As soon as the last cars pulled away from the house, Dru marched to Spike’s room as he knew she would.  He’d left the door unlocked to save her from spraining a wrist as she tried to barge in.

“Don’t think I don’t know what time it was when you got home, young man.   Didn’t it occur to you to call me to let me know you were alright?  Anything could have happened to you!”

Spike smiled.  It was that or throw something at the woman and maybe that would come later…?  “You knew where I was, Mum.”  Fingers crossed, no lie.  “I was with a bloody nurse so if anything had happened to me I’d got the right bloke with me, hadn’t I?”

“Yes…but…but…”  Dru all but stamped her food with frustration before adopting a wheedling tone. “You should have called.  I had your breakfast all ready for you.”

“What?  You actually made breakfast?”

“Well, no…not personally, don’t be silly.  But I did tell her what to make.”

“Course you did.”  The sarcasm was lost on his mother.

“Well in future make sure you call.”

Taking a deep breath, Spike decided now was as good a time as any.  “I’ll call you every evening from Monday, okay?”

“Now you’re just being silly.  You don’t need to call me when you’re at home.”

“That’s the thing, though.  I won’t be here.”  He held up both palms to stop her speaking.  “It’s not up for debate, Mum.  I’m going to that facility the doc mentioned weeks ago.  I’m blind.  It’s permanent.” God, it hurt so much to say that aloud.  “So I need help learning how to do stuff myself.  I love you, but I can’t live here forever.  I need to try to get some sort of life back.  I’m just treading water here and I can’t do it any more.”

“But—”

“Please, Mum.  Be happy for me, yeah?  I need to do this.”

Bracing himself for a screeching protestation, to his shock her hands grasped his and squeezed. 

“Are you sure about this?  The people there—”

“Will be like me.”

“We could get someone to come here.  You don’t need to go away.”  Her voice hitched.

“I do.  I can’t go through life not able to even cook a meal or make a cup of tea.”

“But you don’t need to do that…we have household staff for that reason.”

Spike pulled his hands away.  “That’s just it, Mum.  I don’t want to live like that.  I need some independence.”

“You just want to be anywhere but here with me.  Just like when your father died – you can’t wait to get away from me.”

“This isn’t about you…it’s about me.  This is my life and I have to do this.  Can’t you just be happy that I’m trying to move on from what’s happened?”

“But I know you’re safe here with me.”

Softening his voice, Spike said, “I know that, but it’s only for a few weeks.”

“Then you’ll come back?”

“I will.”  To Sunnydale, but maybe not this house. 

“I wonder what Rupert will have to say about this?”  Dru flounced out of the room. 

Rupert, predictably, agreed that it would be a good thing for Spike to do.  Now Spike just had to tell Buffy.

Any hope of a spending his last evening in Buffy’s arms was lost as she succumbed to illness.  He told her over the telephone in the end as she ended up spending much of Sunday in bed.  She was supportive despite being upset that Spike hadn’t found out the rules regarding visitors.  He’d hung up promising to call as often as he could.

*~*~*~*

Monday morning finally arrived to find Spike’s bag packed and him waiting nervously for the transport to come to collect him.  To his utter relief, Rupert had managed to get Drusilla out of the house so Spike could avoid any clingy scenes when the vehicle arrived.

The intercom for the gates buzzed and Spike leapt half out of his skin despite expecting it.  He pushed the gate release button and waited.  As he heard the vehicle pull up in front of the house, Spike opened the door and stepped outside.

“Hi, I guess you must be William?”  The timbre of the man’s voice was so deep that Spike could almost feel the vibrations in his own chest.

“I prefer Spike, but yeah, that’s me.  I’ll just get my bags.”

“I’m Mike, but let me get the bags for you.”

“Oh, okay.” Spike stepped back to allow the man to enter the hallway.

“You want the guitar to come along too?” 

“Yes, as long as it’s allowed.”

The man laughed.  “You’re not going to prison, you know.”

“Suppose not.”  Now the moment had arrived, all Spike wanted to do was to run back to the familiar room and lock the door.

“I’ll just put these in the trunk, then I’ll help you in the car.”

“Thanks.”  Spike pulled the door closed once Mike had passed him and stood as he heard the trunk being opened.

