Spike reflecting on Buffy. Set post- Gift, prior to her resurrection, but feel free to interpret it as any time you like. Spuffy is eternal.
Some is taken and interpreted from dialogue the rest is from the disturbing shadowy recesses of my mind (trust me you don't want to go there).
Disclaimer: Don't own duh, would the creative genius that is Joss Wheadon be posting fanfiction. Plus if they were mine there be much more Spuffy and Angel would be severely humiliated. Often. Though I wouldn't say no to owning Spike nudgenudge
He would always remember her eyes. So full of burden, understanding and hope. She used to look at him and the world would fade, she brought him to the place where words ran dry, but it didn't matter, they weren't needed. She was his light, his dream and she couldn't see it. No matter how often he proclaimed it, proved it, she would always react the same way "You can't love", no matter how he answered she would scoff and look at him with disdain, but her eyes always showed stubbornness self vindication and that hidden spark of hope. For what, he wasn't exactly sure, he preferred to think she wanted him to truly love her, even if she wasn't ready to know that herself. Maybe she just wanted proof that she was worthy of real love, from anyone. How he had loved those eyes, you could read her through her eyes.
They haunted him now, every night he saw the deep chestnut, vibrant greens and shimmering gold staring restlessly at him. He had known that night, he hadn't accepted it, still couldn't, but that night her eyes had shone with the determination, acceptance and grief. She had known what it might come too, though he knew she herself hadn't relised the ramification of her blood being shared. Not until it had to be out into action anyway. That very night she had accepted him, for who he was, what he was. And she had accepted him loving her; she had stopped disputing and had believed. She had too, that love was as much a part of him as his eyes were blue, and he had been happy, for one shining moment he had been happy. He had seen it and he would always remember exactly how she looked, every last detail, at that moment in stark clarity. Then it was gone. His sun had stopped shining and his world was shattered.
Now he was left hollow and cold, but he had to stay. He had made a promise and he would always keep it, the others didn't understand, they never would but as long as he kept that promise she would be here, in some semblance, she would be here.
Every night, every night he saved her, not when it counted of course, but after that. He was faster, smarter, braver and he saved her. She would smile, not the smile she had taken to wearing, the one that didn't reach her eyes, not the one everyone else thought was real but the one he knew was. She would see he had saved her and she would be happy. He always woke to the same thing, for a moment he wouldn't know; the dreams were still real enough and he would be happy. Then he would remember the one thing he wanted most in the world to forget. Her eyes, empty and dull, her eyes were never blank; they were always filled with her life, if they were empty, and her life was gone. Only when he had seen those eyes did he truly relise.
He would always remember her eyes, and he would always love them.
Even if they haunted him.