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043. Square
The square was full of people. It had been like that for quite a few days, and the number of people only seemed to be growing. Despite all the activity there, however, nobody seemed to notice the two figures standing in one corner of the square.
"This is not going to end well," muttered one of them, the one with dark hair. "Let me tell you, this is going to get ugly…"
"Now, my dear, don't be so negative all the time," said the other one. He didn't sound too sure about it himself.
They had been observing the situation for several days now. At first Aziraphale had been delighted at this protest in the name of freedom, but now he was becoming more and more doubtful. Whether there truly was something bad in the air or whether it was just Crowley's doubts rubbing off on him, he didn't know, but he certainly couldn't ignore it.
Crowley, on his part, had at first been absolutely gleeful at the promise of chaos hidden in the protest. As days dragged on, however, he had become more and more cynical, making ominous comments about the Spanish Inquisition and other such things Aziraphale would have rather forgotten. By the time Crowley had got into describing a rather detailed memory of a witch trial Aziraphale had told him to shut up or be left alone. The demon had stopped his stories, but kept making comments about how human nature was bound to cause things to turn bad.
"You don't understand, angel," he thus said again. "These are humans. And so are those in the government. And as they are indeed humans, there is no way this will end in freedom and peace and blah blah blah to everyone. A protest in Hell would have more hopes of getting through. Lucifer's not the most agreeable of beings, true, but even he can be persuaded to change his mind sometimes. Humans are the most stubborn beings He ever Created and they seem proud of it."
"What about that thing you are always saying, then?" Aziraphale asked. "That the greatest good can be found in humans, not angels?"
"That's too true," Crowley muttered. "However, in case you have forgotten the second part of what I've said, in them can also be found the greatest evil. And let me tell you, not even the vilest slimy demon in the deepest corner of Hell could even hope to get close to the true evil spirit of humans. My reports on humanity's tricks are used as learning material for little demons who want to be even more nasty and evil than their parents."
"Rather pessimistic," Aziraphale observed. However, like Crowley noticed, he didn't try to deny it.
The demon wasn't sure whether to feel happy or upset about this.
"Those poor dears look so hungry," Aziraphale noted some time later. "Why won't they eat anything?"
"Because they are on a hunger strike," Crowley replied dryly. "I wonder what they are hoping to accomplish by that. It's not like anybody will listen to them anyway."
"I hate you," sighed Aziraphale. "You'll soon infect me with your cynicism."
"Look, angel, I'm ready to bet you are already the most cynic angel in existence," the demon said. "And even that is not enough when it's humans in question. Think about it logically. What would those in charge care even if all of those people died of hunger? Who will really miss them, aside from perhaps their friends and family, if they have any? This won't change anything and you know it."
This time, Aziraphale remained silent. However, again he didn't deny the truth behind Crowley's words.
"Maybe we should tell them that it's no use," Crowley said suddenly. "The world is going to end in a couple of years anyway, so it doesn't really matter whether they manage to change anything. Soon enough they will all be dead."
"But perhaps those couple of years could be happier than they will be with no change," Aziraphale tried. "And besides, every moment of life is precious."
"Then they should all leave," the demon pointed out. "Here, they will only shorten their lives. They need to leave and return to their homes and live what little time they have left before the soldiers come and slaughter everybody."
"Surely it wouldn't come to that," Aziraphale said, but he didn't sound like he believed his words himself. Rather he was saying it just because he had to – angels were supposed to hope, after all. Hope was a virtue.
They stayed in their corner of the square, annoying passers-by and relieving the hunger of those who wouldn't eat, each what they best could do. The tension grew and, just like the humans, they waited for something to happen that would resolve the situation. Sooner or later, something was going to happen – and, despite his desperate attempts at staying hopeful, Aziraphale couldn't help the feeling that it was going to be something bad.
Then, coming as something of a surprise no matter how long they had been waiting for it, the attack began.
Both Aziraphale and Crowley froze, then faded completely out of the sight of normal humans., having previously only been very, very easy to ignore Aziraphale cringed as the shooting began, knowing he should help, but also knowing that one angel's powers would not do any difference in such a situation. If he saved one person, they might be shot later, unless he chose to guard them. In any case he couldn't defend everybody, and then how should he choose those to defend?
The protesters sought safety from the buses they had burned, but were dragged out. Nobody could even leave the square without being attacked. Everybody and anybody within sight was in danger of death – including the soldiers. And however much it horrified them, they couldn't really do anything to stop it. It was too massive, too large-scale, too... human.
For a moment, the demon just stared, too stunned to move. Then, he turned around. "I think, angel," he said with a strained voice, "I think I need to get very, very drunk."
Aziraphale opened his mouth to protest. Then, however, he closed his mouth and nodded, very pale. Turning his back to the square, he followed Crowley away.
Even if Aziraphale had been in a habit of regular sleeping, he would have been unable to sleep that night. Crowley certainly was.
Next Prompt: Circle