by Neil Gaiman
CROWLEY
No. It’s the right place. How do you mean? Loved?
POV shot: Aziraphale in the gunsights.
AZIRAPHALE
I mean, the opposite of when you say, ‘I don’t like this place. It feels spooky.’
CROWLEY
I don’t ever say that. I like spooky. Big spooky fan, me. Let’s go talk to some nuns.
Crowley and Aziraphale take a step towards the building, and we hear two muffled BANGS, as Crowley is shot in the chest and Aziraphale is shot in the back.
SLOW MOTION as they both crumple to the ground. Important: everything in Tadfield Manor from here to the end is shot like a war film, somewhere between Rambo: First Blood and Band of Brothers . . .
We can see that Crowley’s shirtfront has turned red . . .
Crowley and Aziraphale are sprawled on the lawn. We nose in on them. Crowley touches the red on his shirt. Looks at the red on his fingers. Sniffs it. Licks it.
CROWLEY
Hmm.
Aziraphale raises his hand. The ‘blood’ on it is blue . . .
AZIRAPHALE
Blue?
CROWLEY
It’s paint.
And as they get up, Nigel Tompkins comes charging out of the rhododendrons, paintball gun at the ready.
NIGEL TOMPKINS
Okay. You’re both hit. I don’t know what you think you’re playing at but—
And we look at Nigel as Crowley transforms into something monstrous.
Nigel faints. We cut back as Crowley has transformed back . . .
CROWLEY
That was fun.
AZIRAPHALE
Yes. Fun for you. Just look at the state of this coat. I’ve kept it in tiptop condition for over a hundred and eighty years now. I’ll never get this stain out.
CROWLEY
You could miracle it away.
AZIRAPHALE
Yes. But I’d always know the stain was there. Underneath, I mean.
Crowley gestures. The stain vanishes.
AZIRAPHALE (CONT’D)
Oh. Thank you. This gun. I’ve looked at it. It’s not a proper gun at all. It just shoots paintballs.
CROWLEY
Don’t your lot disapprove of guns?
AZIRAPHALE
Unless they are in the right hands. Then they give weight to a moral argument. I think.
Crowley is amused by this. He takes the paint gun from Aziraphale . . .
CROWLEY
A moral argument? Really? Come on . . .
He puts the paint gun down. Now it’s a real gun.
241INT. TADFIELD MANOR – RECEPTION
We follow Crowley and Aziraphale into the building. It’s barely recognisable as the satanic convent from Episode One. Modernised tastefully into a place where retreats happen.
TADFIELD MANOR CONFERENCE AND MANAGEMENT TRAINING CENTRE: A PLACE TO INTEGRATE AND EXPAND is on the wall, and beneath it a large photograph of MARY HODGES.
Another sign tells us this is the UNITED WORLDWIDE HOLDINGS (HOLDINGS) COMBAT INITIATIVE COURSE.
Crowley picks up a leaflet from the reception desk, flicks through it, tosses it down.
CROWLEY
This is definitely the place. I wonder where the nuns went.
FREEZE FRAME on the cover of the leaflet on Tadfield Manor.
GOD (V.O.)
Management training no longer meant watching half a dozen unreliable PowerPoint presentations. Firms these days expected more than that. They wanted to establish leadership potential, group cooperation and initiative, which allowed their employees to fire paintballs at any colleagues who had irritated them. The brochure for Tadfield Manor that Crowley is inspecting fails to contain any sentences along the lines of, ‘until eleven years ago the Manor was used as a hospital by an order of Satanic Nuns who weren’t actually very good at it . . .’
And now we can see the Tadfield Manor image darken and change: it becomes the hospital, eleven years ago in the rain.
242EXT. TADFIELD MANOR – DAY
Nigel Tompkins comes to, a little blearily.
He looks down at the gun. We can hear Norman Weathered and Louisa Blatt heading towards us . . .
NORMAN WEATHERED
I’m pretty sure I heard someone around here . . .
And Nigel fires his gun. Only it’s a real gun . . .
243INT. TADFIELD MANOR – DAY
Crowley and Aziraphale are wandering through the building. Ms Frobisher, wearing desert camouflage and carrying a polystyrene cup, waves to them.
FROBISHER
Who’s winning? Millie in Accounts caught me on the elbow.
CROWLEY
You’re all going to lose.
And from outside, we hear gunfire . . .
AZIRAPHALE
What the Hell did you just do?
CROWLEY
Well, they wanted real guns. So I gave them what they wanted.
244EXT. TADFIELD MANOR – DAY
The silent women from Financial Planning, led by Janice Evanson, are crawling through the grass. Everything is shot like a war film. Louisa crawls over to them.
