Neil pulled her around to face him. “England? You’re not American?”

Buffy frowned; insulted by the implication. “I was adopted, I grew up here. I’m an all-American girl!”

“Adopted! Your adoptive parents are muggles right? Non-magical?” He was beginning to look worried.

“Oh yeah… my parents and magic… like two non-mixy things.” Buffy answered, not understanding the problem he was having with the fact that she was adopted.

Neil worriedly looked around for someone to help before realising that they weren’t at the Bureau, obviously knowing that there was something wrong, but was unequipped to deal with it without a superior. He turned to the goblin. “Do you have any owls here?”

“Certainly sir” He shouted an order in a strange language to a small goblin, who rushed off through a set of double doors labelled ‘External Post’ “I assume the lady will not be withdrawing funds today?”

“No, sorry… no time” He was frantically looking at his watch, ignoring the large clock face behind the counter. It was quickly approaching 1 pm. Buffy realised for the first time that she must have missed a whole night while unconscious. The small goblin returned with a large barn owl perched on his shoulder. Neil leaned across the counter and snatched a piece of parchment from in front of the astonished goblin, who quickly handed over his quill before its feathers were ruined by it also being grabbed out of his hand. He scribbled something on the parchment and gave it to the owl, muttering instructions in its ear before throwing it into the air. The owl squawked, affronted by Neil’s treatment, and in retaliation dive-bombed him on its way out of the door.

Neil grabbed Buffy’s hand and dragged her out of the door. Buffy followed bemusedly as he rushed her back to the entrance of the Bureau. Soon he was pulling her along the many corridors and stairwells of the Bureau itself, until they jolted to a stop outside a door, labelled in fine gold lettering ‘Darren Parkin, Senior Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Department of International Magical Cooperation’. With a quick knock, Neil barged into the room and breathlessly asked “Did you get my letter?”

Behind a large desk, sitting in a narrow high backed chair that seemed to exaggerate his thin build was a man who could only be Darren Parkin. Buffy recognised him as one of the judges at her Trial, the younger one who had seemed slightly cowed by the company he was keeping. Now, in his own office, he was in his element. With a closer look, the discrete signs of age, whether from mature years or overwork, were more obvious than they had been at the hearing. It was there in the occasional streak of grey in his black hair, the faint lines on his face and, most of all, the intense wisdom that could be seen in his dark ageless eyes that reminded Buffy so much of her lost love. He assessed her with such an intensity that she felt as if he could see straight through her and expose her deepest darkest secrets for all to see.

“Yes.” He answered Neil without taking his steady gaze off Buffy “Do you know why this is important?”

“N…” Buffy cleared her throat, still drawn in by his mesmerising eyes “No, Sir” she forced her gaze away and started to examine the geometric patterns in his plush green carpet with great interest.

“Why don’t you take a seat? Edgeware, would you fetch us some drinks?” Buffy looked around in confusion until she remembered that Neil’s surname was Edgeware “Tea? Coffee?”

“Um… tea would be fine, thanks” after spending a great deal of the past two years in the company of Giles, a few of his habits had started to rub off on her, much to the enjoyment of Xander when he caught her drinking tea. When Neil left them, the imposing man smiled reassuringly at her. “We haven’t been properly introduced, Darren Parkin.” He stretched his arm over the table. Buffy looked at it for a second, then started and grasped his hand “Buffy Summers”

“I’m sorry that you had to rush to get here, but Neil was quite right in thinking this couldn’t wait until Monday. I was told you were born in England?”

“Yeah” Buffy once again replied.

“And you were adopted?” His soothing voice calmed her of the worries she had been having on the run to get here.

“Uh, yeah. When I was a baby.”

“And your parents are both Muggles?”

“Yes.” Neil returned with the tea. After he served it out, he stood warily in the corner, hoping for a chance to stay and help the mysterious girl whose sadness was palpable.

“That will be all, Edgeware.” Buffy was surprised to see Neil scowl at the chair, but when he was admonished with an angry “Neil” from his superior, he reluctantly left the room. “My nephew.” Mr Parkin explained “He doesn’t always like it that I give him no advantages for being a relation.” Buffy finally started to relax as she realised that she wasn’t in any trouble. This man wouldn’t be complaining to her about his nephew if he was angry at her.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know why I’m here.” She gulped down some of her tea, anything to avoid looking at the man before her.

“Ah… yes, well that’s really an unfortunate combination of some International Laws, which I’m sorry to say that I’ve been unable to change.” He shook his head, obviously chastising himself for an inability on his part. “Basically, they say that a wizard or witch requires special permission to change their nationality. Muggle adoption or marriage to a muggle isn’t enough; you have to petition your case to the International Confederation of Wizards.”

Buffy frowned, trying to grasp what the wizard was trying to tell her “So… you’re saying I’m not American, ‘cause I was born in England.”

He smiled pityingly at her “Unless you can prove both your biological parents are American?” he looked almost hopeful that she would have a gem of information that would fix the whole problem.

Buffy shook her head and bitterly replied “We don’t even know who they are.” She paused and looked at him warily, wondering if she should tell him more about her adoption “I’m a foundling.”

He looked at her. Confusion wasn’t an expression that suited him well. “If I might ask, how did a British foundling get adopted by American parents?”

“’cause I wasn’t found in England, I was found in L.A.” She smiled to herself cynically. “And the next question coming is how do I know I’m English right?” She looked up with her eyes filled with the wariness of a trapped animal; he nodded slightly, not wanting to scare her into silence. “They left me on the steps of an orphanage in L.A, with a British birth certificate and this” she pulled the key out of her pocket and put it on the table.

“Weren’t their names on the birth certificate?” Buffy snorted “And get busted for abandoning a kid? Of course not. Just my time and date of birth, and my name” she suddenly realised that she had been absentmindedly caressing the key in her hand, and closed her fist on it; the whiteness of her knuckles showed the force with which she had tightened her grip, though any pain from the metal digging into her hand was invisible from her now impassive face.

“So what happens now? I go to this confedy-thingy?”

He cleared his throat, obviously moved by the emotion portrayed in Buffy’s voice during the tale “Yes, but, you cannot legally stay in this country without permission. Sadly, as an untrained witch, you are unlikely to be granted acceptance back in. Magic can become quite dangerous when left unchecked.”

“But why does it matter? If they hadn’t found the birth certificate, everyone would’ve thought I was American anyway.” Buffy began to look worried; she was already being forced into a new world, now she had to go to a whole different country too. The land of tweed and librarians no less.

“I’m sorry.” He truly did look saddened by her predicament “We have a connection to the muggle telephone lines in the Bureau, do you want to call your mother?”

Buffy felt a surge of love and gratitude towards her adoptive mother left over as ever from thoughts of how, while her biological parents had abandoned her, Joyce Summers had saw Buffy as a baby and immediately stated that this was the child they’d wanted to raise as their own. But then the memories of how she had left the house filtered back, Joyce had dealt with enough heartache and pain from choosing Buffy. She didn’t need the hassle of finding out that her daughter was going to be deported. She shook her head firmly and looked at Mr Parkin with tears in her eyes.

“When will I be going?”

“As soon as possible. Do you have any belongings you’d like to collect?”

Buffy thought back to the holdall of battle stained clothes and weapons in her small flat.

“No. I’ve got nothing left.”

Nothing left to loose... On the night she was thrown out by her mother, she thought she’d already lost everything that mattered. Now after killing her love just when he was returned to her and leaving her friends, family, every part of the world she had known behind, she was about to make the final step to truly start a new life.

Buffy stood; a new resolve in her face “Let’s go.”