Unrequited Love

Rating; PG 13? I'm not entirely sure of ratings yet.

Slash; Yep; Bartleby/Loki.

WARNING; Angst, UST and general moping.

OK, so we all know Dogma isn't mine, right? I used a lot of the original Dogma dialogue in this one, cos otherwise it wouldn't have worked, but I've tried to spice it up with thoughts and stuff. And whenever I try to post fics on ff.net the formatting keeps screwing up, I'm sorry but I can't work out how to fix it. If it happens with this one too, I'm gonna be ever so slightly pissed.

There will be a sequel, I'm working on it as we speak. It will be long, it will be somewhat like an attempt to write a Dogma II. Watch this space!

The basic state of affairs was this. He, Bartleby the Grigori, was deeply, madly and insanely in love with Loki, who was the Angel of Death, his best friend, and also very unaware of Bartleby's problem. The frustration wouldn't have been so bad for the Grigori if it was the spiritual, meeting-of-two-minds, metaphysical kind of love. But it wasn't. It was the, ahem, other kind of love. The one that angels had a definite problem in engaging in. Oh, the spiritual stuff was there, no doubt about it, there was nobody Bartleby respected and loved more than Loki (not that it always looked that way), but he wanted more. Loki, of course was oblivious to all of this.

And now we come to the plan. The master plan. To have even the slightest chance of getting what he wanted, Bartleby was going to have to figure some way of getting them sent to Earth. Once there, if they could transubstantiate, then they'd be human, and, well, you figure out the rest. It was a risky plan, that was for sure, but Bartleby felt that he just had to try. This whole situation was driving him nuts. Utterly insane.

It may help the reader to know that this plan was thought up by Bartleby while he was drunk. Usually his plans were better. However, tonight was traditional. The post-slaughter drink. And the amount of alcohol Bartleby had ingested was making him very maudlin. And screwing up his plotting capabilities. Fatally, as it turned out.

'I like, totally fucking wasted them!' Loki was crowing.

'Loki, they were babies.' Even while drunk and plotting, Bartleby could manage to sound disapproving and cynical.

'Take that, firstborn of Egypt! Pow! Feel the wrath of the Almighty! God, I haven't felt this good since Sodom and Gomorrah. You remember Sodom and Gomorrah, don't you man? Great days, great days.'

'Yes Loki, I remember Sodom and Gomorrah.'

Both of the angels subsided into silence, thinking.

'Loki?'

'Mm-hmm?'

'How do you know what you're doing is, you know, right?'

'What do you mean, right? I'm obeying God! Of course I'm fucking right!'

'Yeah, but, the commandment 'Thou Shalt Not Kill'. Doesn't that apply to ALL of God's creations? Us too?'

'Man, I'm the Angel of Death. I bear God's wrath! I have to kill. What would you rather I became? The Angel of Writing Lines? The Angel of Smacked Bottoms?'

'Still, I'm not sure it's right.'

'You are so squeamish. If it wasn't right, then God wouldn't let me do it, right?' Loki sat back, pleased with his logic.

'I don't know if it works that way. Look, we have to abide by God's rules, right? And God's rules are those that humans hold to be true. And one of those is the 'no killing people' one. Besides, it's not moral. And what good's an angel that's not moral?'

'What do you want me to do man? Throw down my fucking sword and give God the finger?'

'Yeah, pretty much. You don't have to be that melodramatic about it though. Just say you don't want the job. Take something a little less bloodstained.'

Loki downed the last of his drink, leaned over the table, and stared at his friend. Bartleby could feel a blush rising on his neck. He's so close . . .

Then Loki slammed down his glass. 'I'll fucking well do it!'

'Good man!'

They left the bar. Although neither of them knew it, it would be the last time they'd leave any bar, here or on Earth.

They hadn't transubstantiated. After they left the bar, Loki, as he'd said he would, had thrown down the sword, and given God the finger. Literally. This made God a little testy. And resulted in Bartleby and Loki, both now sobered up from shock, landing in Wisconsin, and being told to stay put. Or else.

'This is all your fault!'

'MY fault? Mine? Who was the one who gave God the one fingered salute?'

'You suggested it, you smug bastard!'

