red instead of yellow? I… uh… like red."

Elizabeth smiled in satisfaction over getting her own way. Mrs. Ross seemed put out, "I suppose that might work."

"No yellow" Elizabeth reminded him.

"No yellow" Angel repeated.

"No yellow" Mrs. Ross agreed reluctantly.

Elizabeth seemed pleased with herself, "How much longer? I really need to talk to you."

Angel stared at her; "Must it be now?"

"No we don't have to decide right now," Giles said exasperated.

"I… uh… okay."

About ten minutes later Mrs. Ross left and Giles decided to talk with his nephew. "You were extremely rude."

Elizabeth added her opinion, "I didn't like her anyway. She was trying to vandalise my inn."

Angel glared at her; "It's *my* inn."

"I'm aware of that" Giles said hurt, "I was only trying to help."

"Uncle Rupert, I'm sorry," he said trying to undo the damage. "I'm just not myself today."

"Are you okay?" Giles asked, switching into concerned uncle mode.

"I'm okay" Angel assured him, "Maybe I need to lie down for awhile."

"Great" Elizabeth said, "I'll meet you there."

Angel watched as she vanished. He hung around downstairs until he was sure that his uncle had forgiven him and then he headed upstairs to yell at a bothersome, much too attractive ghost.

She was waiting for him when he stormed into the room. She was sitting on his bed and seemed somewhat amused at the fact that he was angry with her. Actually his anger didn't bother her at all, in fact she took a perverse pleasure in making him feel that way. If she made him feel he'd have a hard time denying her existence.

"I thought that woman would never leave" she said a moment later.

Angel's eyes narrowed, his voice was quiet but his tone was one that expected to be obeyed. "Don't you ever do that to me again" he ordered.

She never obeyed an order when she was alive and wasn't going to start now. She simply looked at him and said, "How do you plan to stop me?"

Angel hesitated, and then since he couldn't answer her he ignored the question. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

Elizabeth smiled, "I wanted to ask if you'd made any progress."

Angel scowled at her, "You only asked me yesterday, I haven't had time to find anything."

"Only yesterday?" she winced, "Sorry I kind of lose track of time… it seemed like longer."

"Where do you go?" he asked curiously, "I mean… do you hang around here?"

She wrinkled her nose, uncomfortable about this topic of conversation. She didn't like to think of herself as a ghost, when she didn't feel any different than she did when she was alive. "Sometimes… but mostly it's somewhere else. It's grey, cold and strange… and I'm all alone there. I think that I'll finally leave that place once you prove my innocence."

"How long can you stay here?"

"I don't know" she told him honestly, "It's different each time."

Angel sat down next to her on the bed, "Elizabeth…"

"Buffy" she corrected with a small smile, "My friends call... called me Buffy."

"Buffy" he repeated looking at her, "You're beautiful." The words startled him, he hadn't meant to say them out loud.

Her smile deepened and she blushed. "Thank you. It's been a long… an extremely long time since I've heard that." That was when she suddenly realised how odd this whole situation was. She was talking to a man… years younger and alive. It was pointless to flirt, or be flattered by a compliment, or to spend an unlimited amount of time thinking about kissing him. She needed him, but just because he could help her to escape the greyness. There couldn't be anything else between them. "You didn't find anything?' she said changing the subject.

"No" he answered. He saw the disappointment on her face and added, "I did ask some questions at the newspaper office. The editor said he'd help me research."

Buffy was ecstatic; he was going to help. "Angel, that's great! When can you start?"

He held up his hand, "Don't rush me! I've got a lot going on right now. And I never really agreed to help."

Buffy's smile faded, "I know. You have a life to live."

He winced, "Sorry about that."

She brushed aside his apology. "Never mind, I'm glad you're renovating. Just no yellow."

Angel smiled at her, "I think you mentioned that."

Buffy looked at him, "Promise me…" She felt the pulling sensation that occurred before the greyness.

"What?"

"I have to go" she told him.

"What did you want me to promise?"

"Take care of my home" she said.

Angel was surprised, expecting something to do with the favour she'd asked. "I will" he told her, "It's my home too."

"Thank you" she whispered.

"You're…" Angel started but she disappeared. He looked beside him and saw no evidence that she'd ever been there. He sat there for a very long time, thinking of a young woman with hazel eyes and a smile that made him wish things were different.

It was Giles who convinced Angel to attend the library dedication ceremony the next afternoon. He'd heard that most of the town was going to be there and kept telling Angel that it was a good opportunity to meet the locals. Although Angel really didn't want to go, he agreed because Giles really wanted too. After all the hard work and the whole decorating thing, how could he refuse him? When they arrived Angel found out that Giles' estimation of the amount of people there was correct, probably because there wasn't much else to do around there. Angel was immediately introduced to Shirley Adams-Wilkins, the mayor's mother, who was the most condescending woman ever born. He was forced to spend almost an hour in her company, while she droned on and on about civic pride and her family's illustrious history in the town.

Eventually he managed to escape and found a nice, quiet corner to hide in. He managed to have a total of two minutes of piece and quiet before he was disturbed.

"Interestin' woman isn't she?" Angel turned around, recognising Doyle's voice.

"No comment. You covering the big event?" he asked his friend smiling.

"Of course. This is front page news… the opening of the 'St. Charles' library."

Angel laughed. He'd heard Shirley Adams-Wilkins talk about her father before, after and during the dedication speech and understood Doyle's irony. Angel had almost hurled at her effusive praise of her late and supposedly great father.

"I found the notes I promised yer" Doyle said, "I'll bring them around tomorrow."

"Sure. Why don't you stay for dinner after?"

"Thanks. If it's no trouble."

"Nope, Uncle Rupert loves to entertain" Angel told him.

A chubby man walked past then and Doyle grabbed him. "Angel, this is RJ Finn. RJ tell Angel your connection to the ghost."

"My grandfather Riley Finn, was engaged to Elizabeth Summers when she died" RJ Replied.

Angel felt something-heavy settles in the pit of his stomach. "Engaged?" he repeated.

RJ nodded, "They announced it the night she died. Grandpa married Grammy Harmony a couple of years later, but he never got over his Elizabeth."

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Kate Lockley. "Angel, why are you hiding over here?" she asked moving instantly to his side.

After ten seconds Doyle and RJ, who left him to Kate the barracuda, as Kate started to talk about herself his mind wandered. It wandered to the new information he'd just received… information he didn't want to know.

It was well after midnight when Angel and Giles returned to the inn. They both headed to their respective bedrooms, in his Angel found Buffy waiting.

"Where have you been?" she demanded as soon as he walked in.

"That" Angel told her as he unbuttoned his shirt, "Is none of your business." He took his shirt off and threw it over a chair.

Buffy was shocked by his bluntness and by his bare chest, "Is something wrong?"

"No" he said sitting on the bed.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes… no." He ran his hand through his hair wishing he knew what he wanted where Buffy was concerned. The only thing he knew for sure were that his feelings were getting more and more confusing and that every time he saw her he was more aware of her. In fact there were parts of him that really didn't seem to understand how inaccessible she was.

She sat down next to him; "You look tired."

"Yeah, I guess I am." He took a deep breath and looked at her, "I spent the day at the library dedication. Shirley Adams-Wilkins gave a long boring speech."

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, "Charlie's daughter?"

Angel nodded, "How did you…"

"Charles Adams was my step-brother" she told him. "His father, George, married my mother when I was ten."

"I didn't know."

"I guess no one wants to be connected to me," she said sadly. "You know I can remember when Shirley was born."

"So you've been around since…"

"Since I died. On and off" she told him.

"Can you leave the inn? Go into town?" Angel asked curiously.

Buffy shook her head, "I tried to once, but I ended up back in the grey area."

"Oh."

"So did you find out anything new?" she asked.

"Not really. I met a man called RJ Finn. Riley's grandson" he said watching for Buffy's reaction.

"Riley has a grandson?" Angel nodded, "RJ talked about his grandfather and his grandmother Harmony."

"Harmony? Harmony Kendall? Riley married her?"

"I don't know her last name."

Buffy snorted, "That witch always did have a thing for him."

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better he apparently never got over you" Angel told her.

Buffy smiled at that and forgot her tirade. "How sweet?"

"Yeah, sweet" Angel repeated really wishing that this Riley guy was around so he pound his face in.

Buffy changed the subject when she saw the look in Angel's eyes. "Anything else?"

"No. Doyle… he's the editor of the paper…said most people believed the official story."

"I heard the story that your bleached-blond friend told" Buffy said scornfully.

"So then, Harris lied. He was actually the one involved with the bootlegger and he used you a scapegoat," reminding himself of the information Buffy had told him.

"Exactly. It was Xander and the bootlegger meeting a third man. He's the one who shot me" she told him.

"But the bootlegger was also killed" Angel reminded her.

"Maybe he was causing them some trouble, or they didn't want a witness" Buffy suggested.