LOUISA
I always said you couldn’t trust those people from Purchasing. The bastards.
JANICE EVANSON
Why? Why would they do this?
LOUISA
That’s the wrong question, Janice. The right question is, can we take them out, before they do it again?
She fires her gun. It’s a semi-automatic weapon that blows a bush apart . . .
245EXT. TADFIELD MANOR GROUNDS – DAY
Pull back. Someone from IT is crawling through the bushes, when an arm goes around his neck.
NIGEL TOMPKINS
You’re from IT, aren’t you?
The IT man nods.
NIGEL TOMPKINS (CONT’D)
Well. IT man. Down there, it’s company law. But up here, it’s me.
CUT TO:
246EXT. TADFIELD MANOR GROUNDS – DAY
It’s all getting very Apocalypse Now.
Norman Weathered is facing a bunch of middle-aged men and women, from the Internal Audits department. He’s making a speech . . . they are moved, enthused and galvanised by it.
NORMAN WEATHERED
I wanted to be a graphic designer, design LPs for The Rolling Stones, but the careers teacher said he hadn’t heard of it. So I spent thirty-six years in the Internal Audits department of United Worldwide Holdings (Holdings). Thirty-six years of double-checking form BF18. And now this. Couldn’t just say, ‘Norman, we’re giving you early retirement. Here’s a watch, bugger off and tend your marigolds.’ No. It’s ‘We’re going to take you to bloody Oxfordshire and shoot at you.’ We’ve all known we couldn’t trust anyone in Forward Planning or Sales. We’ve all seen the Marketing department, and the way they look at us with their skinny lattes and their dry flat whites. These are people who talk about having a personal relationship with a Brand.
Everyone nods. They all hate marketing. As Norman has been talking he has taken off his tie. Now he ties it around his forehead, as a bandana, for those of us who remember Rambo.
NORMAN WEATHERED (CONT’D)
They want war? We’ll give them war. Okay, guys! Let’s get the bastards!
CUT TO:
247INT. TADFIELD MANOR – EVENING
Crowley and Aziraphale are wandering the empty corridors, looking for something, pushing open doors at random . . .
We can hear occasional stutters of gunfire.
AZIRAPHALE
There are people out there shooting at each other!
CROWLEY
It gives weight to their moral arguments. Everyone has free will, including the right to murder . . . Think of it as a microcosm of the universe. Ineffable, right?
AZIRAPHALE
(aghast)
They’re murdering each other?
CROWLEY
(sighs, reluctant)
No. They aren’t. No one’s killing anyone. They are all
having miraculous escapes. It wouldn’t be any fun otherwise.
AZIRAPHALE
You know, Crowley, I’ve always said that, deep down, you are quite a nice—
But he doesn’t get to finish it. Crowley has grabbed him by the shirt-collar, pushed him up against a wall. He pushes his face close to Aziraphale’s and says:
CROWLEY
Just shut it! I’m a demon. I’m not nice. I’m never nice. Nice is a four letter word I will not—
And a voice from behind says,
MARY HODGES
Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m sorry if I’m breaking in on an . . . intimate moment, but . . . Can I help you?
Crowley turns around and sees Mary Hodges. She’s Sister Mary Loquacious, ten years older, no longer a nun . . .
248FLASHBACK – 2007
Crowley handing the baby to Sister Mary . . .
249THE PRESENT:
Crowley walks towards her.
CROWLEY
You!
MARY HODGES
Saints and demons preserve us, it’s Master Crowley!
She turns to flee. And Crowley snaps his finger. Mary FREEZES in place, her eyes blank.
AZIRAPHALE
You didn’t have to do that! You could have just asked her!
CROWLEY
Of course. ‘Excuse me, ma’am, we are two supernatural entities looking for the notorious Son of Satan, I wonder if you could help us with out enquiries?’
AZIRAPHALE
Er. Look, hello, you weren’t by any chance a nun here eleven years ago, were you?
MARY HODGES
I was.
AZIRAPHALE
Luck of the devil!
CROWLEY
What happened to the baby I gave you?
MARY HODGES
I swapped him with the son of the American Ambassador. Such a nice man. He used to be ambassador to Swindon. And then Sister Theresa Garrulous came and took the other baby away.
CROWLEY
This ‘American Ambassador’. What was his name? Where did he come from? What did he do with the baby?
MARY HODGES
I don’t know.
AZIRAPHALE
Records! There must have been records!
MARY HODGES
Yes. There were. We were very good at keeping records.
AZIRAPHALE
Well, where are they?
MARY HODGES
Burned in the fire.
AZIRAPHALE
Well, is there anything you can remember about the baby?
MARY HODGES
He had lovely little toesy-wosies.