'I suggested that you resign! I didn't suggest for you to go in there and burn all your bridges in one go!'

Loki subsided into silence. Bartleby had the definite feeling he'd blown it with Loki. Big time.

Another thousand years later, or so.

They'd made up, eventually. It helped, but not much. For Bartleby, the pain of being away from the Heavenly Host was a dull red ache, punctuated by the bright flares of longing for Loki. He didn't know if it was better to be around Loki, and feel completely inadequate, or to stay away from him, and fight the desperation to see him again. Of course, he'd pretty much always felt like that about Loki, but combined with the loss of God's presence, it became too much to bear. Sweet Jesus, all he wanted to do was go home. In his usual fug of depression he wandered over to the little pile of post on the table in his apartment. One envelope. OK so the fact that there was an envelope in the first place was a bit of a surprise; he had a very clear sign asking for no circulars, and who did he know who'd send him mail? He opened it anyway. Inside was a sheet of paper. Something torn out of a newspaper . . . He began to read. Halfway down the page he dropped into a chair. His jaw dropped too. Finishing the article, he sat for a moment, letting it sink in. Then, feverishly he checked the date on the calendar. Wouldn't it be just his luck that it'd be April Fool's . . . Nope, not April Fool's. This thing was real. He grabbed the phone off the table, and, pausing to blow the dust off, rang the only number he knew. Loki's.

'Mmhmm? What?' Loki didn't even bother to ask who it was. Who else would ring him?

'Meet me at the airport. It's urgent. Really urgent.' Bartleby rang off.

Sitting morosely in one of the hard seats in the arrival lounge, Bartleby watched all the happy people while he waited for Loki. The humans delight at seeing each other made him feel warmed. And then over the crowd he heard a familiar voice, and saw a familiar figure coming towards him, in animated conversation with what looked like a nun.

'Let me get this straight, you don't believe in God because of Alice in Wonderland?' said the nun, looking distinctly shocked. Bartleby groaned. He was at it again.

'No, 'Through the Looking Glass' – That poem, 'The Walrus and the Carpenter'? It's an indictment of organized religion. The Walrus - with his girth and good-nature - obviously refers to either the Buddha, or - with his tusks - the lovable Hindu elephant god, Lord Ganesha. This takes care of the Eastern religions. The Carpenter is an obvious reference to Jesus Christ, who was raised a carpenter's son. He represents the Western religions. And in the poem, what do they do? What do they do? They dupe all the oysters into following them. Then, they proceed to shuck and devour the helpless creatures, en masse. I don't know what that says to you, but to me it says that following faiths based on these mythological figures insures the destruction of one's inner-being.' said Loki, punctuating his little speech with animated gestures.

Bartleby sighed. Cartoons and the priesthood, Loki's two hobbies. He kept listening though, one eye on the happy reunited people.

Loki went on;

'Organized religion destroys who we are or who we can be by inhibiting our actions and decisions out of fear of an intangible parent-figure who shakes a finger at us from thousands of years ago and says "Do it, do it and I'll fucking spank you'

OK. That was going a little far. Using language like that to a nun.

The nun looked really dazed. Loki often had that effect on people. Hell, he had that effect on Bartleby sometimes. 'I've... I've never really thought about it like that... What have I been doing with my life?''

'I know, I know. My advice to you is; you take that money you've been collecting for your parish and go get yourself a nice dress. Go fix yourself up. Go find yourself some man, some woman, that you can connect with, even for a moment, cos that's all life is sister, just a series of moments. Why don't you seize yours?'

As the nun wandered off, Loki clambered over the seats and plopped down next to Bartleby.

'Here's what I don't get about you: you know for a fact that there is a God.

You've been in his presence; he's talked to you personally. And yet I just heard you claim to be an atheist.' said the Grigori, rather disbelievingly.

Loki grinned. 'C'mon man – I just love to fuck with the clergy; keep 'em on their toes. Now here's what I don't get about you: why do you feel the need to come to this place all the time?'

Bartleby took another look at the travelers surrounding them, and smiled. 'This is humanity at its best. Look at them. All that tension, all that anger and mistrust, forgotten for one perfect moment when they come off that plane. See those two? The guy doesn't even know that the girl cheated on him while he was away.'