"Any ideas who the third man could be?"

She threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't know… if I did I'd tell you. Someone murdered me and Xander Harris, my so-called friend, lied to protect him."

"Wasn't there any witnesses from the party?"

"I don't know," she said trying to control her temper. "By the time I'd finally returned everything was over… everyone believed the lies. Ever since then I've been determined to clear my name and you're just the one to help me."

Angel rubbed his hand over his face, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this mess. "Why are you so sure I'm the one to help you?"

"I have a feeling," she said simply. "Besides there has to be a reason that you can see me and others can't. There has to be a purpose."

"I'm not as sure as you. Even if I could prove your innocence, which by the way is a very long shot by the way, who would care?"

"I care. Why else would I be here?"

Angel cleared his throat, "Where's the bootlegger then? Wasn't he murdered too? Why didn't he come back with you?"

"I just figured it was because he was guilty of his crimes. There wasn't any reason to clear his name."

Unfortunately that reason sounded logical to Angel. "All right… tell me in your own words what happened that night."

Buffy started at the beginning and told him everything that she could remember.

"You never saw the third man's face?"

"No" she said, "I do have my suspicions…"

"George?"

"No. The inn or money never meant anything to my step-father" Buffy said, "He had no reason."

"What about Charles?"

"I barely knew Charlie. Why would he want to kill me?"

Angel ran out of ideas.

Buffy patted him on the arm, "You know I really do appreciate your help. You don't have any obligation to me… you're a special man, Angel O'Connell."

Her touch startled him; it still amazed him that she could touch him. Even though it was an odd feeling of cold, like there was something physically between them. He was aware that they were alone in his room and that there were a million butterflies racing in his stomach. It was just his luck that the only woman to make him feel like this, didn't have a pulse.

Buffy looked down at where she was touching him; "I can't feel you, not really"

"Same here."

"I have to go now" she told him.

"But you'll be back?" he asked unable to even think about the fact that she might not return.

She smiled at him, "Poor Angel. You had no idea what you were getting into when you bought my inn, did you?"

Angel smiled back, "Not exactly."

"You must be sorry you ever met me."

"No, I'm not" he told her seriously as she faded from view. It was suddenly very quiet in the bedroom, he lay on his bed and fantasised about the one thing he could never have.

Angel was working in the garden at the back of the inn the next morning, when he heard a voice come from behind him say, "Excuse me." Angel whirled around in anticipation of seeing Buffy and was disappointed to find that it was some strange woman instead. The woman was young about 22 or 23 and a brunette.

"Are you Angel O'Connell?" the woman asked him.

"Uh… yeah. Can I help you?"

"I'm Cordelia Chase. Mr. Giles said that I would find you out here." Angel nodded, waiting for her to get to the point. She looked nervous, like she expected danger to be lurking behind every bush in the yard. Angel sincerely hoped that her visit had nothing to do with ghosts. She took a deep breath, "I'm looking for a job. I can help you with the restoration… decorating… moving furniture. I work hard and I can do almost anything… cooking, cleaning, and painting. All I'm asking for in return is room and board."

Angel was surprised by her request, surely it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he wasn't ready to hire any staff. He opened his mouth to tell her he couldn't help her, but he wasn't given the chance.

"Hire her" Buffy said as she materialised next to him.

"I'm afraid I…" he began.

"You can't send her away. She needs your help" Buffy pushed.

"Look I tried to get a job in town, but there wasn't any I was qualified for" she told him. "The waitress at the Espresso Pump said that it was possible that you might have a job opening."

"She doesn't have anywhere to go" Buffy said, "I have a feeling that she'll be good for the inn and my feelings are never wrong. If any of my friends were still alive they'd back me up on that."

"I don't have any rooms ready" Angel muttered, "I just moved in myself a couple of weeks ago. We're a long way from being ready for guests or staff."

"I don't need any special accommodations, I'll sleep on the floor. I would like to help you get your inn ready to open."

"Don't send her away" Buffy urged.

Angel felt trapped, but there was something about this woman that told him she'd be an asset. He just resented that Buffy practically ordered him to hire her. "When do you want to start, Cordelia?"

Her eyes lit up; "Its Cordy and I can start immediately. My stuff is in the car."

"I'll see about getting some of the furniture out of storage and into one of the rooms. You can help my uncle out for now and we'll discuss your wage later" he told her.

Cordy gave him a shy smile, "Thanks. You won't regret this." She then headed off to get her belongings out of her car.

"You are so sweet" Buffy told him, "I had such a feeling about you."

"Lets just hope that your feelings don't get me in trouble" he replied snippily. "Damn it! What am I suppose to do with her?"

"She can help you and your uncle out until the inn is open. Besides some of the stuff your uncle does when you're not around is dangerous."

"Like what?" Angel asked her curiously.

Buffy looked at him; "Well… yesterday he was up on that old ladder cleaning windows."

"I didn't know" Angel said scowling at how crafty his uncle was getting and how he needed a third eye to keep up with his schemes.

"I like your uncle. He seems really nice," Buffy said.

Angel nodded, "He is. He raised me after my parents died."

"Oh… I'm sorry." Angel saw the sorrow on her face and moved closer. He looked at her like he was about to say something of monumental importance.

"Angel?" Giles called walking towards him and breaking the mood of the moment. "Lunch is ready."

Angel reluctantly looked away from Buffy and towards his uncle. "Sorry, Uncle Rupert. I was caught up thinking about how much work I still need to do out here."

Giles suddenly moved to in front of Angel and smiled smugly. "I knew you'd hire her. I just knew it."

"I've got to be crazy" Angel muttered. "What am I going to do with her? It's the worst time to hire any staff."

"We're going to take care of her. She needs us" Giles told him.

Angel sighed in resignation and realised that his uncle had just adopted another stray. He looked to the space that Buffy had just occupied and at the brunette dragging her things inside and wondered how he'd ever thought that being a small-town innkeeper would be a nice easy, *normal* life.

Doyle was expected to arrive for dinner and when Cordy heard that her new employers were expecting a friend, she insisted that she prepare the meal.

"There's no need for you to start immediately" Giles tried to argue with Cordelia. Angel knew that Cordy was exhausted. She and he had spent all afternoon moving furniture into what was to be her room and setting up the room for habitation.

"Uncle Rupert's right, Cordy" Angel told her, "You can join us tonight instead… as our guest."

Cordy shook her head and her expression turned stubborn, "I intend to earn my own way. You and Mr. Giles enjoy your evening, I'll eat in the kitchen."

Nothing that either Giles or Angel said could convince her to change her mind. They gave in when Cordy started to whine about being left alone.

Doyle arrived a little while later, carrying a thick file, which he immediately handed to Angel. "I made a copy of everything I had on Elizabeth Summers" he said explained, "It's not much, but it's a start."

"Thanks Doyle" Angel said appreciatively.

Doyle smiled at Giles; "It's nice of yer to have me over, Mr. Giles."

Giles returned the smile, "We're delighted to have you. Our new housekeeper's making dinner."

Doyle lifted an eyebrow; "Yer hired a housekeeper?"

Angel just shrugged, "She showed up here and… uh… my conscious made me hire her."

Suddenly Angel heard the sound of Buffy's laughter. Angel looked around discretely and saw her standing in a corner, he wondered how long she'd been there. He also prayed that she wouldn't humiliate him in front of the one person in this town he called friend. They made their way into the dining room where Cordy was setting the table. Doyle didn't notice her at first, he was too busy looking at the new décor.

"Yer got this place lookin' nice" he told them. "If this is a sample of what the rest will look like…" his voice trailed off when he saw her.

Angel tried not to smile at his friend's obvious attraction to Cordy.

"Isn't that so cute?" Buffy murmured in Angel's ear. "He looks like someone clubbed him over his head."

Ignoring Buffy, Angel made the introductions. "Cordelia Chase, this is Doyle… he owns the local paper."

The smile on Cordy's face faded and was replaced with a look of disgust. "You're a reporter?"

Doyle nodded; "Someone has to do it."

Cordy didn't even look at him. "Dinner is ready," she said disappearing into the kitchen.

"Uh oh. I don't think she likes reporters," Buffy said.

"No kidding" Angel muttered back sarcastically.

Doyle looked at Angel with a confused look on his face. "Was it somethin' I said?"

Angel shrugged. "Have a seat" Angel said instead. Angel and Giles sat down too.

"Hey" Buffy demanded jokingly, "Aren't you going to hold a chair out for me?"

*Wouldn't Doyle just love to see that* Angel thought. He could imagine tomorrow's headline: Towns newest resident dines with imaginary friend. Or worse: Summers' ghost makes reappearance. Wouldn't that bring out the loonies?

"Never mind" Buffy laughed, "I can see you'd rather pretend I'm not here."

That wasn't true, Angel wished that he could acknowledge her presence. He just wished that he could do it under normal circumstances.

