What happened

OOC: Gratuitous Pulp Fiction/Bible quoting at the end.

Also there is "gore" at the end. Nothing horrible as I can't really write gore, but y'know, just incase...

He'd seen this in a movie once.

At the time he'd appreciated it for the cinematic effect. It'd been a good scene. Loki, on the other hand, had talked nonstop for about two years about reenacting it. Luckily for the sinners of the world, under Bartleby's watchful eye that had not happened. The other angel had been sated with a few action figures which did a perfectly good job at playing out the scene, just with less blood and real death.

Bartleby felt slightly guilty now. Here he was, standing in an alley, facing a wall with two cowering young men in front of him. All prepared to play out the scene which Loki had obsessed over for two years. His knife was in one hand and he tossed it up and down. His white wings were at their full span. They weren't necessary for the occasion, or for the scene which he wished to recreate, but the effect it was having on the mortals sure was fun.

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The cold sweat, the clenching of his hands, the shortness of breath - it was all different this morning. His nightmares had never left him alone; he'd grown used to them, even embraced them over time. They kept him focused. They reminded him of his vow, of his 'crusade', of his necessary isolation. They helped to sever his desire for love, for family, for everything that every other normal person wanted. The Happily Ever After. The soulmate of common American lore. Those dreams - nightmares - of his parents. They were good. They hurt. But they were good. Utilitarian.

But this.

The dream that had lanced through him in the night, held him down, forced itself over and over him, drawing out the desire he never pursued farther than a casual dinner date or occasional outrageous playboy flirtation in the public eye, and playing it viciously in the theater of his mind, the dream that had left him shaking and panting nd sweating, engendering the want he'd wanted to forget forever, the dream had been so much different than his nightly visions. Sadistic were the twists of his minds, to place him as the father of children, to place him as the loving husband of a loving wife, to place him in a countryside cottage, surrounded by idyllic beauty, and most of all, love... It was enough to hunch his shoulders from pain.

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