The new house was quiet at night. Buffy had moved to London, much to her dismay, and agreed to live with Giles. As strained as their relationship had become in the past 41 days, she knew it would be best for Dawn. Since the potentials were scattered all over now, she no longer felt the need to patrol at night. She saved that for the nights where her pain would overcome her, which, quite honestly was most nights. She no longer felt the rush slaying used to provide for her, now it was just an outlet to relived the anger and hurt built up inside her.

She missed him. It was obvious to everyone, and they all tried to comfort her. But, it was always a waste of their time. She had lost 20 pounds in the 41 days since Sunnydale had been destroyed. She forced herself to eat when in the presence of Dawn, but otherwise skipped all meals. Her eyes had heavy bags underneath them, and she had a blank, glossy stare.

She had spent almost every night lying in her new bed, curled up with his black t-shirt. She had found it on the bus after the final battle, and snatched it before anyone could use it as a bandage. His scent was fading fast from the clothing, but she still clung to it for dear life at night. It was all she had of him. She had asked Willow to help with a resurrection spell, but realized that she couldn't put him through what her friends had put her through when they had brought her back.

Buffy knew how bad she looked, but she felt as if her soul had died along with Spike. The only thing she cared about was that Dawn was taken care of. As much as she hated Giles for what he had conspired to do with Robin Wood, she knew he would take care of Dawn as if he were her father. She spent her days lounging around the house in her sweats and watching Passions reruns on one of the channels that played American soaps. As sad as she was, watching Passions would always make her smile, even if the smile was faint and only for a moment.

Willow and Xander lived in the house along with Buffy, Dawn, and Giles. The house was twice the size of Buffy's house in Sunnydale, and they thought it would be best if they were all together for the first few months until everything had gotten back to normal; or at least somewhat normal. She hated the fact that everyone stared at her when she would come down from her room. She knew what they were thinking. Dawn was the only one who supported and accepted Buffy's feelings. The rest felt that she needed to get over him and move on with her life… And she somewhat resented them for that.

Living in London made it hard for Buffy to leave the house. She turned every single time she heard a man say the words 'love' or 'pet.' She turned every single time she saw a man with bleached blonde hair. She turned every single time she saw a man in a black duster. She always knew they weren't him, but she couldn't help but feel the absolute slightest bit of hope, followed by an enormous amount of pain when each man turned out to be just a stranger.

She had called Angel the day before and gotten the information she wanted. It took a while to get it out of him, but finally he caved. He knew how much she was hurting, and didn't want to make things worse by denying her wish. So here she was, standing in front of a beautiful two-story home that almost looked abandoned. Angel had given her the address, along with what directions he could remember. He had told her that no one had lived in the house since the mysterious disappearance of Anne Pratt and her son William. The house, however, was now owned by living relatives. Angel informed Buffy that the last he heard was that one family member was living in the home, but had kept everything in Anne's room and William's room exactly how they were. Buffy had decided to pose as a distant relative, interested in her ancestors, in hopes of finding anything she could of his. She just wanted something of his that had meaning. Standing in front of the house, Buffy let out a deep sigh and proceeded to the front door.