Mike glanced up at Spike as he slammed the lid down, seeing the clenched jaw and tense posture.  The facility was one of the best, but it was going to be a lot different living there to in these luxurious surroundings.

“If you take a step or two forward you’ll find the car.  You need to go to your left a little to find the door handle.”

Spike flushed as he fumbled his fingers along the side of the car before he found the handle.  He climbed into the front passenger seat, managing to get the seatbelt fastened before Mike turned the ignition.

“Okay.  Off we go.”

Mike gave up on the small-talk after fifteen minutes of monosyllabic responses.  That suited Spike just fine.  He rested his head on the window and closed his eyes, trying to still the too rapid rhythm of his heart.

“Sandar Lodge,” announced Mike as he drove the car up the drive to the entrance.  “I’ll walk you to the desk then take your luggage up to your room and leave you to get registered in.”

“Thanks.”

As Spike held the other man’s elbow and concentrated on not tripping on the unfamiliar steps, he wondered what the building was like.  Was it old – well, old for California?  Or was it a modern featureless box?  So much information was lost to him without his sight and he truly wondered if it was possible to get through a day without mourning its loss acutely.

“Hello, Cordelia.  This is Mr. Pratt,” said Mike before adding, “The counter is right in front of you.”

“Spike.  God, don’t call me Mr. Pratt.”

Cordelia laughed, but it sounded a little fake to Spike.  “Spike it is then.  Welcome to Sandar Lodge.  I do hope your stay will be useful to you.”

She proceeded to chat endlessly as she took Spike’s details and handed him the key to the room he’d be staying in. 

“I’ll show you around and then you can go up and get settled in.  Lunch is served at noon and then group therapy will begin after that.  It’s a great way to get to know the others.”

Spike’s Englishness cringed at the words 'group therapy'.  Therapy was bad enough but to be expected to bare all to strangers…?  He could think of nothing worse.  She escorted him to the dining room first, then backtracked with him to the staircase.  His room was the third on the left.  By then Spike was beginning to zone out her babble, but the last words she said as she turned away with a waft of her overpowering perfume caused him to go rigid.

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

“I said, your roommate, is already in there.  He’s a total sweetie.  I’m sure you’ll get along really well.”

“Roommate?  I thought we were here to learn to be independent, not share a bloody room.” 

“Sorry, Fred thinks it’s for the best.  She’ll see you in the group session after lunch.”

Spike’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times without a sound passing his lips.  After a moment, he took a deep breath and opened the door.  How the fuck was he supposed to know where everything was?  He half-heartedly swung his cane, but connected with nothing.

“Hi.  The name’s Finn, Riley Finn.  You must be W—”

“Spike.  I’m Spike, okay?”

“Spike. Got it.”  Riley’s voice held an amused tone.

“What’s so bloody funny?” 

“Nothing.”  Riley snorted.  “Just my granddaddy had a dog named Spike.  Real good hunting dog too.”

“Wow, that’s good to know.”  Spike did his utmost not to let his smile show in his voice, but failed.  “Uh…don’t suppose you know where my bed is, do you?”

“I reconnoitred the room before you got here.  The beds are against each side wall.  I took the left one.  There’s a wardrobe at the bottom of the bed and a side table with a lamp on it.  The bathroom is on your side of the room too.  Sorry.”

“No worries.  First come and all that.”

Spike reached out with his cane, taking small uncertain steps until it tapped against the wooden wardrobe.  Moving with more confidence, he found the bed and sat on it, unsure what else to do.

“Uh…so what do we do now?”

“I dunno.  I put my kit away.”

“Kit.  Reconnoitre.  What are you?  A soldier?”

“Was.”  There was no humour in Riley’s voice now.  “Was a soldier, now…well I’m not sure what the hell I am.”

“I hear you.”  Spike nodded.

Silence stretched out between them and neither knew what to say to break it, so it was with no small measure of relief that they heard the bell go for lunch.

“I guess that’s us,” said Spike, standing up.  “Er…do you want to go first?  We’ll end up colliding in the doorway, otherwise.” 

“Sure.” 

