Also Comes in Strange
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Title: Five Senses
Author: Tania
Rating: PG
Setting: The end of Convictions.
Summary: This was a bit of a brain dump, five ways Angel was aware of Spike's return.

‘So this is what it feels like,’ Angel thought, cold pang of fear grabbing his chest and wrapping around his heart until he felt it may crush under the weight. Seeing the dead rise again, after you’ve mourned, or sighed in relief, or whatever the hell he had done to come to grips with Spike’s over-the-top exit.

‘So this is what it looks like,’ Angel thought, waving at smoke that had already disappeared, hand blocking flashing light already nothing more than a red ring around his vision. Falling to earth after visiting hell, naked to the world no matter how many layers of clothing you wrap around your body. Eyes filled with rage and fear and why am I here, staring back at him as if through sheer curtains, just unable to believe the vision presented.

‘So this is what it smells like,’ Angel thought, aroma of death and dust, blood and dying friends all housed in a swirling inferno of reanimation, tearing at his mind, forcing him back to Sunnydale screaming. Handing over talismans of unknown origin, damning the last bit of his own turgid past to burn for sins he helped commit, encouraged with word and cattle prod.

‘So this is what it sounds like,’ Angel thought, scream of the dying filling his ears alongside panic-filled gasps from friends too used to the mingling of both. Picturing a girl in the woods, terrified at the sight of a dirt-drenched lover, blood on his lips, staring back through the night. Gnarls and growls accompany the blow that would be painful if it wasn’t so damned ironic, only a century after dying does he get to play the ghost full time.

‘So this is what it tastes like,’ Angel thought, biting back the urge to reach out and touch the apparition. Blood coating teeth and tongue, eyes nearly as wet as lips, constant action to replenish moisture as the air around him is sucked dry by sharp intakes of breath.

Five thoughts leading to one, racing over and over through a mind so filled with sensation it leaves room for nothing more than a single word.

“Spike.”

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