Loki was instantly interested. Simple creature. 'She did?'

'Uh-huh. Twice.'

'Nice!'

'But it doesn't matter at this moment because they're both so relieved to be with one another. I like that. I just wish they could all feel that way more often.'

'This is why I had to come down here this morning; this is why I had to miss my fucking cartoons? You call me; you tell me it's important. To what, share in your half-assed obsessions with Hallmark moments?'

Bartleby didn't trust himself to look at Loki. He paused, still regarding the happy couple. And then;

'We're going home.'

Loki's jaw dropped.

'Somebody sent us this in the mail.' he said, passing over the newspaper clipping. Loki was still staring at him in disbelief. He rolled his eyes. 'Take it man, and quit leering at me. People are gonna think I just broke up with you.' Not that I'd ever do that . . . he thought to himself. Loki took the article, still staring.

'Did you just say we're going home?'

'Read.'

Loki read out the headline haltingly; '"Cardinal Glick Cuts Ribbon on 'Catholicism-Wow!" Campaign." And?'

Bartleby glared at him. How could he be so slow? 'You have to keep reading.'

And Loki did. He finished the article.

'So you're saying I can walk through this doorway and go back home?'

Finally, he got it! Sort of. 'No - by passing through the doors, our sins are forgiven. Then all we have to do is die...'

Loki started to panic at this 'Wait, wait, wait - Die? I don't want to die.'

Sarcastically Bartleby said 'You'd rather stay down here for a few more eons?'

The sarcasm was lost on his friend, who was panicking.

'No, but we don't even know if we can die. And what if we can, but this archway thing doesn't pan out? What then? Hell? Fuck that! Fuck that.'

'Impossible. If we cut off our wings and transubstantiate to complete human form then we become mortal. And if we die with clean souls, there's no way to keep us out. They have to let us in. We won't be angels, but at least we'll be home.' His complete yearning for home echoed in his voice.

Loki thought. Suspicion crossed his face 'Who sent this paper?'

The last question was too much. Bartleby exploded. 'Who cares who sent the paper? All that matters is that after all these years, we've found a loophole. He can't keep us out anymore. And once we're back in, I'm sure He'll just forgive and forget.'

'Yeah, but this plenary indulgence thing is a church law, not Divine Mandate. Church laws are fallible because they're created by men.'

Much as he loved the other angel, Bartleby really wanted to strangle him sometimes. 'One of the last sacred promises imparted to Peter the first Pope by the Son of God before He left was "Whatever you hold true on earth..."

'...I'll hold true in Heaven.' Loki finished slowly. Finally

'The Pope says it's so, God must adhere. It's dogmatic law.'

Loki held out a hand, convinced. 'Let it never be said that your anal retentive attention to detail never yielded positive results!'

Bartleby accepted the hand, and grinned. 'You can't be anal retentive if you don't have an anus!'

This was working!

And then;

'There's just one thing I think I should do before we leave – something that'll get us back on His good side.' said Loki, rifling through his pockets and producing a battered piece of paper, torn out of some magazine. Bartleby read it. Mooby the Golden Calf. With a sinking feeling he knew what was coming.

And he was proved right when Loki said 'I want to hit them.'

'Are you nuts?! We're mere days away from getting back, and you want to jeopardize it because you have a soft spot for the good ol' days?!'

'What better way to show I've repented than by resuming the position I denied... thanks to you.' Oh that's right; bring it all back to being my fault . . .

'A killing spree is not going to make things better for us.'

'We're not talking about killing here. We're talking about Divine Justice.

We're talking about punishing the wicked, raining down fire and brimstone.

He's all about that. I just know he'd want this done.'

'There hasn't been an Angel of Death since you quit. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Besides, what if you're wrong?'

'If I'm wrong, it won't matter. Like you said - we pass through the arch and we're forgiven anyway'

They walked into the crowded elevator.

Bartleby considered the idea, and found himself agreeing. 'Well... he does hate competition. And this Mooby definitely falls under that heading. The Rededication is in four days.'

Loki was happier now. 'Our last four days on earth. If I had a dick, I'd go get laid.' (And if I had one I'd help you there . . . Bartleby very quickly shut down that train of thought.) 'But we can do the next best thing.'

