He was in love with her, of that he was certain. In fact it was the only thing in his life that he was certain of, the foundation around which he built everything else. Healthy? Probably not, but when had anyone ever accused him of being the bleeding picture of mental health?

The door opens, interrupting his musings.

"Good morning Mr. Smith. Remember anything else for me today?"

His hand runs through bleached blonde curls in a nervous gesture, but he looks straight at the man, blue eyes earnest. "Yeah Doc, I did. 'M pretty sure she had green eyes."

A/N: If it's not clear (which is a bit difficult in drabble format sometimes) the "he/Mr. Smith" is amnesiac!Shanshu'ed!Spike. Just because.