by Neil Gaiman
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
(on the verge of tears)
Aziraphale?
He picks up dark glasses and puts them on. They are melted, and the glass is shattered, and they are ridiculous.
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
Right. I’m done. I’ve had it. I don’t care about any bloody angels or humans or anyone. I hate you all. Somebody killed my best friend, and I don’t even care who did it. Bastards, all of you.
And he looks down, and sees . . . The Nice And Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, where it was thrown by Shadwell. It hasn’t caught fire.
He reaches out for it, picks it up.
CUT TO:
505EXT. HOGBACK WOOD – STORM, DAY
Hogback Wood. Pepper, Wensleydale and Brian are frozen, literally unable to speak. They have no mouths. Adam’s eyes are closed. He’s talking like a statesman . . .
ADAM
It’s a bad world. But we can fix it. And it doesn’t matter that you three aren’t my friends any more. I’ve got better friends than you’ll ever be.
He opens his eyes and they are gently glowing. He smiles.
ADAM (CONT’D)
My new friends will be together soon. They’re coming here. And then we make everything better.
TITLES SEQUENCE
506EXT. SOHO – STORM, DAY
With a crash, Aziraphale’s bookshop building tumbles in on itself. Obviously, nobody inside could have survived.
The police are pushing the onlookers back.
The firefighter is talking to the other firefighters. He’s dazed . . .
FIREFIGHTER
. . . I couldn’t stop him. He just ran in there. Must have been mad, or drunk, I don’t know. Just ran in there. Horrible way to die. He just . . .
And then, standing there, in front of the inferno, we see Crowley, with ruined dark glasses. Ripped suit and filthy and everything. And he looks like a grown-up among children. He’s carrying the book.
The police officers look at him, and don’t say anything. The firefighters don’t say anything.
Crowley looks down at his car. Bricks and smouldering wooden joists have fallen across the front. Cops and such are standing between Crowley and the car.
They look at him.
They get out of the way. He takes off his ruined sunglasses. Looks at a cop with his snake eyes.
CROWLEY
I shouldn’t litter, should I? I mean, I probably should litter, I’m a demon after all, but nobody’s really keeping score any more.
He drops the destroyed sunglasses in a bin on the pavement. He walks over to the Bentley. Opens the door. Gets in, with the book.
The car reverses off at enormous speed, swings around a fire engine, and off into the stormy darkness.
Since Crowley appeared, nobody has spoken or said a single word. It’s been perfectly quiet.
POLICE OFFICER
(numbly)
Weather like this, he ought to have put his headlights on.
FIREFIGHTER
(just as numb)
Especially driving like that. It could be dangerous.
And there is a blinding FLASH OF LIGHTNING.
507INT. BENTLEY – STORM, DAY
And a CRASH OF THUNDER, and we are driving through London with Crowley.
GOD (V.O.)
Crowley had lost Aziraphale, and the world was ending in a few hours. He was in Hell’s bad books. Not that Hell has any other kind. He had nowhere to go.
The glove compartment is opened. It contains nothing but dark glasses.
Crowley reaches in and takes a pair, puts them on.
508EXT. SHADWELL’S FLAT – DAY
The storm is coming, but not quite here. Right now it’s just a little rain and it’s gusting. And Shadwell, stumbling towards us. His left hand is holding his right hand at the wrist as if it might go off. His gaze is on his right hand, as if he’s sure that if he keeps looking at it, it won’t explode. He’s in shock.
He reaches the front door, then realises he would need his key to get in. He rings the doorbell with his left hand. Then he collapses against the wall.
CLOSE UP on the door as it opens, and Madame Tracy is dressed in her most occulty clothes. She is ready for the seance and expecting company.
MADAME TRACY
(in occulty tones)
Enter, seekers after wisdom, and together we shall part the veil . . .
Then she registers what she is looking at: nobody. She looks around the doorframe. Sees Shadwell holding his hand.
MADAME TRACY (CONT’D)
(normal)
Mr Shadwell? What have you done to your hand?
SHADWELL
Get away from me, woman. I dinna know me own power.
MADAME TRACY
Are you all right, dear?
SHADWELL
I canna be responsible. The southern pansy. I saw it. I saw him. I pointed it at him, and – BABOOM!
MADAME TRACY
What on Earth happened?
SHADWELL
Aye. That’s just it. Nothing on Earth. Nothing on Earth. What would you say . . . if I told you that this hand had just exorcised a demon, clean off the surface of the Earth . . .?
MADAME TRACY
I’d say that I think somebody needs a nice cup of tea, and a little lie down.