Bartleby asked the question, even though he knew the answer. Don't forget, he had been hanging round with Loki for millennia. 'What's that?'

Loki forgot they were in a crowded elevator. 'Let's kill people.'

One of their elevator-mates spat out her coffee in shock. Loki smiled at her indulgently. 'Oh, not you.'

So they hopped on a bus. Biiig mistake, letting Loki buy a gun beforehand. Give that guy any kind of weapon and he was gone. He only knew one way to behave. Before Bartleby knew it, the bus had been stopped, the passengers and driver had run away, and there was brain fluid all over the seats. The thing is, seeing Loki in his element again had been so . . . attractive. He'd never seen the other angel look so, well, hot. That's why when he saw Loki leveling the gun at the adulterer's head he didn't even attempt to stop him. Stupid!

And that's why he went along with the Mooby hit. He even helped out. Well, when he saw what those guys were guilty of, all written out in their minds for him to see, he had to. That was the bonus about being a 'Watcher'. He knew stuff. So he agreed to set the stage for Loki's first big hit since his resignation.

' . . . You are responsible for raising an icon that draws worship from the Lord.

You've broken the first commandment, but more than that, I'm afraid none of you passes for a decent human being. Your continued existence is a mockery of morality.

Like you – Mr. Burton. Last year you cheated on your wife of seventeen years, eight times. You even had sex with her best friend while you were supposed to be watching your kids.'

Loki just had to butt in here; 'In the bed you and your wife share, no less!' He gave the adulterer the double thumbs up in full sarcastic splendour.

Bartleby went on.

'And you, Mr. Newman. You got your girlfriend drunk at last year's Christmas party, and then paid a kid from the mailroom to have sex with her while she was passed out, just so you could break up with her - guilt free - when she sobbingly confessed the next morning. She killed herself three months later.

Mr. Brace disowned his gay son, very compassionate Mr. Brace;

Mr. Ray put his mother in a third-rate nursing home and used the profits from the sale of her house to purchase an oriental rug for himself;

Mr. Baker flew to the Philippines on the company account to have sex with an eleven year old boy; Mr. Hauptman okayed the production of Mooby dolls from materials he knew were unsafe and toxic because, survey says, it was less costly.'

And then he stopped. The last board member was a bit of a surprise.   

'You, on the other hand, are an innocent. You lead a good life. Good for you.' He gave her the thumbs up too, and turned to the chairman. 'But you, Mister Whitland. You have more skeletons in your closet than this assembled party. I can't even mention them aloud.' He bent down and whispered in Mr. Whitland's ear.

The other board members couldn't hear, but Loki picked it up. And was horrified. But pleased. It gave him more justification.    

 'You're his father, you sick fuck.'

Bartleby left Loki to it. But when he heard him go after the girl, he felt bound to stop it.

'Loki!' he called from outside the board room.

'Coming.'

A disgruntled Loki exited the room and followed him. They headed to the bus terminal.

More problems. They tried to get another bus, but they were all sold out.

But Loki had a plan. Bartleby groaned mentally.

'Why fall victim to gravity when we can just as easily rise above?' said Loki

'Fly?' It had been ages since they'd flown. It wasn't safe anymore, not with all these jet engines just waiting to suck them in,

'We got wings, right? Let's use them.'

And then a voice they hadn't heard for ages –literally- addressed them.

'I wouldn't suggest that.'

Azrael. The fallen Muse.

'You wouldn't want to stand out, now would you?'

Following him into a shop of some kind, the pair listened to him. It took a while for it to sink in for Bartleby. They were marked. Neither side wanted them to get home.

'Thanks Azrael, you're a true friend' he said, clasping the other's hand.

Now their transport problems came back to worry him again. 

Eventually they managed to catch a train. Onboard, while Loki was pretending to get high with a couple of stoners, Bartleby, seeking more sophisticated company, was pretending to get drunk with a woman who seemed to be reluctantly accompanying said stoners. And boy did her conversation intrigue him. She was on a 'pilgrimage'. He was instantly wary, mindful of Azrael's warning.

'Where's this pilgrimage to?' he asked, carefully.

