A/N: This not-quite-a-drabble takes place when Angel was all mopey and angsty and soul-having before meeting Whistler. For the HP timeline, I think 1996 was during OotP…or maybe HBP, I don't remember. Either way, it isn't really important.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy/UPN and Harry Potter to JK Rowling.
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.Parched.
1996. New York City
He was disgusting, a self-loathing wreck tangled up in the filth of old, greasy newspapers and cardboard boxes. Slumped in a dank alleyway, nothing more than a bum or a junky waiting for his next fix. He was garbage in a city of degenerates.
But oh, was he parched.
Every drop of blood was another taunt, another chink in his resolve. Without it he became nothing. With it…well, he already was nothing.
Diving and thrashing, he came up with his prize. The taste of his last still lingered in his mouth, acrid and oily. The rat squirmed and squealed in his grasp. Biting into it, his senses were jolted by a sharp, heady taste unlike any rodent he was familiar with. Senses heightened, mind disgusted, he dropped the pitiful creature.
The dead rat with the missing toe lay undiscovered for only a day. By the time an old tabby cat had absconded with him, there was nothing left but a littered trail of picked bones.
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A/N: Clocked in at 165. I tried to write a drabble, but it was over a 100 words and I couldn't bring myself to cut it down. I'm not gonna even say who our little rodent friend was because I'm assuming that it's evident. If it's not, I guess just ask me in a review.
