He'd known what he would do when Giles had told him about this day. Remembrance Day they called it in England. Veteran's Day here. A time to remember their fallen warriors. Giles had explained to him about the poppies, how they represented the boys who'd died in France during the First World War. And now, people in different parts of the world would wear a blood-red poppy on their lapels to show their respect. He didn't ask Giles where he'd gotten their poppies from. Instead, he'd pinned it on with pride.
It had been hard, letting go. Not knowing when to remember her. He didn't want it to be the anniversary of her death; after all for the others that was a day of celebration. Couldn't be her birthday, she hadn't had one, not really. Chosen July 4 so she could pretend the fireworks were for her. Any other anniversaries weren't really good ones. The day they almost got married, the day he'd asked her to marry him, even their first date, which wasn't a date. He wanted a good day. And this day had seemed right. She was a fallen warrior, dying to save the world. Nobody would know or honor her name; it wouldn't be inscribed on a piece of marble. But on this day, he could safely mourn Anyanka Emmanuel Jenkins, and nobody would know. Nobody but the man beside him.
It was right that they were the only ones to mourn her. The others hadn't been close to her, not really. But she and Giles had been business partners, and more. There were things they'd shared that Xander could never have hoped to be a part of, and that was okay. Because there were large chunks of her that were his alone.
They arrived at last. Giles had made a few phone calls and found a dawn service not far from where they were living. They gathered with a small group of others as the first rays of light pierced through the darkness, throwing a red blanket across the sky. The bugler stepped forward, his instrument already at his mouth. He began to play, the mournful sound of Taps breaking the silence of the morning air. People moved forward, laying their wreaths against the monument. Most were made of green, but there were a few sprays of red as others showed their awareness of the floral symbol of the day. Xander smiled gently, imagining Anya's awe at the profit to be made by cornering the poppy market.
They stood in silence as the sun made its climb into the heavens, reminding all that after death, life continues. Slowly the small crowd dispersed, the older man squeezing his companion's shoulder before he also left. Xander stood alone for a few minutes, then moved in the opposite direction to his home. Life did go on, and this was a working day.
It started as soon as he entered the office. Sitting in the middle of his desk was a poppy. He smiled as he lifted it, then placed it with the one he' d been wearing in a spare mug. The one in the roll of blueprint he'd taken home the night before was a bit freaky, but that soon joined the others. The two in his lunchbox was annoying. When he found three in his hardhat, he began to really get upset. What was it? A vengeance demon of poppies? No way somebody could get into all these places. Especially to put four in his locked cabinet! He sure as hell wasn't going to ask his crew. They already thought he was weird enough. Something about Sunnydale and only having one eye. But when the small bouquet arrived with no note, he decided it had to be one of the scoobies. Probably Willow, using her magic to put the poppies in places he'd find them. Giles must have told her.
Xander glanced toward the clock. He didn't have time to worry about it. It was almost eleven am. The other tradition Giles had told him. Eleven o'clock on the eleventh, the signing of armistice. And a time for one minute's silence. He'd already told his crew not to bother him. So intent on watching the clock was he, that he hadn't noticed the reduction of noise from outside. Only when there was silence, did he realize that there was not construction going on. Annoyed that they were doing this, making him miss this final moment to remember Anya, Xander stood up and stalked to his door. He froze at the sight before him.
They were all standing there, facing him. Their hats were off, and they had bowed their heads in respect. And pinned to each shirt was a bright red poppy. In front of this group of tough men was his family, each and every one of them. Poppies in their clothes, their hair, held in their hands. All of them waiting. Behind him, he heard his clock chime. As one, they all bent their heads and remembered a fallen warrior.
"Willow and Dawn did that. Told them that Anya was Xander's fiancée, and asked them to put the poppies in his office. They all volunteered to do the rest." Her voice carried from the bathroom. "They looked like they wanted to change their minds when we talked about Anya's favourite conversation."
Giles laughed. "I doubt multiple organisms is a general topic for discussion on Remembrance Day." He sighed gently. "I don't think he realized how much they think of him until that moment."
"He never does." Giles looked up as the voice drew nearer. "That's part of his charm."
"Hmm." His eyes dropped to her chest. "Now that's novel. I'm sure they've never been placed there before."
Buffy looked down. "I thought I'd keep with the day's theme."
"How do you keep them there?"
"A bit of icing sugar. They'll stay as long as it doesn't get too hot." She' d moved to the edge of the bed by now, smiling as her lover rose to meet her.
"Darn. Silk?"
Buffy shook her head. "Sugar. I pinched them off Willow's cake."
Giles dipped his head, his tongue snaking out to touch a bright red petal. "Hmm. Something for me to savor. I just love licking them slowly." He lifted her, turning her as he lay her on the bed.
Buffy pulled Giles head to her breasts. "So do I. Oh god, so do I." She frowned. "You don't think it's disrespectful, do you?"
Giles giggled. "Anya's conversation mainly consisted of two things. Money and the incredible sex she and Xander had. I think she'd find this a very fitting way to remember her." So saying, he bent his head and began to lick at the sugar treat before him.