The sound of police sirens is getting louder.
250EXT. TADFIELD MANOR – EVENING
We see a couple of police cars, lights flashing, pulling up in the driveway outside.
251INT. TADFIELD MANOR – EVENING
Crowley and Aziraphale can hear the sirens and shouted police orders . . .
POLICE LOUD HAILER
Come out with your hands up. Repeat, come out with your hands over your heads.
CROWLEY
Let’s go.
AZIRAPHALE
(to Mary)
You will wake up having had a lovely dream about whatever you like best—
And Crowley has grabbed Aziraphale and hauled him off down the corridor.
252INT. TADFIELD MANOR – EVENING
Now we follow Crowley and Aziraphale down the stairs and out of the manor hallway: the attendees are being rounded up by the police.
And Crowley and Aziraphale walk through it, never actually running into the police, missing the trainees.
253EXT. TADFIELD MANOR – NIGHT
All lit by police flashing lights. Crowley and Aziraphale are talking as they walk past the police cars and the battles.
AZIRAPHALE
You’d think he’d show up, wouldn’t you? You’d think we could detect him in some way.
CROWLEY
He won’t show up. Not to us. Protective camouflage. He won’t even know it, but his powers will keep him hidden from prying occult forces.
AZIRAPHALE
Occult forces?
CROWLEY
You and me.
AZIRAPHALE
I’m not occult. Angels aren’t occult. We’re ethereal.
CROWLEY
Whatever.
The cop looks down at what he’s holding . . . does a double take. It’s a paint gun.
254EXT. TADFIELD LANE – NIGHT
Anathema. She’s taking a siting down her theodolite, in the moonlight. She’s lit by moonlight and iPad.
GOD (V.O.)
Most books on witchcraft will tell you that witches work naked. This is because most books on witchcraft are written by men.
ANATHEMA
Darksome night, / And shining Moon . . . Oh come on . . .
255EXT. TADFIELD MANOR DRIVE – NIGHT
The Bentley drives casually past police cars with flashing blue lights. Nobody’s noticed them . . .
AZIRAPHALE
Is there some other way of locating him?
CROWLEY
How the Heaven should I know? Armageddon only happens once, you know. They don’t let you go around again until you get it right.
He puts his foot down and the car zooms off down the drive.
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
But I know one thing. If we don’t find him. It won’t be the war to end all wars. It’ll be the war to end everything.
256EXT. TADFIELD LANE – NIGHT
Anathema on her bike, going down a hill, right to left, going back the way she came . . .
257EXT. TADFIELD LANE – NIGHT
Aziraphale is puzzled in the extreme.
AZIRAPHALE
There’s a very peculiar feeling to this whole area. I’m astonished you can’t feel it.
CROWLEY
I don’t feel anything out of the ordinary.
AZIRAPHALE
But it’s everywhere. All around here. Love. Flashes of love.
Crowley is disappointed. He turns much too fast at an intersection . . .
CROWLEY
You’re being ridiculous. The last thing we need right now is—
And there is a THUMP as he hits Anathema on her bike with the car. The bike goes flying, as does the body. The car stops.
AZIRAPHALE
You hit someone.
CROWLEY
I didn’t. Someone hit me.
258EXT. TADFIELD LANE – NIGHT
They get out to examine the damage. There’s a twisted bike, its front wheel bent out of shape, its back wheel still clicking ominously. One Bentley headlight is out. It’s dark.
AZIRAPHALE
Let there be light.
And a beautiful glow suffuses the lane. Anathema, semi-unconscious in the ditch, says:
ANATHEMA
How the hell did you do that?
Light vanishes. Aziraphale looks guilty. The Bentley front headlight that was out pings on, throwing some more light around.
ANATHEMA (CONT’D)
Oh . . . I think I hit my head.
Crowley has no interest in a young lady in a ditch. He is dealing with the important stuff: walking around the car magically repairing the scrape down its side, the dimple in the bumper.
Aziraphale puts his hand on Anathema’s arm, bent at a strange angle.
AZIRAPHALE
Up you get.
(meaningfully)
No bones broken.
The arm is now at a normal angle. Anathema gets up, a bit shakily.
ANATHEMA
My bicycle.
Aziraphale picks it up and wheels it over to her.
AZIRAPHALE
Amazingly resilient, these old machines.
And it’s as good as new. Or better. It has gears, for a start . . .
AZIRAPHALE (CONT’D)
Where do you need to go?
CROWLEY
Not giving her a lift. Out of the question. Nowhere to
put the bike.
AZIRAPHALE
Except the bike rack. Get in, my dear.
Crowley looks and is pained to see that a tartan luggage rack has appeared miraculously on the back of his perfect car.