"So… will Ms. Chase be joining us?' Doyle asked a second later, all so hopefully.

"We asked her too, but she refused" Giles told him.

"Poor guy" Buffy said noting the disappointment on Doyle's face. Cordy did come back in during the meal for brief spells of time, each time ignoring Doyle's existence.

After dinner they moved into the inn's sitting room. Even though they asked Cordy to join them, she refused, all the time she was avoiding looking at Doyle. Cordy's excuse was that she was tired from moving in and that after she cleaned up the kitchen she was going to bed. After Giles heard her say that he insisted on helping her clean up.

"So tell me about Cordelia?" Doyle said the moment that they were alone. "You said she just turned up lookin' for a job?"

Angel nodded, "Yeah."

"She's on the run" Doyle murmured.

"My guess is some type of abusive relationship," Angel said agreeing.

Doyle winced at the thought that Cordy was already taken, "Most likely."

"Anyway" Angel said, "I figure it's none of my business. Unless some jerk shows up and starts making trouble."

Doyle's face darkened, "If that happens, give me a call. I'll help yer take care of him."

Angel gave a distracted nod, not sure whether to answer Doyle or not.

"Isn't that sweet? He likes her" Buffy commented appearing next to Angel. "Do you think she is involved?"

Angel had wondered if she was going to follow them into the room. He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug and gave her a look that reminded her that it wasn't convenient to talk right now. He turned back to Doyle; "I appreciate you bringing me the notes. Are you sure there's nothing… no evidence to contradict Harris' story?"

Doyle shook his head. "What I found was sketchy at best," he admitted. "I interviewed some locals, dug up some old newspapers and tried to get a look at some official documents."

"And?"

"And… not much" Doyle answered. "All the locals gave the same version of the story. The articles were surprisingly uninformative and no official documents have survived."

Angel frowned, "Nothing. What do you mean survived?"

"Nothing survived the earthquake back in 1952" Doyle told him. "The town hall and court-house were reduced to rubble and everything was scrapped including the files."

"What exactly did the articles say?"

"They said that Elizabeth Summers died during a shoot-out with Constable Xander Harris, when he came to arrest her and her accomplice. Her step-father and fiancé were too grief-stricken to be interviewed, her friends clamed up and a few attention grabbers claimed that they'd always known she was a criminal."

Buffy's eyes went wide and she yelled, "Lies! All lies."

"Someone had to know something" Angel muttered in an attempt to calm her down.

"Xander knew… that little weasel" Buffy insisted. "As well as whoever shot me and that bootlegger."

"That left only the third man alive" Angel said forgetting that he shouldn't speak to her. "He's the one we have to identify. I don't know how though."

"Third man?" Doyle looked at Angel strangely. "What third man?"

Angel suddenly realised what he'd just done. "I… er… think that Xander Harris was in on the crime and Buf… Elizabeth was murdered because she walked in on them."

Doyle looked extremely skeptical. "Why do yer think that? How could yer know?"

Angel thought desperately for something to say, looking to Buffy for any suggestions. For once she was quiet, shrugging in response to silent plea.

"Yer have come across something, haven't yer? A diary? A journal? What?"

"I…" Angel started to deny it, but changed his mind. "I have come across something" he admitted, "But I can't talk about it until I get evidence."

"Evidence of what?"

"That the Adams-Wilkins fortune is founded on bootlegging and murder" Angel told him.

"Oh man" Doyle groaned. "Yer gonna get in big trouble if yer spread that around. Yer don't know how they are… especially Shirley Adams-Wilkins about her family honour. They can make things hell for yer here."

"I know" Angel replied. "Why do you think I need proof before I say anything."

"Even if yer did find proof" Doyle said, "Why bother? Yer could be harming innocent descendants. Besides after all this time, who cares?"

Buffy flinched and Angel resisted the impulse to comfort her. "Are you telling me that if you had evidence, you wouldn't release it?" he said instead.

"Of course I would… I think" Doyle said. "Why do you want to though? Yer tryin' to lay a troubled soul to rest?"

"Maybe."

"Yer sure yer haven't seen the ghost?"

"Nope." Doyle sighed. "If yer get evidence I promise to run it. But I'll need more than yer hunches… or ghostly whisperings of a tormented spirit."

Buffy glared at Doyle, "That isn't funny."

Giles rejoined them and Angel let the subject drop. The next time Angel looked, Buffy had gone. He wondered when she'd be back and if she approved of how he was helping.

Buffy didn't reappear during the next week. Angel wondered if she'd stayed too long that night? If she was in that grey area, gathering her strength to return to him… to the inn? Or maybe he'd never see her again? The last one was the possibility that he dreaded… he needed to see her, for more than one reason. It wasn't so bad during the day, when he could busy himself around the inn with the renovations and such, or research Buffy's death. The nights however were bad, long and restless. Angel slept in snatches, waking often to look blearily around his room, making sure that he was alone. Always disappointed when he was.

"You're an idiot O'Connell" he muttered late one afternoon, when he was all but drooping from exhaustion.

"Talking to yourself again?" his uncle, asked as he approached.

Angel laughed, "Yep."

"You'd better watch that. I might start worrying… maybe I already have" Giles said looking at him.

"I'm just tired Uncle Rupert. It's a bigger job than I'd expected, getting the inn ready to open."

"I have a feeling it's more than that," Giles said.

Angel avoided his Uncle's stare. "I'm fine?" he insisted, "How's everything inside?"

Giles recognised the tactic Angel used, but went along with it, he knew Angel would talk when he was ready. "All right. It's noisy and it's making Cordelia jumpy."

"Is she still trying to rival the Bionic Woman?"

Giles sighed, "I'm afraid so. I can't get her to slow down."

Angel shook his head; "I don't suppose she's told you anymore about herself?"

"No and I refuse to pry" Giles said. In the short time since she'd arrived, Cordy had become like a daughter to him.

"Doyle's called twice asking about her" Angel told him.

"He does seem taken with her, doesn't he?" Giles replied smiling. "Although Cordelia, the poor dear, doesn't seem interested in him."

"I'm just hoping that no one else shows up," Angel said. "We're already full and we're not even open yet."

"Not to mention Elizabeth Summers." Angel stared at his uncle, mouth wide open. "Elizabeth…" Giles laughed as he walked away, "Our ghost. She's popular around these parts, she's used to scare the grade school children."

Angel could imagine Buffy's reaction to that. He found himself looking around, expecting her to appear and protest. There was no sign of her and Angel sighed, getting back to his work.

He awoke that night at three o'clock. His dreams had been disturbing, leaving him itchy, aching and covered in sweat. He didn't want to dwell on the details; he knew exactly what he'd been doing in that dream and with who. The inn was silent and Angel looked automatically to the corner that she'd last appeared in. He was alone and aware of it, as he hadn't been in a very long time. He was used to sleeping alone; his marriage had been over long before it had been formally ended. Since the divorce he hadn't had the energy to pursue relationships, it was just easier to concentrate on making a new life. Whatever he'd felt for Darla hadn't lasted, he no longer believed in soulmates or true love that lasted a lifetime. Then again, until a few weeks ago, he hadn't believed in ghosts either. He sat up and turned on the lamp. He knew he wasn't going to go back to sleep anytime soon; so he reached out to grab the book he was reading, but instead picked up the photo of Buffy. Her face smiled back at him and his chest grew tight. He'd 'borrowed' the photo from his uncle with the excuse that he needed it as a reference for remodelling the outside of the inn. He'd known even then that he was lying. He hadn't looked at the building, his only interest had been Buffy.

"Damn it" he muttered. "Where are you?"

Two more days passed and still no Buffy, but there were other visitors. Kate Lockley made an appearance, obviously because she'd heard about the new housekeeper.

"So," she asked after she'd sat down, "Have you known her long?"

Impatient to get rid of her, Angel replied, "No."

Not getting the message Kate took a deep breath. "Angel… I was wondering if… maybe you'd like to have dinner with me?"

He swallowed, he wasn't surprised by the invitation, but he'd been hoping to avoid it. "Thanks Kate… but I'm afraid I can't."

She made no effort to hide her disappointment, " I hope I didn't embarrass you." "

No" Angel assured her, "It's just…"

"You're still stinging from your divorce?" she suggested.

That sounded good, "Yeah… it hasn't been long." He felt like a jerk for lying, but he simply couldn't think of another way.

Kate smiled, "If you change your mind…"

"Sure" Angel nodded.

Kate left soon after. Angel was relieved, the truth was he did want to date… Buffy, the one woman he wanted and the one woman he could never have. Since he couldn't have her he refused to settle for someone else, instead he clung to hope for a miracle.

Angel wasn't in any hurry to go to bed that night. He wasn't ready to face another night of waiting for Buffy. Everyone else was already in bed, leaving him to watch reruns of Star Trek on cable. Growing bored, he turned the TV off and headed to the kitchen for a glass of milk to help him sleep. Someone was in the kitchen, quiet and dressed in white. For a moment his pulse jerked, "Buff…" He stopped when he saw the dark hair. "Cordy" he said trying to hide his disappointment, "Why are you still up?"