She takes his arm and starts leading him up the stairs.
509INT. SHADWELL’S FLAT – DAY
Shadwell is almost delirious.
SHADWELL
But young Newt. He’s still out there. In thrall to heathen ways and lubricious occult wiles. There could be women there . . .
And Madame Tracy pushes him into her flat.
510INT. MADAME TRACY’S FLAT – DAY
The table is set for a seance. It’s a very spooky, fancy, low-rent medium’s room.
MADAME TRACY
I hope he’ll know what to do about them. And I’m sure he wouldn’t like to think of you getting yourself worked up into a state.
She looks around.
MADAME TRACY (CONT’D)
You can’t be in here. Mrs Ormerod and them will be here any moment. Come on . . .
And she pushes him through into . . .
511INT. MADAME TRACY’S BEDROOM – DAY
Her private bedroom space. It is very pink. There are photos on the wall of a very sexy young lady in and out of a bikini holding a beach ball, in a photographer’s studio in London, in black and white. This was young Madame Tracy. There are stuffed toys around, and discreet handcuffs, pink glittery whips and suchlike. It is a very sweet and homelike fluffy pink den of iniquity.
MADAME TRACY
You lie down and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.
SHADWELL
But—
MADAME TRACY
You won’t be any use to young Newt in this state.
SHADWELL
Aye. A bit of a lie down. Indeed.
He sits on the bed. Still looking at his hand.
SHADWELL (CONT’D)
(whispering)
Nobody’s ever done what I’ve done. Not Hopkins. Not Siftings. Not Dalrymple. I’m the ultimate weapon. I’m the Doomsday Option. I’m . . .
He looks around in horror. The stuffed toys stare back at him.
SHADWELL (CONT’D)
What kind of a place is this?
512INT. HEAVEN – ETERNAL NIGHT
We are in Heaven. It’s a very abstract sort of place, white walls open to the night sky, and everything is in a mad bustle. A QUARTERMASTER ANGEL, bossy and angry, and directing ANGELS to their places, is in charge. Dressed in clothes that seem vaguely military. There are other ANGELS doing his bidding.
The planet Earth, no bigger than a globe, is spinning slowly in a glass box in the room, like a piece of art.
AZIRAPHALE MATERIALISES: he’s dressed in white (all his clothes on Earth have been replaced with perfectly tailored, laundered, gleaming white versions of the same). He looks winded and upset.
; QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
You! You’re late!
AZIRAPHALE
Yes. Um. Actually, I didn’t mean to be here. Yet. Still sorting things out. On Earth.
The quartermaster isn’t interested. Is checking things in a file on a clipboard.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
Aziraphale, isn’t it? Principality, angel of the Eastern Gate. Your whole platoon is waiting for you.
The quartermaster angel is handing Aziraphale a tin hat and a war kilt.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL (CONT’D)
Aziraphale, Aziraphale . . .? Why is that name so familiar?
Aziraphale looks innocent. The Quartermaster looks through papers.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL (CONT’D)
Hang on. Aziraphale. You were issued with a—
AZIRAPHALE
Flaming sword, yes, I know. It’s not my fault . . . she was having a very bad day and I . . .
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
(interrupting)
You were issued with a body. Where is it?
Aziraphale looks down at himself. He’s slightly transparent.
AZIRAPHALE
I’m afraid I hadn’t actually prepared for stepping into the transportation portal, you see. And the body discorporated.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
Discorporated?
AZIRAPHALE
It was six thousand years old.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
I count them all out, and I count them all in again. And then you turn up, late for Armageddon, no flaming sword, not even a body, you pathetic excuse for an angel . . .
AZIRAPHALE
I suppose I am, really. I mean . . . I have no intention of fighting in any war.
All angels on the floor turn and look at the angel who has said the unsayable.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
Don’t be a coward.
(more quietly)
You get into position, right now, and I won’t say anything more about the body you discorporated. We can take the sword out of your celestial wages.
AZIRAPHALE
I was in the middle of something important. I demand to be returned.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
Without a body? That’s ridiculous.
Aziraphale stops and thinks. What an excellent idea!
AZIRAPHALE
It is?
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
Obviously. What are you going to do? You can’t possess them.
AZIRAPHALE
Demons can.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
You aren’t a demon. You’re an angel.
AZIRAPHALE
How does one navigate? Oh well. I’ll figure it out as I go.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL
What are you—?
And Aziraphale closes his eyes. He reaches for the Earth in a box, and pushes his hands against the side of the box . . .
And he’s GONE.
