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.

PROLOGUE

‘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.

Part 1

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."

"Neither 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 been married to.

PART 2

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.

PART 3

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.

PART 4

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.

PART 5

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.

PART 6

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.

PART 7

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.

PART 8

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 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.

PART 9

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.

Go to Part 10