'You'd never believe me if I told you.' she said, chuckling to herself. Bartleby put on his most disarming smile He could tell she fancied him.

'Try me.'

'Alright. But I warned you. Okay - I'm going to this church in New Jersey.' Shit!

'Really...' he said, in a keep-on-talking voice

'I was told that I'm supposed to stop a couple of angels from entering the

church. They're trying...' Here she just burst into giggles. Alcohol taking its toll. 'This sounds so stupid... They're trying to get back into Heaven.'

Bartleby tensed. The girl kept on talking, oblivious and more than a little tipsy.

'See, they got tossed out of Heaven years ago, right? And if they get back

in, it proves God wrong. And since God is infallible, to prove Her wrong

would...' She snorted with laughter again '..would unmake existence! I feel so stupid just saying it.'

Bartleby's first reaction was fear. She was sent to kill him. And then immediately a feeling of calm stole over him. He knew how to handle this. He slid a bottle off the table.

She continued 'But the thing I don't get... is how do I stop an angel? Two, even! I guess I'm supposed to talk them out of it or something.'

'Maybe you're supposed to kill them?' he suggested calmly, hefting the bottle, testing it. She burst into hysterics.

'Oh yeah! Kill them! Even if that was the case... I mean. how do you kill an

angel?'

To Bartleby it seemed that time was slowing down. 'I don't imagine it's much different from killing a human . . .' he said.

And then a familiar, but much less welcome figure than that of Azrael stepped into the carriage. The Thirteenth Apostle.

'Where the hell is everybody? I wake up, and...'

Bartleby froze. So did the Apostle.

'The Apostle!'

'Holy shit!'

Bethany, the girl, chose this time to get up and make friendly overtures.

'Rufus, I want you to meet my new friend, Barry...'

Bartleby smashed the bottle on the table edge and grabbed her from behind, lifting the glass to her throat. She didn't get it.

'Barry! Don't be such a show off!'

The Apostle did.

'Take it easy, Bartleby. Just let her go and let's talk about this.'

After hearing the name Bartleby, Bethany started to panic. But the angel held her tightly.

'Let me go, you dickless son of a bitch!'

'Oh save it lady, a few minutes ago you were aching to top me off!' he said savagely, delighting in her fear. It was like a drug. 'After all this time, this is what it comes down to – we're to be liquidated?' he asked the Apostle.

'There doesn't have to be a slaughter. We can work this out...' the Apostle was desperate that he didn't kill the woman. She must be the Scion. Bartleby decided that this was the time to call for reinforcements.

'Loki!' he yelled over his shoulder.

Loki, seeing what was going on, leapt to his feet. 'Holy shit - the Apostle! What are you doing here?'

Impatient, Bartleby answered for him. 'They're here to thwart our journey home, my friend. This one just told me that she's supposed to stop a couple of angels from entering a church.'

'You think she was talking about us?'

'No, two other angels! What do you say, Rufus - we're to be liquidated?'

'It doesn't have to go down like that! You haven't thought about the consequences of your re-entry!'

Loki was scornful. 'Consequences, schmonsequences.'

'I have to agree with him. No one - not you, and especially not this

finite-lifer - no one is going to impede us. We're going home, regardless

of whose pride it may hurt!' said Bartleby implacably

The Apostle blew up. 'It's not a question of pride stupid! It's...'

Bartleby had had enough of this. 'Loki - kill the girl.'

Loki looked at him in shock. 'What are you, high? I can't kill her if she hasn't done anything, you know that.'

'Fine! I'll kill her myself...'

And then everything exploded in pain. The two little stoners of Loki's acquaintance somehow managed to overcome the two angels, and they were thrown ignominiously off the train. A cold fury over took Bartleby at this point. Nothing was going to stop him getting what he wanted. He strode into an underground car park, Loki in tow.

'The Apostle is here!' said Loki, slightly panicked.

'I noticed.'

'If that's the case, then chick with him must be...'

'The Scion, I'd imagine.'

Loki was completely panicked now. 'Well, shit man! Maybe we should rethink this whole thing! I mean, you heard the guy - he said there were consequences. Azrael tells us we're marked. Maybe there's more to this than we thought about.'

But Bartleby felt amazingly calm. He knew what he had to do.

