A/N: Semi-spoilers for 7.22. It's a spoiler if you've read the spoilers. So don't read if you don't want to be spoiled for the Finale!
Summary: A little speculation on what Spike was dreaming of in the middle of Episode 7.22. Speculation due to the Scoobies' discussion on shopping at the Sunnydale mall pre & post final battle (esp. discussion of shoes) and cross-referenced with Spike's random quote.
It was a dream, he knew that. Not real. But he couldn't help feeling the fire…
Wherever he was, he couldn't move. It was like he'd been tied to a blazing cross. Crucified on a cross that that was burning him from the inside out. And how could it be so bright? The light was hurting his eyes. But he didn't panic, didn't try to struggle. He didn't feel any fear. She was here, in this strange dream.
For that was what it had to be, of course. A dream. Not real.
But she was also in the real world, next to him. Even though he was asleep, he knew she was there.
He could feel her lying with him, entangled in his arms. He could feel her warmth, hear her heartbeat, smell the vanilla fragrance combining with her scent to form a special Essence de Buffy. Even as he smelled her blood and sweat in the dream.
He knew he was safe.
But even though he knew that this was a dream, that he could technically wake up any moment to snuggle back into her arms, Spike couldn't help the feeling of loss when he realized that the presence of dream Buffy was gone. In this imaginary world of pain, he was alone.
And then he felt the real Slayer's presence shift, too.
Why was she moving away? He struggled to wake, to see where his comfy and soft heat source had gone. But he was caught in the nightmare.
It was dark now; things were crashing down to block the light. He had to be thankful for that, at least. And the pain was dissipating.
And then he saw it. The bricks, stones, and bits and pieces of plaster. Tattered signs and broken tiles that all seemed to be heading towards…well, his head. He tried to duck…but it was like he had no head to duck. The rubble went right through him, seemingly sucked down into some type of vortex or whirlpool.
Assured that he wasn't about to be knocked out by the flying debris, he began to look with interest at the things sailing through him to end up in some sort of hole beneath his feet.
Not that he could see his feet, per se. But he could see the pieces of wall and door that sailed through, as well as the broken pottery, tattered leaves of paper, jewelry, and even stuffed animals that followed them. Personal possessions, he figured. Probably the stuff from all those abandoned houses.
But why were they all broken and windswept? And why were they all coming here?
There was even a faded piece of the blue sign that used to hang in front of the Magic Box. Guess it wasn't there anymore. Following that came broken jars with preserved animal parts flying about, bits of wax candles, and all sorts of broken crystals and such.
In fact, now that he thought about it, it seemed that everything that had ever been in Sunnydale was broken and dilapidated, and was now heading this way. There were plastic utensils, lots of broken glass, tattered cloth, and an overabundance of splintered wood.
Spike was glad that he seemed to have no body in this dream.
Those shards of wood were bloody dangerous!
And then he saw it. He saw the painted stucco and brick of a place he knew all too well. The establishment had been too bright and cheery for a Big Bad like him to frequent. That's what he'd always said when Buffy or Dawn had ever whined or begged him to give them a lift to that accursed place. It was a place he'd never gone to with Drusilla, and it was part of the reason why he had despised Harmony so much.
Its pieces were hurtling at him full speed. That wasn't what terrified him. Not the ripped magazines, not the torn and frayed parts and pieces of clothing with tags still intact. Those weren't the reasons why he dreaded the Sunnydale mall.
It was the shoes. He saw them, tumbling down and down, thousands of mismatched shoes. All colors, sizes, and styles. The reason why he had never ever gone shopping with any of the women he'd loved.
He squeezed his insubstantial eyes shut, hoping that they would go through him on their descent like everything else had. Hopefully go all the way to Hell, where they belonged. It would be great if the shoes all happened to get sucked up by the Hellmouth.
But this was a nightmare, wasn't it? His own, personal nightmare.
He felt the thumps of hundreds of shoes, all pelting his head and shoulders. Bombarding his limbs. Smothering him. Having kept his cool thus far, the vampire screamed.
His eyes popped open.
"I'm drowning in footwear!"
His unbeating heart calmed down as he realized that the shoes were gone. He was in the Slayer's basement. And there she stood, by the wall, a very bemused expression on her face.
He shrugged, dismissing it.
"Weird dream."