Cordy whirled around when she heard him, "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry" Angel apologised, "You okay?"

"Yeah. I couldn't sleep and I thought that milk…"

"Great minds" Angel told her.

Cordy smiled, "I'll pour two."

"Thanks" Angel said walking to the cupboard. "Want a cookie?"

"Sure." Angel shoved a pile of cookies on the table and sat across from her. Then he tried to think of something to say. "How are you settling in?"

"Great. I think I've fallen for your uncle" Cordy told him.

"All the girls do" Angel joked. Then he turned serious, "Just so you know… you're welcome to stay here as long as you want. Assuming I don't go bankrupt."

"I doubt that" Cordy told him, "Something tells me this place is gonna be popular."

"That's good to know."

Cordy finished her milk and cookies. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight Angel."

"Night Cordy."

She paused in the doorway, "Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks" Cordy said.

"No problem."

Cordy nodded and went to bed, leaving Angel to wonder what, or who, had put that frightened look into her eyes. There was something about her that brought out his protective instincts. It wasn't romantic what he felt for her, it was the bond that a brother felt for a sister. He decided that fraternal feelings were a hell of a lot easier than romantic ones.

Angel took a shower before turning in; he was trying to make himself extra sleepy. He'd forgotten to take underwear into the bathroom with him, so he wrapped the towel around him and went into his room. He dropped the towel and went to step into his boxers, when something cool and tingly touched his right butt cheek.

"That really is a cute birthmark," a voice said from behind him.

Stumbling and swearing, Angel quickly pulled on the boxers and turned to face her.

She just stood there, "Hi."

He leaned against his dresser, heart pounding from the scare she'd just given him… and from the excitement of seeing her again. He hadn't realised exactly how much he'd missed her until now and how afraid he'd been that she wouldn't come back. He was in big trouble this time.

"How long?" Buffy asked.

Angel knew what she was asking, "Two weeks."

"Wow."

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back."

Buffy stepped closer, "Would you have cared if I didn't?"

He held her gaze, knowing he shouldn't answer. Yet he heard himself say, "Yeah, I'd have cared."

Her smile was sad, "I've been in the waiting place. I tried to come back before now, but I couldn't… I've been here awhile."

"Have you" How long had she been watching? Did she watch him take a shower?

"I saw you with the bleached-blond who sold you my inn earlier. She asked you out. In my day women weren't so forward."

"No?" He found it hard to believe Buffy had ever held anything back.

Buffy laughed, "Most weren't… You turned her down."

"Wasn't interested."

"Because you're still in love with your ex-wife?" Buffy asked.

"No, it was just an excuse."

She sat down on his bed, "You were alone with the housekeeper…"

"You were there too?" The thought of her stalking him all over his own home was disturbing.

She nodded, "I wasn't spying on you. I wanted to talk to you, but you were busy."

"I was just making small-talk with Cordy." He wasn't explaining himself… he assured himself that he was just telling her what happened. It wasn't Buffy's business who he talked to or went out with. Even if she was the only woman he was really interested in.

"She seems… nice."

"She is" Angel said.

Buffy looked at him, "Pretty too. Are you…"

Angel cut her off, "Cordy is my employee."

Buffy sighed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. After all I did make you hire her."

Angel sat down next to her, "You were right, though."

Buffy brushed her hand along his cheek, her touch was both pleasurable and strange. "I shouldn't pry into your love life. You seem so alone, it's not right."

"I'm…" He cleared his throat, hoping that Buffy hadn't noticed how her touch had affected him. "I'm not lonely" he assured her, "I have Uncle Rupert, a few friends. You."

Buffy seemed fascinated by his chest, her hands feeling him. Her touch was cold, but it was making him feel hotter by the second. "You're so muscular. Not like…"

"Riley."

Buffy blushed, "He was kind of… Not like you."

"You saw him naked?"

"No" Buffy said insulted, "We went swimming once and I saw his chest. Women in my day didn't do anything else before marriage."

"They didn't?"

Buffy sighed, "Some did, but I didn't."

"Did you love him?" Angel asked her, praying she'd say no.

Buffy sighed, "I was fond of him."

"Was it enough for you?"

"No, but that all consuming type of love scared me. So I avoided it" she told him.

"Me too."

"You didn't love your wife?"

"I was fond of her" Angel replied.

Her hands were still on his chest, "Do you think you'll ever fall in love?"

"I don't…"

"What?" she asked him curiously.

Angel pulled a face, "I don't believe in love."

Buffy laughed, "Like ghosts?"

"Yeah."

"My mother believed in it. She told me that the night I was born she made a wish that I'd find love… like she and my father did" Buffy's eyes saddened. "Well that wish was wasted. As soon as you clear my name, I'll be gone."

"You're sure about that?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense to me" Buffy answered.

Angel closed his eyes for a moment. "You're making me reluctant to help you."

"Why?"

He touched her face, "If clearing your name means I'll never see you again, I find it hard to want to do it."

"That's sweet."

He shook his head; "It's true. You haunt me, Buffy."

She took her hands off his chest, "Don't say… we can't…"

"I know" he muttered, his mouth hovering just above hers.

A moment later she was across the room, her back to him. "Any new leads in the investigation?" she asked changing the topic.

"No." He tried to clear his mind; "I'm trying…"

"I know."

"I'm going to try again tomorrow" he told her.

"I wish I could help you" Buffy said.

"Me too."

She sighed, "I have to go now."

Angel stopped himself from reaching out to her, "You'll be back."

"Yes." Then she was gone.

He lay awake for a long, long time that night, knowing that he was a fool to wish that things were different.

"I appreciate you seeing me this afternoon, Mrs. Adams-Wilkins" Angel said over tea in the living room of the Wilkins estate.

"A pleasure, Mr. O'Connell. I understand you wish to know about the décor of the inn? I must tell you that I can't really remember, I was young when my father sold the inn."

"Do you remember the gardens then?" he said. "There wild and I can't tell what was planted."

"I remember roses… my mother had a rose garden" she told him.

"Thanks. That is helpful," Angel said bored out of his skull.

Shirley nodded, pleased to be handing out advice. "Was there anything else?"

It was the opening Angel had been waiting for. "I've heard stories about the inn. Everyone in town has told me something about the ghost."

Shirley's forehead creased with disapproval. "That nonsense again? One would think that grown-ups had something better to talk about."

"Well, if a person believes in that… it could be interesting" Angel commented.

"I do not."

"Me either" Angel agreed, at least until recently. "What rational adult would believe that a ghost is drifting around endlessly, seeking truth and justice."

"Exactly. Although I don't see what justice has to do with Elizabeth Summers."

Angel shrugged, "Some locals have said that she was innocent and that she was murdered because she knew too much."

"What nonsense. Someone is kidding you, Mr. O'Connell. My father's step-sibling was guilty… as embarrassing as that is."

"It was fortunate that no one questioned your grandfather" Angel said.

"Fortunate?" Shirley repeated.

"He was due to turn over ownership of the inn to Elizabeth wasn't he?"

"Makes no difference, he was innocent. I wish to have the name of this local who is slandering my family's good name" Shirley said angrily.

Angel left Shirley Adams-Wilkins home soon after that. He hoped that his lack of progress wouldn't upset Buffy, because he was trying.

"Angel, my man. Yer are definitely one brave… or stupid… son of a gun. Yer know yer got the whole Wilkins clan out for yer blood." Angel winced and shifted the phone to his other ear.

"I know I'm not a family favourite" he admitted, "Why is she mad? All I did was ask a few questions."

"And implied that her granddaddy was involved in Elizabeth Summers death" Doyle reminded him. "Not a bright idea, O'Connell."

"I only asked some questions" Angel grumbled.

"Well man, yer right pissed her off."

"Okay" Angel said, "I wasn't exactly tactful…"

"What next?" Doyle cut him off, "Are yer gonna attack her in the street?"

Angel said, "Maybe… would it work?"

Doyle ignored him, "I wish I knew why this is so important to yer."

Angel sighed, "I wish I could…" *But you'd never believe me*

"Yer behaviour is nutty… it's a seventy-five year old case."

"I know." *You'd think I was nuttier if you knew the truth. *

"Yer not gonna tell me are yer?"

"No" Angel replied.

"Well, call me if yer find anything" Doyle said.

"Sure" Angel replied hanging up. He looked around and said, "I hope you're happy. Thanks to you I'm a leper." He turned around and saw Cordy standing in the doorway staring at him. He cleared his throat, "I was…er… talking to myself."

Cordy nodded, "I just wanted to tell you that dinner will be ready in an hour."

"Good. I…uh… have some work to do in the garden."

"Yeah" she said still staring at him. Angel walked past her, without looking. He wondered how Buffy would feel when he was dragged away in a straitjacket.