'I was so close to slitting that bitch's throat, and you know how I felt? Righteous. Justified. Eager.'

'Are you all right man, your eyes –' said Loki, concerned.

'My eyes are open! For the first time I get it. When that innocent little girl let her mission slip, for the first time in eons I get it! In the beginning, it was just us and Him. Angels and God. And then He created the humans. And He gave them more than He ever gave us. Ours was designed to be a life of servitude, bowing and scraping and adoration. But He gave them more than he ever gave us; He gave them a choice. They can choose to ignore God, choose to acknowledge Him. All this time we've been down here, everyday I felt the absence of the Divine presence. And it has pained me... as I'm sure it must have pained you sometimes, even though you'd gloss over it with jokes. But we feel his absence, and why? Because of the way He made us -as servants. Had we been given free will, we could ignore the pain... like them.'

Now Loki was really worried. He tried to joke it off.  'Hey, you know, all I'm saying is maybe one of us needs to take a nap-'

Bartleby snapped. 'Wake up! These humans have besmirched everything he ever gave them; they were given paradise; they threw it away. They were given this planet; they destroyed it. They were favored best among all His endeavors; and some of them don't even believe He exists, and despite it all, he has shown them infinite fucking patience at every turn.

I asked you once to lay down the sword, because I felt sorry for them! The result, our expulsion from heaven. Where was his infinite fucking patience then? It's not right! It's not right, it's not fair. We've paid our debt. Don't you think it's time we went home? And to do that, I think we may have to dispatch our would-be dispatchers.'

'Wait, wait, wait - kill them?! You're talking about the Last Scion, for Christ's sake! And what about Jay and Bob - I mean, those guys were all right.'

'Don't, my friend. Don't let your sympathies get the best of you, as they did me way back when. Scion or not, she's just a human. And regardless, our sins are forgiven by passing through that arch. No harm, no foul.'

Loki stared. 'My God. I've heard a rant like this before . . . '

'What did you say?'

'I've heard a rant like this before. You sound like the Morningstar . . . '

'You shut your fucking mouth- 'No, wait, thought Bartleby, I'll shut it for you. What he did next was a result of the pure adrenalin he was running on. The fierce exultation, the realization of what he was saying had wired him, bypassing his brain. He grabbed Loki and kissed him, hard. Desperately. Putting all those eons of want and need and frustration into it. And Loki responded, to Bartleby's surprise. For what seemed like another eternity they were locked into that embrace, until Loki stiffened and pushed him away.

'Loki. I want you. 'It was a statement of fact. Bartleby looked straight at his friend, and reached for him again. It was out in the open now, no use trying to hide it.

Now it was Loki's turn to rant. He shoved Bartleby away.

'No, Bartleby. We can't do this. I want to. Oh God, do I want to. But we can't, and not just for the practical reasons. And you know why? You left it too long. All those years, all those centuries, I waited for you. I watched you, moping round in your little depressed world; I wanted to comfort you so badly. I didn't know if you wanted me too, or any of that stuff. But you should have known. You're a Watcher for fuck's sake man, a Watcher! Every other fucking mind on this planet you can read, you can see all their feelings and emotions. You can read their minds! Why couldn't you fucking read mine?' Loki was almost crying, but he regained his composure. 'And now you're talking about doing this, this stupid thing. You're not who you were anymore. You're not the angel I loved. I meant what I just said. You sound like Lucifer man! You've fucking lost it! You're not talking about going home Bartleby, you're talking about war on God! Well fuck that. I've seen what happens to the proud when they take on the throne. I'm going back to Wisconsin.'

Bartleby slammed Loki up against the wall, trying to control himself, but the feel of Loki under his hands, struggling to get his breath back, was too much, and he claimed Loki's mouth in another draining kiss, not letting the other end it until he, Bartleby, was ready. And then he spoke.

'We're going home, Loki. And no-one, not you, not even the Almighty himself is gonna make that otherwise.' he said, and walked away. Loki followed, but Bartleby knew that that kiss was the last one, knew that all was different between them now. And his mind couldn't handle it. He snapped, snapped for real.

His frustrated love and his longing for home fused, tied together with deep resentment for humanity. It was their fault! He wanted revenge. He strode out of the car park.