Spike waited for Riley to pass him, then walked out into the corridor.  He stayed behind Riley as they walked down the stairs and to the dining room. Hearing the cacophony of voices almost made Spike turn back, unsure he could deal with this experience at all. 

“Don’t just stand there.  Come on in.  Find yourself a table—”

“How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Just walk forward and you’ll find the table.  We just have one large one here, and the house rules are that the first people in go to the farthest seats at the table.  You two are the last to arrive, so you have the nearest seats.”

Gritting his teeth, Spike stepped forward until his cane tapped against a chair and sat in it with relief. 

“I’m Rachel, by the way.  I’ll be serving your meal.”

“Spike,” he mumbled, keeping his head down as if he could see his hands twisting the strap on his cane.  He hadn’t been there more than an hour and he hated it. 

After safely negotiating the meal, which to his relief was sandwiches, and not joining in the rather stilted conversation, Spike duly went with the others to the lounge to begin the first session.  Once they were all settled in the various armchairs and sofas that were spread in a large oval in the centre of the room, a new voice made itself known.

“Hello, everyone.  My name is Dr. Winifred Burkle.  Fred.  Welcome to Sandar Lodge.  I know you’re all probably feeling a little overwhelmed by it all at the moment.”  There were a couple of self-conscious chuckles.  “So what I want to do today is for us to take it in turn to introduce yourselves to the others.  I’ll go first.  You know my name, and I’m guessing that I don’t need to tell you where I’m originally from?” 

More chuckles.  Her Texan drawl was unmistakeable. 

“Well, I’m married to Wesley.  He’s English like you, William.”  She smiled in his direction, it fading when she saw how tense he looked.

“Spike.  I’m known as Spike.”  He sincerely hoped it would be the last time he had to say it.

“Why don’t you go first then, Spike?  Tell us a little about yourself.”

“Uh…okay.  I’m twenty-four.  English, as you know.  Um…” 

“Go on,” prompted Fred, gently.

“Er…I studied English Lit at Uni.  I wasted my time once I graduated, I suppose.  Thought I’d be a teacher, but got fed up of that sort of environment by the time I graduated.  So I dossed about working in a record shop.”  He gave a ghost of a smile.  “I thought it was great.  I got free tickets to go see bands live.  Until…”  He waved a hand towards his eyes, then snorted remembering that of the eleven people in the room only one would be able to see it.  “Car crash.  Woke up blind.  Here I am.” 

“Gee, that’s tough, losing it all of a sudden like that.”  A woman’s voice piped up from the far side of the room.

“Would you like to go next, Maureen?” asked Fred.

“Sure.  Unlike Spike, my sight went gradually over the last ten years or so…”

Each in turn told their story, until by the end of the session, Spike knew that only he and his roommate, Riley, had no vision at all.  The others were classed as blind but retained a little poor sight, such as tunnel vision.  Spike envied them their lighter world, even though it still badly affected their lives.  The ages ranged from Spike’s twenty-four years to Maureen’s sixty three.  Diseases had claimed the sight of all but Spike and Riley, who was blinded when injured in an ambush in Afghanistan.  Spike wondered if that was the main reason that they’d been put together.  Both robbed of sight in one fell swoop. 

Spike couldn’t believe they’d been talking for four hours by the end of the session.  Fred announced that they were free to explore the facility until dinner at six sharp. 

“Uh…Fred?”  Spike said as they began to file out of the room.

“Yes?”

“Does this place have a garden?”

“Yes, it does.  Just go left out of this room.  Follow the corridor as it goes round a corner to the right, then the patio doors will be on the left and will be open.  Don’t worry if you get lost, we have plenty of staff that will be watching out for you until you get your bearings.”

“Thanks.”  He couldn’t help the bitter tone of his voice.  The thought of strangers watching to see if he made a mistake made him cringe.

“Are you okay?”  Fred rested her hand on his arm.

“Yeah, ‘course I am.  Just need some fresh air.”

He was aware of the doctor’s gaze on his back as he made his way down the corridor.  Outside, he discovered a paved area with seating and he safely negotiated it before stepping onto the grass.  After several strides he sat down, running his hand through his hair as he let out a sigh. 

Was coming here the right decision?  He guessed only time would tell.  But right now he couldn’t think of anything worst than sitting and talking about being blind all sodding day.