God, she looked so pale.  He should be used to it by now, her frailty, watching the weakness steal over her once athletic body.  It made him ache to remember her strength.

 

He watched as her eyelids fluttered in her sleep, indicating her dream state.  He hoped that they weren't nightmares as was so often the case lately. 

 

He took her hand gently so as not to wake her.  Turning it, he exposed her palm and traced the lifeline he found there.  So short, so short a time left.  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, letting his lips linger for just a moment.

 

Slowly he brought her hand back down, laying it lightly on the bed.  He stood, his duster swirling about him, and made his way out of the room.  The beeping echo of the machines and her soft huffs of breath were all the noise that followed him.

 

***

 

"I'm going.  I'll convince him.  No worries, luv."  Spike spoke softly, but with as much confidence as he could muster.

 

"I can't let my baby die, Spike."  Joyce worried at her bottom lip, trying not to let the tears that pooled in her eyes fall.

 

"She won't," Spike reassured her, his hand stealing out to grace her shoulder, giving comfort.  "I won't let that happen.  Buffy and I have been mates since my da flew us over that bloody pond.  I'm not about to let her leave me now."

 

"Thank you, Spike," Joyce whispered, losing the battle and wiping at the waterfall of tears.

 

"I'll make him understand.  Don't worry." 

 

Neither of them chose to bring up the fact that this was their last chance.  That even if he agreed to donate; he wouldn't necessarily be a match.  For now they clung to hope.  It was all they had left.