Buffy watched Angel leave the room. She'd been watching him for awhile, but hadn't attempted to communicate. He looked so tired. She knew that he'd been working hard on both the inn and finding the truth for her. He was risking his health, his business and everything else… for her. And he'd asked for nothing in return. Was it any wonder that she'd fallen in love with him? While he probably wished that he'd never met her. She was going to set him free soon, whether he found the truth or not. He didn't deserve what she'd put him through these last weeks. It had never occurred to her that a heart that was no longer beating could still break. Now she realised that it could. Hers broke each time she left him to return to the grey place. And she knew that it would shatter completely the day she would tell him goodbye forever.

Over the next few days, Angel concentrated on researching Xander Harris. The information was limited, but he found out that the constable had been jealous of Buffy's relationship with Riley and had a need for power, money and respect. He'd married a childhood friend and they'd had three children, only one settled in the area. Angel tracked down Harris' grandson, who lived in a nearby town. Angel explained that he'd just bought the Summers inn and was researching it's history. Alex Harris was happy to help.

"My granny Anya told me all about the shooting. Said grandpa was a real hero, but he paid the ultimate price for his dedication."

"What did she mean by that?"

Alex leaned in close to Angel, "My granny never believed the story about grandpa dropping his gun and shooting himself to death. She thought that George Adams, Elizabeth's step-daddy, killed him."

Angel tried to look as though the thought shocked him, even though he wanted to cheer. Finally someone other than he doubted the official story. "Why did she think that?" he asked.

"Revenge" Alex told him. "She said that he was mad with grief over Elizabeth's death."

Angel frowned, "Really? That doesn't sound right… they weren't close."

"Yeah well, granny Anya always was nutty and she hated the Adams' and the Wilkins'."

"Oh" Angel said disappointed, "Mr. Harris…"

"Alex."

"Alex, is there anyone alive that actually knew Elizabeth or her step-father?" Angel asked.

Alex frowned, "Maybe Charlie Gunn."

Angel froze, "Charlie Gunn?" He hadn't heard that name before.

"His mama worked at the inn and they also lived there. When he was older he worked for Adams' and the Wilkins'. About ten or so years ago they shipped him off to a nursing home" Alex said. "If he's still alive he might know something."

"Great."

"It always was strange though…" Alex started.

"What?"

"Well, neither the Adams' or the Wilkins' are nice folk. Yet they take good care of old Charlie Gunn."

Angel nodded to show that he got the point. Charlie Gunn was becoming more and more interesting. Was it possible that he knew something about Buffy's death? "Do you know which nursing home?" Angel asked.

"Nope" Alex replied. "I do know that it's in LA though."

Angel thanked the man for his help and left, all the time wondering how he was going to track the nursing home down.

When Angel got to his car, he called Doyle on his cell phone. "Did you ever come across the name Charlie Gunn?" he asked as soon as Doyle answered.

"Gunn… Wasn't he Shirley Adams-Wilkins' handyman?"

"Yeah. Why didn't you mention him?"

"I kinda forgot about him" Doyle confessed somewhat sheepishly.

Angel barely managed to control his frustration. "What do you know about him?"

"Not much. He lived at the inn when he was a boy and worked for both Shirley and her father before her" Doyle answered.

"Do you know what nursing home he's in?"

"No. Before I could start lookin', I got busy with the problems with my paper. I kinda forgot afterwards."

"I guess I'm calling nursing homes then," Angel said unenthusiastically.

"Yer think he's a lead? The guys gotta be at least eighty-five. What if he's senile?"

"It's worth a shot" Angel told him hanging up.

He wondered when he'd see Buffy again to discuss the case. And then he told himself off for making up excuses, when the truth was that he just wanted to see her again.

Giles was in the lobby when Angel returned. He looked at his nephew, "Back from another one of your mysterious outings?"

Angel knew that his uncle was worried about him. He knew he was acting strange, but he couldn't exactly behave normally… after everything that had happened. He'd met a ghost and was trying to solve her murder, while he was in extreme danger of falling in love with her… even though she'd been dead for seventy-five years. How could he behave like nothing was different?

"Just getting to know our new neighbours" he told his uncle.

"New friends or enemies?" Giles asked him.

Angel winced, "Er… what do you mean?"

"I heard that you aren't exactly Mr. Popularity with the Wilkins'. What's going on Angel? Why are you asking so many questions about Elizabeth Summers?"

Angel tried to look surprised, "You were the one who encouraged me to look at the inn's history."

"Yes, but aren't you taking it a bit too far?"

"Uncle Rupert, don't worry. You know how I get when I'm involved in a project… I become Mr. Workaholic."

Giles nodded, "That's why you're successful. But this ghost business…"

"Is part of my inn's history."

"I guess" Giles said unconvinced.

"Just a few more questions and I'll forget it and concentrate on the inn" Angel assured him.

"Okay, but try not to annoy the locals" Giles replied.

"I'll try" Angel agreed.

Later that afternoon, Angel was working in one of the old sheds behind the inn. He was trying to tear it down, using the physical labour to clear his mind and work off his frustrations. He heard a few scuffling noises come from above him in the loft, but he figured that it was an animal that made itself a home there. He continued to work for a few more hours. After lunch when he returned to the work, he heard a scraping sound he was about to look up when Buffy appeared in front of him.

"Angel!" she cried her voice frantic, "Move!"

Instinctively Angel ducked and threw himself forward. Something hard and heavy hit him across his right shoulder. Something so heavy, that even now he was trapped beneath it. Had he not moved when Buffy told him to, it would've landed on his head killing him. Pain exploded in his injured shoulder and radiated through him as he lay on the hard, cold wooden floor.

"Angel? Angel, are you all right?" Buffy hovered beside him, wringing her hands. "Can you move?"

He groaned and tried to move the movement sent pain through his body. "No" he gasped, "Too heavy."

He tried to look back and see what was holding him down, but his vision was blurry, but whatever it was it weighed a ton. His right arm was numb and he couldn't move his fingers. Something warm and wet trickled down his arm and onto the floor beneath him.

"Buffy" he muttered his vision dimming, "Help me."

"I can't" she said sobbing, "I tried to move it, but I can't."

His mind was spinning, the pain almost overwhelming him. "Can you… can you bring someone to help me?"

"I'll try" she promised. "Angel, I'm so sorry."

"Get help" he muttered as he closed his eyes and let the darkness engulf him.

Angel wasn't sure how much time passed before his uncle came. As he drifted in and out of consciousness on a wave of pain, it could've been hours or just a few seconds.

"Angel! What happened?" Giles asked kneeling down beside him. "Can you talk?"

Angel moaned, "Can't… get up."

Giles got up and moved quickly to the shed door. "Cordelia" he called, "Call 911 and then come here. Angel's hurt."

Relieved that help had arrived, Angel tried to fight off the darkness that threatened to retake him. He wanted to stay conscious, to know how badly he was hurt.

"What got… me" he questioned slowly through the pain.

"An old bench" Giles told him. "And you're bleeding… there's a cut from your elbow to your shoulder."

Thoughts of Buffy ran through his pain filled mind. "Uncle Rupert… how… how did…"

"Keep quiet. You need to save your strength."

Angel stubbornly persisted. "How… did you know… I needed you?"

Giles looked perplexed. "I don't know. I was in the kitchen and suddenly… I just knew something was wrong. So I came to check on you."

Just then Cordy arrived. "Cordelia, let's try to get this off of him."

"Should we? We might injure him more and help is on the way" Cordy said.

Although Cordy wanted to wait, she agreed to help Giles. They took hold of opposite ends and moved the heavy metal and stone bench off him. Angel's relief at having it removed from him was over-taken by more pain. He finally surrendered to it and to the oblivion that followed. His last thought was of Buffy, and of the fear and helplessness he'd seen in her eyes when she'd seen him hurt.

The next afternoon, as soon as they arrived back from picking Angel up from the hospital, they put him in the sitting room. Cordy and Giles took turns giving him his medication and checking on him every five minutes. In his own opinion he was fine, just one large cut and a severely bruised shoulder. He also knew he was lucky to be alive, but he didn't want or need to be fussed over… unless it was by Buffy. But he did the nice thing and sat there silently with the cup of tea (which he didn't even like) from Giles and a newspaper from Cordy, trying to juggle them both in his left hand and failing miserably. He put them both down and sat there brooding over Buffy. He had one thought continuously going through his mind: Was he really in love with her? And if he was, what could he possibly do about it? The phone rang in the background Angel ignored it. Someone answered it and a moment later, Cordy brought it in to him.

"It's for you" she told him, handing him the cordless phone.

"Thanks" he replied sighing. He put it to his ear and said, "Hello."

"I hear yer wrestled a bench and lost" a familiar voice came down the line.

"True" Angel replied recognising Doyle's voice.

"Seriously… are yer okay? Someone in town told me that yer arm was cut off. 'Delia assured me that it wasn't the case."