The angels look at where he was, then, doubtfully, look at the quartermaster.
QUARTERMASTER ANGEL (CONT’D)
What are you lot looking at? Don’t you know there’s a war on?
513EXT. HOGBACK WOOD – STORM, DAY
Adam is ignoring the three frozen kids. He’s talking to Dog.
ADAM
They’re getting ready. They’re getting ready to ride. And then it all goes away.
Dog starts whimpering.
ADAM (CONT’D)
It’s good. It’s good, Dog. They messed it all up. I’m doing the right thing. The voices said so.
Dog backs away.
The storm is finishing, but the sky is blood red.
ADAM
My friends are on their way. It’ll be a world just for us. We’ll get rid of everything stupid and start all over again. Won’t that be awesome?
His friends mouthlessly stare at him.
ADAM (CONT’D)
Say something!
Pepper raises a finger to the place where her mouth used to be.
A tear runs down her face.
ADAM (CONT’D)
Stop it! Stop crying! This is fun! We’re having fun! This is the best day of all.
And Adam levitates. His eyes are glowing.
ADAM (CONT’D)
You have to smile. I can make it happen! Mouths back. Smile. SMILE!
And the kids’ mouths are back on their faces. Now they have huge Joker-style smiles.
A tear runs down Brian’s grinning face.
514INT. MADAME TRACY’S FLAT – DAY
Madame Tracy opens her bedroom door. She’s holding a mug.
MADAME TRACY
Here you go. Nice cup of—
She looks down. Shadwell is fast asleep on her bed. He’s still got his boots and raincoat on.
She looks at him with . . . well, with love. It’s probably easier to love Shadwell when he’s asleep.
Then she backs out of the door.
515INT. JASMINE COTTAGE, BEDROOM – DAY
Newt is in a post-coital rosy glow, in bed. Newt has a soppy smile on his face. Anathema is getting dressed.
The storm has abated a little . . .
NEWT
That was. I mean. That was. You were . . .
ANATHEMA
The earth moved for everybody, then.
NEWT
Yes. You know . . . I’d never actually, that was my first time . . .
ANATHEMA
I’d never have known.
But she says it nicely.
NEWT
So. Um. Seeing the world’s ending . . . Can we do it again?
ANATHEMA
We don’t have time. The storm’s dying down. We have to get going. And Agnes said we only did it this once.
NEWT
She never. She bloody . . . you can’t tell me she predicted that.
Anathema looks down. Cards blew all over the room earlier, but the right card is sitting waiting for her now. She picks it up and tosses it to him. Then she starts picking up the cards . . .
Newt reads it.
NEWT (CONT’D)
(reading)
‘You go, boy! May fortune be with you!’ ‘Anathema, my descendent, I trust he will be fine of feature and manly of—’ oh my dear lord.
ANATHEMA
Get dressed.
She starts to pick up the cards. He starts pulling on his clothes.
NEWT
We need to visit Adam Young. And stop him.
ANATHEMA
I’m not sure about that any more. Agnes doesn’t tell us to. If there’s a card with instructions, I don’t know which it is.
NEWT
What do you mean, ‘Agnes doesn’t tell us to’? Don’t you ever just do things? To see how they’ll turn out?
ANATHEMA
Not important things, no. And we now have maybe an hour to go until there’s nothing anyone can do. I’m not going to waste a second of it. Come on.
And Newt looks somehow cockier. He’s growing up. He tosses a balled-up sock into the air and catches it.
NEWT
You can’t let a 400-year-old witch tell you what to do.
ANATHEMA
I’ve spent my life trying to figure out what she wanted me to do. She’s never failed me. Sometimes I fail her. And . . . I can’t kill an eleven-year-old boy.
NEWT
Not even to save the world?
Anathema shakes her head ruefully.
516INT. PUB – STORM, DAY
A London pub. Crowley is waiting for the end of the world, and has decided to drink himself into oblivion while he waits. He has two empty bottles of Talisker in front of him, along with the copy of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. And a glass.
BARMAN (in his fifties) is reading the newspaper, when not serving.
CROWLEY
Same again.
The barman impassively puts another bottle of Talisker in front of him. Crowley begins talking when the barman approaches.
CROWLEY (CONT’D
)
I never asked to be a demon. I was just minding my own business one day and then, looky here, it’s Lucifer and the guys, they say, hey, Crowley, my man, we’re just on our way to discuss the whole job conditions and career advancement thing, so, okay, the food hadn’t been that good lately, I’d got nothing on for the rest of that afternoon, next thing I know I’m doing a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur.