Disclaimer: Buffy and everything in Buffy Belongs to Joss Whedon. I own nothing.
Author's Note: Thanks to the amazing, superb, wonderful WileyDairyGnome for the idea and for being a devoted G/J shipper!
Keep
The graveyard was far too quiet, Rupert Giles reflected as he walked through rows of gravestones. In normal towns, cemeteries were supposed to be silent, sacred places of mourning and grief, but Sunnydale was anything but ordinary. There were usually at least a couple of vampires lurking about, but there was nothing there tonight. It was as if the entire town was holding its breath in anticipation of the events that would occur tomorrow.
Those events were the reason that Rupert was here tonight. This might be his last night on Earth, and he wanted to visit this grave one more time. He didn't know exactly why, but it seemed proper to visit the grave of his love. He could be joining her in death the next day.
Rupert took a deep breath as he passed the familiar tiny pond. Looking around, he realized that he hadn't been there in a while. He had visited often during the months that had followed her death, and had made a point to visit at least once a year when he had started to heal and being at her grave no longer helped.
The white tombstone came into view, and he halted in front of it. It was a plain grave, with only her name, Jennifer Calendar, spelled out in bronze letters. The willowy plant behind it had grown into a large bush, and had scattered leaves all over the top of it.
Rupert brushed the leaves off, and then simply stared at the stone for a while. It was a reminder of a dark time. Not as dark as this one, but people had died. She had died.
But she had lived once, too.
He allowed himself to remember the simple joy of being truly in love, and the simple thrill of being truly loved right back.
He remembered Mexican food and football games, the soot on her cheek and the happiness shining in her eyes.
He remembered monster trucks and the Forrester First Edition, and her teasing smile as she quipped about his tweed jackets.
He remembered a time when he was "England" and "Snobby", and when she was "That Dreadful Calendar Woman".
He remembered when their little Scooby Gang had been like a family, with them as the parents and the kids as their children.
He remembered being happy.
There were less pleasant memories at the back of his mind; champagne and opera, a staircase strewn with roses and candles. He pushed them away. He was standing next to the grave of the woman he had loved, knowing that he and everyone he cared about could easily die tomorrow.
It was better to keep those thoughts at bay.
For now, he let himself be happy.