"Cordy actually spoke to you?" Angel asked in disbelief.

Sighing Doyle said, "Briefly. I wish I knew what she had against me."

"It's probably not you…" Angel said trying to comfort his friend. "I don't think she's looking for a relationship."

"She just needs time to get used to the idea," Doyle said stubbornly. Then he changed the subject, "So what did happen to yer arm?"

"I was tearing down an old shed, when it started to rain benches. I ducked and therefore I am alive to tell the tale" Angel told him, thinking that Buffy probably saved his life with her warning.

"Why was a bench above yer?"

"I don't know. It wasn't there earlier" Angel told him.

There was silence on the other end.

"Are yer sure?" Doyle asked.

"Totally" Angel said. "I checked the shed out before I started on it. That bench was outside at the back of the shed."

"I saw a man pull it into the loft, while you were eating" Buffy said appearing next to him. "The same one who pushed it on you."

Angel stared at her. "Who?" he mouthed, frustrated that he couldn't talk to her.

She shrugged, "A man… he looked dirty. He had been watching you before he did it."

"Angel? Yer there?" Doyle asked.

"Someone pushed it on me" he told Doyle.

"Are yer sure?"

"I saw them" Angel said, "But it happened so quickly…"

"'Delia said it was an accident" Doyle said.

"You're the only person I told "Angel said.

Doyle made a weird noise, "Why didn't yer tell the cops? Chief Wilkins would… Oh hell." Doyle reached the obvious conclusion, "The Wilkins'."

"I think I'm close to the truth."

Doyle said, "I'm comin' over. We need to talk."

"Sure, but I don't have any new proof."

"See yer in twenty minutes."

Looking at Buffy, Angel hung up. "Tell me again," he asked.

She repeated what she told him earlier. "I tried to warn you, but I couldn't." "Why not?" he asked her gently. "I don't know… maybe I panicked. He almost killed you," she said sniffling.

Angel stroked her cheek, "But he didn't, because you saved me."

Buffy moved away from him, "I was so scared for you. I felt so helpless and then you were lying there…"

Angel got out of the chair and walked over to her, "Buffy it's okay. I'm grateful… you're my hero."

She looked at him, her eyes were so tortured that his throat tightened. He now knew that she could feel pain and that thought tore him up inside. "It was like I wasn't there," she said, "Like I was…dead."

"Buffy…"

She covered her face with her hands. "Don't say anything."

"Buffy…"

"You think that you were attacked because of the investigation?" she asked.

"It's possible," he said nodding.

"I want you to stop now. Forget you ever saw me."

Angel grabbed her arm with his good one. "You don't really believe that I can do that do you?"

"You don't have a choice. I don't want you hurt again, I couldn't stand it."

Angel shook his head, "Nothing will happen."

Buffy looked at his arm, "Something already did. Next time it could be worse."

"I'll be careful."

"Like I was careful?" she yelled.

"You weren't expecting anything to happen, I will be" Angel told her.

"Angel…"

"No discussion Buff. I said I'd clear your name and I'm going to do it" he replied.

She looked at him, "That anxious to get rid of me?"

"I don't ever want to be rid of you," he said staring into her eyes.

"Angel…"

"Do you need me to tell you?"

"No" she said moving away, "Don't… it can't be."

"I know that, but it doesn't make any difference."

"I don't want you hurt" she told him, "By me or anyone else."

"Let me worry about that."

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. "I have to go now" she told him.

"I know," he said as she disappeared.

"Angel?" Giles said entering the room. "Are you in pain?"

"Yeah, it hurts like hell."

He wasn't talking about his arm, but his heart. While Giles rushed off to get the pain pills, Angel sat back down in the chair and wondered why this had to happen to him.

"I think we should talk to Charlie Gunn" Angel said. He had just told Doyle all of his suspicions about the Wilkins'.

"Yer know, this all sounds like the plot to a bad movie" Doyle replied.

"I know" Angel said, "But it happened."

"Yer really think that Charles Gunn knows something?"

"Why else would the Wilkins', support the old man?"

Doyle sighed, "Do yer know where he is?"

"No, but I'll find him" Angel replied determinedly.

Doyle sighed again, "I'll go with yer when yer talk to him." When Angel looked at him he added, "Yer can't drive like yer are. Besides if yer are in danger… yer need a friend by yer side."

Angel smiled, "Thanks."

"One condition though. If Gunn denies it… you'll drop this nutty ghost chase?"

"I won't have any other choice" Angel said, "He's my last chance."

"And yer will tell me what started all this?"

Angel agreed, knowing he'd have to think of something to satisfy Doyle. He wasn't sure that their friendship would survive the ghost story.

Two days later, Angel was sitting in the passenger seat of Doyle's old Ford headed for a nursing home in LA. Angel hadn't seen Buffy for two days and he had a strong feeling that she was avoiding him. He knew why she was doing it, but he missed her more with each passing second. How was he ever going to be able to stand it when she was gone forever?

"Yer quiet today" Doyle commented, "Am I botherin' yer?"

"No. I was just thinking" Angel replied.

Doyle brought up his favourite subject. "I heard that Cordy's enrolled in some classes at the community college."

"Did Cordy tell you?" Angel asked in surprise.

"Well no. I kinda ran into Snyder, who's the dean… he told me" Doyle answered. "Cordy doesn't talk to me. Everytime she sees me, she all but runs in the opposite direction. Yer know if she keeps that up, I'm liable to get my feelings hurt."

Angel offered a weak smile, "Give her some time."

Doyle shook his head, "Yer probably think I'm nuts, but… this has never happened to me before. I mean, I took one look and POW! She's consumed my thoughts ever since, even though she's done everything but wear a sign that says that she's not interested. Anything like that ever happen to yer?"

Angel thought of Buffy and the way she haunted his every thought. The way he had a constant need to see, hear and touch her. Even though they could never be. "Yeah" he told Doyle, "Something like that."

Doyle glanced sideways, "Yer ex-wife?"

"No."

"Someone since?"

"Yeah" Angel said.

"What happened?" Doyle asked.

Angel sighed, "We have… irreconcilable differences."

"I wasn't tryin' to be nosy, I just thought that yer might have some advice. I've never been in love before… it just never happened. I don't even know if this is…" Doyle broke off. "Hell, I sound like a teenager."

Angel laughed, "You sound like a bewildered guy. Trust me I know."

He couldn't help thinking how ironic it was that Doyle thought that Cordy was unattainable, at least she was alive. Angel was in love with Buffy… whoever, whatever and whenever she was. And it wasn't something that he was ever going to get over.

Charles Gunn was eighty-five, gravely ill and confined to a bed. He'd only agreed to see them because he had something he wanted to say.

"Which one of you bought the inn?" he barked at them the second that he spotted them.

Angel walked towards the bed, "I did. I'm Angel O'Connell."

"You see the ghost?"

"I… er…"

"I saw her ten years ago, on Valentine's Day. That's when I had my heart attack and they stuck me in here" Gunn told them.

Angel looked at him, "You saw her?" He wondered why Buffy had never mentioned it.

Gunn nodded, "I know why. She wanted me to tell the truth."

"The truth?"

Gunn looked at Doyle, "You that reporter fellow?"

"Yes" Doyle answered.

"Bring a notebook?" Gunn asked.

Doyle pulled one out of his pocket, "Never leave home without it."

"Well, write fast. I'm only saying this once and no questions."

Doyle exchanged a look with Angel, sat down and said, "I'm ready."

"I've been blackmailing the Adams' and the Wilkins' for sixty years. I kept quiet, but I ain't gonna be around much longer and I want them to pay." Angel didn't risk asking questions that might annoy the man. He just nodded and waited for the story. "My mama worked for Joyce Summers and when my dad ran off, Joyce promised ma she'd have a job for life. My ma adored Joyce and Elizabeth… especially Elizabeth, she was like a daughter to her. After Joyce died, she promised ma that she'd always call the inn home. She… Elizabeth was different from other girls, all she cared about was the inn. She wanted to own a whole chain of them, in her own way she wanted to continue her daddy's dream."

"Was that why she turned to bootlegging?" Doyle asked, "To finance the dream?"

Gunn snorted, "Elizabeth Summers never ran a bottle of hooch in her life."

"Yer were ten when she died" Doyle said, "How would yer know what she was like?"

"My mama knew" Gunn insisted. "Besides I saw what happened to her. I know she didn't do what Harris said."

"You witnessed her murder? You know who killed her?" Angel asked shocked.

"I've always known."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Angel asked. "Cause he told me he'd kill me, me and my ma and I believed him. He fired ma and we lived practically on the street until she died."

"Who killed her, Gunn?" Angel asked him, "Was it her step-father?"

Doyle's pen stilled over the notebook waiting for the answer.

"It wasn't George" Gunn answered.

"Well… who?" Angel questioned impatiently.

"It was her step-brother, Charles. He was the bootlegger and the murderer."