They strode into the church grounds the next morning, as the Cardinal was making his sad little speech. Or rather, Bartleby strode. Loki followed him unhappily. There were hundreds of parishioners.

Glick was saying; 'Now, let me just give you a bit of history on this particular little hundred years young House of God...'

The line was too good to pass up.

'But this is no longer God's House. God doesn't live here anymore.' said Bartleby, pushing his way through the crowd. 'He's grown weary of your superficial faith and has turned a deaf ear to your lip-service prayers. He is no longer amused, and has abandoned you -His favorites - to the whim of judgement. Hypocrites and charlatans -prepare to taste God's wrath!'

Loki tried to stop him again. 'Maybe we should just go.' he whispered.   

'You wanted your body count, you got it. This lot is rife with sin. We'll judge them all!' Bartleby gritted back. Glick tried to get a cop to stop him. You had to laugh sometimes. A cop against an angel. Especially an angel as royally pissed off as Bartleby.

'All right, let's leave the nice Cardinal alone and go for a ride...'

'Mister McGhee, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.'  said Bartleby in a threatening tone. Which the cop just didn't seem to pick up.

'Is that so? Well, let's just...'

Sick of the cop, Bartleby shoved his head round, breaking his neck in a business-like manner, dropping the body without looking at it, but hearing the gasps of shock behind him, one of which was Loki's. Who's squeamish now huh?

'Ladies and Gentlemen - you have been judged as guilty of violations against our Almighty Lord. And this very day - I assure you - you will all pay for your trespasses... in blood.' He turned his head to Loki. 'Wings. Now.'

'I'm not so sure...'

'DO IT!'

The slaughter began.

After a while, just as he'd predicted, the Scion and her friends, the prophets, the Apostle, and that know-it-all Muse Serendipity all turned up, very dramatically. Loki'd already cut off his wings, after they finished with the parishioners, in a sad attempt to persuade Bartleby to do the same. But the other angel was on a roll. He hunted the streets for other humans, having run out of the so-called faithful. From on high he watched Loki's confrontation with the Scion and co. He dropped the struggling human he held, so as to not be distracted.

It gave them quite a fright when it nearly hit them.

'It was a Cardinal.' said Loki, who was getting pissed quite effectively on champagne. 'Kind of hard to tell with his face like that, but the Rosaries are a dead giveaway.' Well that was classic Loki. Wings cut off? End of the world? No big deal. He still had room for jokes.

The skinny prophet leapt for a gun. Fool

'IT'S ONE OF THEM!! KILL IT!!!'

But the Scion stopped him just in time.

'NO...! Don't you listen?! We can't touch them!' Ah. Obviously they'd put some thought into their little quest.

'I wasn't gonna touch him, I was gonna shoot him!' said the idiot.

Here Loki decided to make a contribution. He looked up.

'He's been at it for awhile now. We ran out of parishioners, so he just started picking up anyone off the street. You're looking at eons of repression getting purged. If only we'd been able to jerk off.' Noticing Bartleby, and noticing that he'd picked up another one, Loki stepped back a foot or so.

'I'd step back if I were you.'

The Scion lost it at the sight of the mangled body. She grabbed Loki.

'WHY?!? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU HOPE TO PROVE?!? ALL THESE PEOPLE - WHY?!?'

'I thought we weren't supposed to touch them?' the skinny one said to the Apostle.

'I think our Bethany's about hit her ceiling.'

Loki pushed Bethany aside amiably. Even as a human he was strong still. Strong enough for that, anyway.

'This wasn't my idea, all right? I just wanted to go home.' he said defensively. 'We both wanted to go home. But he snapped. When he realized who you were and what you'd have to do, he just lost it. You know what's funny about it? He never could stand to see me work. He said he always felt sorry for you people - that you didn't know any better. Now look at him.' Imagine. Loki making excuses for him. Bartleby would have felt pleased, if he could feel anything at all.

The thin prophet finally got up to speed. 'This guy's drunker than hell.'

And the Muse butted in.  'Which means he's human now - his wings have been cut off.' She slapped Loki, trying to wake him up a bit. 'Loki! Loki!'

