God, will whatever is making that goddamned annoying sound just shut up?!

Moaning, I can feel my eyes glued shut. So tired...I spent half the night rummaging through the closet trying to find misplaced items that Willow had told me they had bought while I was in my 'coma'. Of course, this meant clothes. But what I hadn't counted on was that they had actually borrowed the stuff they bought me. Huh.

Rolling over, I can faintly recognize that irritating tapping noise. I stumble out of the plush bed, over to the window that Syrup had stepped in through yesterday. Once again, he is sitting patiently out there, his curious eyes watching me as I rip the curtains open and glare at him.

Does the stupid bird have to come so early?

I throw the window open, feeling my Slayer strength gradually return as it nearly swings off its hinge. Syrup gives a startled hoot, fluttering in the air for a moment before swooping inside the musty bedroom. It perches itself on the wooden chair again, and I see the reply that I've been expecting attached to his leg. After I take it, he gives another hoot and flies back out the window.

Miss Elizabeth Summers

Hyperion Hotel

Third Guest Bedroom, Second Floor

25 Hyperion Street

Los Angeles, California

Dear Miss Summers,

Thank you for your acceptance.

There will be a Wizard cab awaiting you outside the Hyperion Hotel at 2:00 p.m. this afternoon. The driver will be taking you to the Order of the Phoenix's Headquarters in London. The building is enchanted, and no one except the Order's members know the actual address. It cannot be located on any map, either. The cab driver has been instructed to take you to Grimmauld Place. The number that you must look for is Number 12.

This is where you will be staying indefinitely. Details such as money, clothes, food and assignments will be discussed on your arrival. Please feel free to pack what you require.

I must also warn you that this letter has been charmed to burn itself, as it has the address of the Order.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Despite the warning, I jump slightly when the paper suddenly combusts, floating in the air and burning to ashes, the orange flames dissipating once the paper was gone.

Sighing, I dust my hands and walk around the bedroom, drawing the rest of the dark drapes open, allowing some sunlight to filter through the dusty glass. So this was one of those 'top-secret-even-your-friends-or-sister-can't-know-where-you-are' missions. I hate these.

Briefly glancing at the clock, I give a little yelp when I realise exactly how late I slept in. Rushing around the room, I collect the rest of the items that I hadn't stowed in my suitcase the night before from various tables. I pause in my rush, though, when the door swings open, revealing a worn-looking Angel.

He didn't come in last night, and I can only assume that he, Wesley and Faith had had a rough slaying night. I let my eyes flick over his face momentarily, and I know that someone had informed him of my leaving. In less than a second, I could tell from the creases in his eyes and mouth that he didn't want me going.

I turn back to drag my suitcase away from the bed. Suddenly his hand's there, lifting it effortlessly from me and tilting my chin up.

Even after this long, I can still feel his pain so palpably. It's radiating in waves from him, hitting me and making me rock on my feet, almost in regret.

"Why are you going?" he asks, after what seems an eternity of gazing into hurting eyes.

I sigh and look away. He knows. He just wants to hear me say it.

"I don't belong here, Angel," I say, each word revealing a part of me that I hadn't shown anyone, not even Spike, before, "everything seemed wrong when I came back. I didn't fit. I still don't. Maybe if I can help these people, it'll help me figure out what's wrong."

I don't know why I'm even telling him this. I thought that I'd dealt with my wrongness back when I was resurrected. Apparently not.

He doesn't say anything. We stand there, each deep in thought, until he bends down to kiss my forehead.

And without a word, he's gone.

A tear slips, unbidden, out of my eye. Annoyed, I roughly brush my hand across my cheek and pick up my suitcase. I don't look back as I walk out of the room.

"Buffy! The cabby's outside!" Cordelia yells from the foyer.

Quickly, I race through the hallways, desperate find everyone and say goodbye. Except Angel. I know he's gone, we had already said our goodbye.

I find Giles and Xander, and hug them tightly, promising to write. Willow rushes into the room just as I turn around to leave and barrels into me. I can still feel her insecurity of me leaving. It wasn't just the fact that I'd just woken up. I know she's afraid that no one will be able to stop her if she returns to the black magic.

"Don't worry, Wills," I whispered to her. I couldn't find any other words to say.

She nods in understanding, hugging me tightly again, but not saying anything either. I reluctantly let go and make my way to the front, where my lone suitcase stands. They don't follow me. I didn't want them to.

Cordelia has kindly kept the door open for me, and I see a bright yellow taxi waiting outside. I give her a quick hug, just for the thought, and walk outside into the sunlight. Its warmth spreads through me, but there's a hollow in my chest that remains cold. It's a feeling that I've grown accustomed to – Mum's death, jumping off the tower, coming back, Dawnie leaving...

I open the cab door and put my suitcase in before following. The driver looks friendly enough. Greying hair, glasses, his name card on the dashboard reads Thomas Ruddy. As I shift in the seat and close the door, he speaks.

"Miss Summers, is it?" I can't help but notice how he sounds like Giles...

"Yes, that's me," I reply, resisting the urge to gaze back at the Hyperion, although I heard Cordelia shut the large doors behind me.

"Well, we're off to Grimmauld Place. I assume you know where to go. I was jus' told to drop you off at the corner," the driver says, starting the engine and pushing a few coloured buttons.

"Yeah, I know the address," I say back, more interested in the numerous buttons.

The cabby notices my curiousity and smiles, "I'm only here for the show. These taxis can actually apparate themselves. I'm jus' 'ere to show them Muggles."

Muggles? Apparate? What...?

But before I can say anything, I hear a loud pop and suddenly, we're not on Hyperion Street anymore, but apparently, Grimmauld Place, London. The street was lined with grubby houses. Some of which had broken windows, rubbish-filled lawns and peeling paint covering the walls. Wrinkling my nose, I wonder why such an important Order would hold their meetings in such a street.

"Here yer are, Miss," Thomas the cabby said, turning around with a smile.

I nod my head in thanks, grab my suitcase and leave the taxi. Just as I step out, I wonder about paying him, but before I even turn around, I hear a loud pop, and the taxi is gone.

Shaking my head, I wander down the street, looking for Number 12. Blackened windows cover the houses and it's hard to see anything through them. Passing the streetlamps, I count the numbers on the pavement that indicated the house numbers. Some of the homes don't have them. 9...10...11...13...

Wait a second.

Where's 12?

I'm standing in front of a battered fence that looks like it's about to collapse. It's a weak divider between house number 11 and 13. Hell, you'd think someone would have told me how to get to the freaking Headquarters of an all-important place.

Irritant, I think back to the letter that Albus Dumbledore sent me. Just as I remember the part about the address and its secrecy, a shabby door suddenly appears in front of me. This continues to expand until a house is squeezed in between what used to be a fence dividing two other houses. Like the others, this place is just as dilapidated.

I look at number 11 and 13. Didn't anyone feel anything?

I shrug and walk up the stone steps that had materialized. After being a Slayer for seven years, you'd think that I'd be used to this kind of thing happening. The front door has peeling black paint, with a steel serpent for a doorknocker.

Looking behind me to check that no one was watching, I rap on the old door loudly. Suddenly, I can hear a faint wailing and screeching coming from inside. I wince as the door is thrown open and the shrieking triples in volume. Standing there is one pissed off lady that I think could pass off as Willow's mum.