"Really?" Doyle said shocked.

"Yep. Money was all he cared about. He and Buck… the bootlegger and Xander Harris had a nice little operation going."

"Harris was in on it? Yer sure about it?"

Gunn scowled at Doyle; "Of course I'm sure. I've been collecting on that memory for sixty years. Think they would've paid me if I was wrong?"

"Tell us what happened that night?" Angel said giving Doyle a warning look.

"I was outside because of the party… Elizabeth's birthday. I heard some voices over near the old caretaker's shack, so I snuck over to see what was going on. I heard them talking about the bootlegging… about killing that law officer and how they thought that they were close to being caught." He paused for a moment; "They heard someone coming and froze. I saw it was Elizabeth… I wanted to warn her, but I was scared. Then before I knew it all hell had broken loose. She said something to Xander and Charles shot her. Next thing the bootlegger was killed."

Doyle looked up from his notes, "This is… incredible."

"And true" Gunn added.

"We believe you" Angel told him, "I already suspected something like this."

Gunn nodded, "I sat there terrified. Charles told Harris what to do and say… that their problems were over."

"She was killed so they could blame her for the murder of the lawman?" Doyle asked.

"Yep. Then Harris died in the… hunting accident."

"Charles killed him" Angel murmured.

"Most likely" Gunn agreed.

"Why did he threaten you? Did you confront him?" Angel pressed.

"He saw me," Gunn said. "That night he snuck into my bedroom… I was scared still, lying there awake. He had a knife and said he'd cut me into little pieces if I ever said a word… then he'd go after my ma."

"That S.O.B" Doyle said, "Yer were just a kid."

"He made his point… I never said a word."

"When did yer start the blackmail?" Doyle asked his disapproval evident.

Gunn said, "I was twenty-five, my ma was dead and I was on the streets. I went to him and said that he owed me. I told him that I wanted a lifetime job and looking after and I'd keep my mouth shut for all eternity."

"How could you?" Angel exploded, "Because of you, he got away with murder."

"By that time, I didn't care and he gave in. I stayed on with him and his rotten family for fifty years."

"The whole family's in on it?" Doyle asked incredulously.

"No" Gunn said. "He told them I was to stay on for family honour or some such crap. He wrote in his will that I was to be taken care of for life. The only one who knew was Shirley."

"Shirley knew?" Doyle asked.

"I told her myself" Gunn told them, "She despised me, but the bucks never stopped."

"And now you're telling the truth?"

Gunn laughed, "Sure and I want it all printed."

"I'm not sure I can print it" Doyle said, "its just hearsay. Your word against the Wilkins'."

"How stupid do you think I am?" he said glaring at Doyle. "Get that Bible off my table. Inside the back cover you'll find a letter in Charles' handwriting. It tells everything he did."

"How?"

Gunn's smile was evil. "This time I was the one with the knife."

Shaken Angel clutched the Bible in his left hand. The whole sordid tale made him sick. Buffy was the only innocent involved in this whole mess.

Gunn motioned to Angel's sling; "You mess with them already?"

"Yeah."

"They won't bother you now."

Angel hoped that he was right. He hated every second of this mess, but he was happy in the knowledge that Buffy's name was cleared. Even if it was seventy-five years too late.

"I ain't saying I'm proud of the things I've done, but this should make up for some of it. If you see her… you say…"

Angel sighed, "I'll tell her that you told the truth."

Gunn nodded, "Get out of here. It's all in the letter."

Angel and Doyle left without saying a word.

Angel was lost in thought during the ride back to Sunnydale. The old Bible lay in his lap, within it's covers lay the proof of Buffy's innocence. His satisfaction at finally clearing her name was overshadowed by his grief that his success would take her forever beyond his reach. Doyle left Angel to his thoughts; he was preoccupied by whet they had just heard from Gunn.

They were almost back at the inn when Doyle broke the silence, "Yer saw her didn't yer? The ghost."

"What makes you think that?" Angel countered.

Doyle just looked at him; "Can't yer just tell me the truth?"

Angel hesitated and then shrugged. "If I tell you, you have to promise that you won't tell anyone… not even Cordy. I don't want the world to know I got my lead from a ghost."

"Damn" Doyle shook his head, looking even more dazed. "What in the hell is going on?"

"I wish I could tell you, but even I don't understand" Angel said thinking about his upcoming separation from Buffy.

Why did he have to be the one to help her? Why had he finally found true love with a woman he could never have? And why did it have to hurt so much?

Doyle parked in front of the inn. "I don't think I'm gonna come in" he told Angel. "I think I'm going to go home and get drunk."

Angel didn't urge him to stay. He had his own mission, one he dreaded. "Are you going to print the article?" he asked climbing out.

Doyle nodded, "As soon as I can figure out how to word the damn thing."

"You'll need this" Angel said handing him the Bible.

"Thanks."

"See you, Doyle" Angel told him, "Be careful."

"Maybe I should say that to yer."

They both knew that Shirley Adams-Wilkins knew the truth, but Angel didn't care he just needed to see Buffy.

Giles was just walking into the lobby when he came inside. "So you and Doyle are back from your secret mission" he commented, "Were you successful?"

"Yeah. I promise I'll tell you all about it later" Angel said thinking about how patient his uncle had been.

Giles saw pain in his eyes and didn't press him for details. "You need some rest," was all he said, "Does your arm hurt?"

Angel shook his head; "It's fine."

"Go upstairs and rest" Giles ordered, not believing Angel.

"Okay" Angel agreed, trying not to sound too eager to be alone. "I'll be in my room… if you need me."

Giles nodded watching him with concern. "Are you sure that you're all right?"

"I'm sure, Uncle Rupert" he said knowing that he was lying, "Aren't I always."

Angel felt his uncle watching him as he left the lobby, but he didn't look back. He was concerned that Giles might realise that he wasn't all right, that he may never be all right again. He headed straight to his room, thinking that Buffy would be there waiting for him, impatient to hear his news. He hoped he was given the chance to say goodbye, to touch her, to kiss her, to tell her that he'd miss her, that he'd never forget her and how he'd never ever stop loving her. She wasn't in his room when he entered.

"Buffy?" Was she there watching him? "Buffy, I've found what you were hoping for. Doyle and I have proof of your innocence." There was no response. He looked around, but there was no one there. "Buffy?" he said again, "Are you here? I need to talk to you." Angel sank down on the edge of his bed, his head bent and the pain of his injury mixing with the aching of his heart. "Buffy" he whispered, "Don't leave me like this."

Angel still expected Shirley Adams-Wilkins to refuse to see him, when he showed up on her doorstep that evening. He found her sitting in a chair, with her son the mayor right beside her.

Angel looked at her, "I guess this means that you were expecting me?"

She nodded, "Charles Gunn called this afternoon, to talk about your visit. He wanted me to know all about it."

"What's going on here?" the mayor complained. "Why would you want to visit Gunn, O'Connell? Why do you want to destroy my family?"

"I don't" Angel replied, "Or I didn't until someone dropped a bench on me."

"What?" the mayor asked, "You can't think we had anything to do with it?"

Angel looked at Shirley, "How much does he know?"

She just sat there with the same expression on her face. "Nothing, I am the only one who knows the truth."

"So you were the one…"

"I asked that you be warned off… not injured" she cut in.

"Who?"

"The son of someone I once knew" Shirley said, "It isn't the first favour he's done for me."

The mayor stared at her in disbelief, "Mother?"

"Sit down, Richard. This won't take long." Shirley drew in a deep breath, "How much do you want?"

Angel glared at her, "You think that I want money?"

"Why else? I had you investigated, you do need it."

"Mother, what is going on?" the mayor demanded. "What does O'Connell have to do with Charles Gunn."

Shirley sighed, "You need to know, since you will probably have to support Mr. O'Connell like I had to support Charles Gunn."

Angel waited to hear her explanation. "My father murdered Elizabeth Summers and the bootlegger" she said. "He covered it up and later killed Xander Harris, who had been his partner. Charles Gunn knew the truth and blackmailed my father. I found out when it was my turn to pay."

The mayor was shocked into silence.

Angel concentrated on Shirley. "You didn't care that an innocent person was killed and her reputation ruined?"

"I didn't know her" she replied. "I couldn't let my father's good name be ruined."

"Did you cause trouble for Doyle when he started his book about the murder?"

Shirley hesitated for a moment, "I only made it clear that the locals didn't want to see their dirty laundry on the front page." Shirley looked at her son; "I will pay for Mr. O'Connell's and Mr. Doyle's silence."

"No" Angel told her, "You won't. I don't want your blood money. I just came here to let you know that the story will be printed in the Sunnydale Daily, worded the way Charles Gunn told it to us. We have a letter written by your father as proof."

"You… you are printing it?"

"Yeah."

"Why? It will destroy my family."

"No one will blame your family" Angel said.

