It was the waiting … the not-knowing … that was the hardest. I was no longer residing in the "Magic Box" – Mr Rupert had moved me to their home. "Need this one handy," was his comment at the time. I loved it … I was part of a family once more and, with the arrival of young Mr Alex, I couldn’t have been happier. He’s a remarkable mix of his parents is Mr Alex. He has his mother’s spirit, her life and her joie de vivre whereas physically he is the very image of his father and has inherited Mr Rupert’s love of books and periods of quiet introspection. "Best of both worlds" his mother once called him. I think Mr Alex was about five years old at the time. I remember Mr Rupert coming home and talking about a fire in the "Magic Box." He was quite upset about it. Of course, the very word "fire" is enough to make any book shudder and, for a few days, it was absolute agony not knowing … it was almost unbearable, in fact. Finally, though, the waiting was over. Mr Rupert was going over the inventory with Anya … he was reading out a list of destroyed books … I knew it was coming, knew the inevitable had happened. When he read out Herbal's name, I felt such pain and anger … he didn't deserve such a fate … no-one knew what he'd done, no-one understood how I felt. Then … something wonderful happened. Mr Rupert stood up and walked towards me … there was an expression of such pain on his face … he gently reached out and brushed his fingers lightly across my spine. I knew then that someone DID understand. To Mr Rupert the loss of any book was abhorrent and this had hurt him so much. The touch was a reassurance, an acknowledgement, a gentle reminder that I wasn't alone … that he was there and he understood. I don't think I would have survived the next few weeks with my sanity intact if it hadn't been for Mr Rupert's constant presence. Even when he was the only person in the house, he would read aloud, his beautiful voice gently soothing away the pain.

I couldn't thank him, of course. I'd used up my only chance at communicating with him but I'd like to think that I repaid his kindness, that I helped him through one of the most agonising and painful periods of his life. A few years after Herbal's death, Mr Rupert lost his wife … lost his Buffy. I don't know the exact details … I'm not sure I really want to … I only know that there was absolutely nothing Mr Rupert could have done. I know that because enough people came by and told Mr Rupert so … not that he believed them, of course. To outsiders, Mr Rupert appeared to coping admirably … he kept the shop going, made Mr Alex his top priority, listened patiently and provided a shoulder to cry on. It was at night however, that he let the mask slip, let his feelings take over. I lost count of the number of nights I spent with Mr Rupert … he would curl up into a ball on the sofa, hugging me to his chest and sobbing. I'd never heard such pain-wracked sobs before and, not for the first time, I wished there was something I could do. I wanted to reach out to him, talk to him, comfort him … I appealed to every God and Goddess I could think of but to no avail. All I could do was be there for him, try in some way to let him know that he wasn't alone … that someone understood. With time, the pain lessened and Mr Rupert eventually found his way back … not all of him though … there was something missing. The light in his eyes had all but vanished … it had gone with Buffy - I like to think of it as a little piece of Mr Rupert that she could keep with her until he joined her once more.

She hasn't got much longer to wait … that's why everyone's gathered here, in Mr Rupert's bedroom. Willow and Tara are here, standing in a corner and hugging each other … their tear-streaked faces are evidence enough of their love and affection for Mr Rupert. Xander and Anya are holding hands, both looking dazed and shocked. Thankfully, their children are nowhere in sight … unruly mob. Mr Alex and Mr Rupert have centre-stage however. Mr Alex is holding his father's hand, his teeth are clenched with the struggle to keep his emotions in check. At a whisper from Mr Rupert, Mr Alex stands and ushers the others from the room … even now they do as Mr Rupert asks, not a word of complaint, just heartfelt looks are exchanged. Mr Alex returns to the bed, leaning close to hear his father's words. I don't want to watch this, don't want to be here but I have no choice. When Mr Rupert first became ill he insisted that I be placed in his bedroom and I've been here ever since, witnessing how weak he's become. He can barely move now and he can only speak in whispers. It's a travesty, it shouldn't happen … I don't know how humans cope with this … I don't think I could. Suddenly, Mr Rupert turns his head and looks at me. I can read the question in his eyes, I know the promise he wants me to make. I'll do it, Mr Rupert. I'll be here for Mr Alex as I was always here for you. You don't have to worry about that. I ripple my pages slightly in answer to his unspoken question and a smile crosses his face. Go on, Mr Rupert … go to Buffy … she's been waiting for you for a long time. Mr Rupert lets out a breath and then … nothing. Mr Alex grips his hand tighter, the tears now flowing unchecked. I wish I could cry … I wish I could scream at the futility of it all. Mr Rupert was the best friend I ever had and now … now he's gone. Mr Alex rises to his feet, gently letting go of his father's hand. He wipes his eyes and leaves the room … going to tell the others, no doubt. It's quiet now … too quiet. As a mark of respect, all the clocks stop … everything stops … it's as though the universe has sucked in a breath and the rest … the rest is silence.