Loki recognized her. 'The Muse. Haven't seen you in a long time.'

She had no time for pleasantries. 'Loki - have you walked through the arch yet? C'mon. tell me! Have you gone in and come out through the archway yet?!'

This seemed an opportune moment to intrude. Bartleby began to descend.

'No.' He landed beside them. 'We were awaiting your arrival.'

The Muse tried to plead with him. Amusing.

'Bartleby - listen to me! You can't go through with this! Azrael was just using you! If you go back this way...' He shoved her out of the way.

'I've become aware of the repercussions, Muse. I know what I'm doing.'

Now Bethany had a go.

'YOU FUCK! YOU SICK, TWISTED FUCK!! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!! LOOK AT All you've done...!'

He subdued her. He almost felt a soft spot for her.

'Bethany - you of all people should understand what I'm trying to accomplish here. You too have been abandoned. You know what it's like to be cast aside. But while you've only felt the devastating effects for a few years, I've dealt with it for millennia. And while you never see your ex-husband or how blissful he is with his new wife...And he is.....seeing you people everywhere, everyday, trapped on this perfect little world He created for you... it's a constant reminder that though my kind came first, your kind was most revered. And your kind knows forgiveness, while my kind knows regret. A lesson must be taught. All are accountable... even God.

Soon a cadre of police will arrive, just in time to kill us as we exit the church. And then this failed experiment called existence will cease to be.' He felt good. This would fix everything. Everything.

Loki tried. One last time.

Drunk as hell, he stepped up to his friend. 'I can't... let you do this, Bartleby...I didn't know we... would end existence...' Bartleby didn't trust himself to look at Loki. He couldn't weaken now, he was so close, and he knew that one sight of Loki's beautiful, bloodstained face would weaken him beyond belief. Instead he addressed the Scion.

'My compatriot. Genocide takes a lot out of him. He's weakened. And more importantly. he's now a human being. A condition that carries two liabilities: a conscience.....and a short life span.'

He pulled a knife out and shoved it home. Then he looked at Loki. The shock and disbelief in his face nearly killed Bartleby. He held his friend for as long as he could, and whispered 'Sorry, old friend - but you lost the faith.'

He shook off the guilt as much as he could, but he didn't need to, for almost immediately the assembled group jumped him, trying to beat him up.

There were a few minutes of confusion, and then, glory be, the thin stupid one picked up a gun! And of course, attempted macho banter.

'HEY! BIG BIRD!! READY FOR THE COUNTING GAME?! COUNT THE SHELLS!!'

Bartleby dropped the Muse he was throttling, and ducked. The stupid one started firing at him. It'd be ok, the shells were whistling over him- his wings! The pain had to be felt to be believed. With his hands over his head, Bartleby could see out of the corners of his eyes his feathers –his own feathers- and his blood flying past. He screamed silently, his throat working, but no noise coming out. And then it stopped, and a weight was lifted off his back. He looked up. The Apostle and the Muse had grabbed the thin one. The Apostle slapped him.

'Oww! What the hell did you do that for?!'

'Angels have to cut their wings off to become human.' said the Muse.

'You just did him a favor, stupid.'

Gingerly, Bartleby got up. He reached around his back, feeling for his damaged wings. They weren't there. A pair of pitifully flapping appendages met his fingers, slippery with warm blood. His wings were gone. His wings were gone. He was human! And now there was nothing they could do to stop him. He raced for the church doors, laughing. Grabbing the handles, he was on the point of throwing them open when they opened by themselves. Metatron, and God, stood in front of him. Suddenly the enormity of what he had done hit him.

Loki. Oh God. Loki!

The presence of God brought it all back to him.

'Oh Bartleby... was Wisconsin really that bad?' said Metatron, the smug bastard. He had NO IDEA.

Loki . . .

God stepped forward, and held him to her. Bartleby couldn't help it, he started to cry.

Loki . . .

'Anyone who isn't dead or from another plane of existence would do well to cover their ears right about now.' said Metatron.

God released Bartleby, and stepped back. With a sense of calm, he knew what was to happen now. He nodded.

'Thank you.' he whispered.

She opened her mouth. In his last few seconds, all he could think was

I'm sorry! Loki, I'm sorry! Loki . . .