"It'll destroy my father's name and mine." She looked at his arm, "Are you going to press charges?"

"No" Angel told her, "I just want this over. Sunnydale is my home and I have an inn to restore."

"Does that mean…"

"I want people to know the truth… the article will be printed."

Shirley just sat there, "Richard, please escort Mr. O'Connell to the door and be polite. As Sunnydale's mayor, you must support the local business owner's."

Buffy still wasn't there when he returned from the Wilkins estate. While he waited for her, he told the whole story to his uncle and Cordy. He naturally left out the Buffy bits, saying only that he'd had a feeling that something was wrong with the legend.

"That's fascinating" Giles said when Angel had completed the story. "You solved a seventy-five year old mystery and unmasked a murderer. You must feel just like Sherlock Holmes."

Actually all Angel felt was tired and empty. "It wasn't exciting, Uncle Rupert. I just did some research."

"And risked your life" Cordy pointed out. "I can't believe that you're letting the old biddy off with it. She should be in jail…"

"What?" he asked when she stopped. "I wouldn't have to testify… would I?" Cordy said panicked.

"No" he reassured her, "I'm not pressing charges. It's over." Over, the word echoed in his mind. Was it over? Was Buffy gone already? Had she left without saying goodbye? "I think I'm going to take a walk" Angel told them, "I need some fresh air." To his relief no one accompanied him. They must've thought he needed to be alone. But that wasn't true, he just needed to be with Buffy.

He walked slowly along the garden path, in the dark. It was after midnight, so it was February fourteenth… Valentine's Day. It was… would've been Buffy's one-hundredth birthday. He walked to the end of the path where he'd first felt that cold feeling, the place where he'd turned and saw her watching him. He saw nothing now, but emptiness with caused him more sadness.

"Buffy," he whispered to the darkness, "I miss you."

"Angel?" At first he thought that he'd imagined her voice. But then he heard it again. "Angel?"

He turned around and saw her standing on the path. His sense of relief was overwhelming. "Buffy" he said stepping closer to her. "I thought you weren't coming back."

Her smile was sad. "I know what you did for me. I just couldn't go without telling you how grateful I am… and I had to say goodbye."

Angel had wanted the chance to say goodbye, but it hurt so much he wondered if he'd live through it. He wasn't ready to let her go. "I…" he choked, unable to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat.

"You're a special man, Angel O'Connell," she whispered. "I don't think anyone else would've helped. You risked so much."

"All I did was ask some questions" he replied.

"I know you're going to do great with my inn" she told him, "I have a feeling."

"Buffy…"

"I'm going now. It'll only hurt more if I stay."

He grabbed her hand with his good one. "Do you feel any different? Or know where you're going?"

"No" she said, "But I don't belong here anymore. It's your home now."

"I don't think I can stay here without you" he told her. "I'll miss you too much."

Buffy was upset, "You have to stay here. You promised me."

"I don't care about that… only you." Her tightened his grip on her, "I wish I could go with you."

"No" she told him softly, "Don't ever say that. You have your entire life ahead of you, don't waste it."

He looked at her; "I love you."

"Angel… I can't…" she said on the verge of tears.

"I love you" he repeated, "I wish…"

Buffy understood what he meant. "So do I" she said, "I'd give anything to stay here with you. But not like this… with us in two different worlds. It wouldn't be fair to either one of us."

"But you'd stay if you could?" he asked.

She looked at him, "Of course… I love you."

He pulled her close and held onto her as though his life depended on it. Angel wondered why love was so good and yet so painful.

It started so subtly at first, that Angel didn't notice that anything was different. Then he felt a strange warmth spreading through Buffy, like the barrier that was separating them was peeling away. He stroked her cheek and then slowly he moved his fingers down her throat, finding her pulse beating there.

"Angel?" she whispered, her voice sounded normal and not far away like it usually did.

"Buffy" he said watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath that she took; he could barely believe what was happening.

"I feel… Angel, I'm…" she brushed her hair out of her face. "I think I'm alive."

"Buffy!" he said grabbing her and kissing her, ignoring the pain shooting up and down his injured arm.

She broke the kiss, "How is this possible?"

"Does it really matter?" he replied.

"No."

"Good." Angel touched her all over.

She was alive, he didn't know or care how. All he knew was that now that he had her he was never letting her go. "I love you," he said before kissing her again.

"I love you too" she replied happily.

"Are you going to stay with me?" he asked.

"For the rest…" her voice broke and then steadied. "For the rest of my life. However long that may be."

He pulled her back into his arms and kissed once again.

It was late when they snuck inside the inn, hand in hand. Everyone else was asleep as they snuck up the stairs. They closed themselves in Angel's bedroom, trying to be quiet.

"How are we going to explain who I am?" she asked him.

"We'll think of something" he assure her, pulling her close, "Later."

"Uh… Angel, I've never…"

Angel looked down at her, "We don't have to."

"No. I want to… I'm just nervous" she told him.

"Don't worry. We'll take it slow."

Buffy slid her arms around his neck and then eyed his bandage. "What about your arm?" she asked, "You'll hurt it again."

"I don't care" Angel said trying to kiss her.

"I do" she told him, "It's my job to take care of you now."

He laughed, "Buffy, this is the twenty-first century. Women don't 'take care' of men like that anymore."

She frowned, "People still fall in love, don't they?"

"Some do."

"Then they should take care of each other" she replied, "That's what love's all about."

"I love you Buffy."

"I love you too."

He lowered her slowly to the bed and not much more than whispers were spoken for a long time.

Buffy lay snuggled against Angel's left shoulder. His arm was killing him, but he chose to ignore the pain, in favour of having Buffy in his arms. He looked at her and suddenly asked, "Marry me."

Buffy looked at him, "How…"

"We'll find a way… just say yes."

Buffy smiled, "Yes."

"Good" Angel replied kissing her. "By the way, did you know it's your birthday?"

"It is?"

"Yeah. Happy Valentine's Day… and Happy Birthday" he told her.

Buffy groaned, "I don't even want to think about how old I am."

He laughed, "We'll start counting at twenty-six. I'm still having trouble with believing this."

"Hey, I was the one who was dead for seventy-five years" she replied. "I know it's crazy, but it feels like it's meant to be."

"Yeah. Definitely meant to be," he said kissing her again. He snuggled closer to her, "I'm afraid to go to sleep. What if I wake up and you're gone?"

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you wake up."

And she was.

Buffy's white dress was wrinkled and dirty, so she refused to wear it to meet his uncle and Cordy. So Angel dug out an old black sweat suit for her to wear. The shirt hung to her knees and the pants swallowed her. When she looked in the mirror and saw herself she laughed.

"Do I look like a modern woman or a modern boy?"

"You look adorable," Angel assured her as he got dressed.

"Your family is going to think that you dragged home someone off the street" she told him.

"My family is going to love you," he said kissing her.

They had prepared their story and now it was time to test it. Buffy couldn't remember being more nervous. Giles and Cordy were already eating when Angel came into the dining room.

"We thought we'd let you sleep" Giles told him and then he saw Buffy hiding behind Angel. "We… oh! Why… who…"

"Uncle Rupert, Cordelia… this is my fiancée Buffy."

Giles was staring at Buffy with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. "Your fiancée. She looks like…"

Angel never faltered, "Buffy is the great-granddaughter of Thomas Summers, Hank Summers brother. That makes her a distant cousin of Elizabeth Summers. We met when she helped me with the research on the inn."

"You're engaged?" Giles was shocked.

Buffy stepped forward and took Giles' hand. "Please forgive us for springing this on you, Mr. Giles" she said. "But there were… circumstances that kept me from meeting you sooner."

"Of course" Giles said, "I was just taken by surprise."

They spent the morning telling their story, improvising when it was necessary. Buffy and Angel felt bad about lying to everyone, but if the truth ever got out they'd never have a normal life.

"It's such a shame that the airline lost your luggage" Giles said to Buffy.

"Yes" Buffy agreed guiltily. "All I have is a dress and I can't go around wearing Angel's clothes."

"You can borrow some of my things" Cordy offered.

"Thank you" Buffy said smiling. She had high hopes that she and Cordy would become friends.

Doyle stopped by a little while later with a draft of the article. Cordy as usual, busied herself elsewhere after showing Doyle into the sitting room. Doyle was introduced to Buffy and given the same story that they'd given to everyone else. Although he seemed to accept it, he kept looking at Buffy. He didn't stay long and he took Angel aside just as he was leaving.

"Something tells me I don't wanna know the truth about Buffy."

"Trust me" Angel told him, "It's better if you don't."

"That's what I thought." Doyle looked around, "Uh… Angel… anything you need… say papers, certificates… well, I still have some sources."

"Thanks. I'll probably be giving you a call.' Doyle nodded and gave Buffy one last look as he left. "It's been a hell of an adventure O'Connell," he said.

Angel smiled at his friend and pulled Buffy close, "The adventure is just beginning."

THE END