There’s a nose and a single eye, way too close for comfort. A close-up shot of the left side of Olivia Nathan’s face, who is hunched over the camera with ruffled hair and feathers that a human shouldn’t have – not even cryptid blogger LiviaThan. A small, disoriented duck is sitting on her shoulder and looking around, trying to decide which way is up – and if gravity can hurt him. They’re surrounded by trees, except where there are several black spots directly on the lens. Liv cleans them away by wiping her thumb over the camera.

Liv: Sorry! (She sounds out of breath and is talking in a hushed voice.) Bird-strike. We’re back online! Mrs. Device, can you hear me?

There is a small pause in which she seems to listen for some sort of confirmation. After a second, she looks relieved, taps a white gadget in her ear and gives a thumbs-up into the recording.

Liv gets up from the ground, and we, the viewers (and a confused duck) with her. In the middle-distance behind the bird are three figures: One in black, one in white, and one in greens and browns. The latter two wave in our direction. All of them are swarmed by an entire Hitchcock-movie of excited ducks.

Angry sounding voice: Who’s there?

Liv: (whispering to the camera) It’s that angel we saw. Sandalphon. They’re guarding the book-stand. …I think you should take the phone away from Uriel again. It’s probably better we don’t keep her updated on everything.

While Liv makes her way back to her group, she passes a duck on the ground who is pecking at a pair of sunglasses that look suspiciously familiar. Further down the way, we see Mr. Crowley, bare-eyed after the kerfuffle, and currently in the process of winding up to throw a live, adult duck in the direction of the angry voice.

Muriel: Don’t!

Crowley: They both deserve it.

Liv: I don’t think duck-based violence is the solution.

Sandalphon: I can hear you whispering! Come out!

Duck: Quack!

Sandalphon: What did you just call me???

Duck: Quahaack!

Crowley: (to the duck) Fine, you can stay. (He puts the duck down.)

Locksley: What’s that fella done to you to deserve a duck to the face?

Crowley: After the last apocalypse, they tried to set my only friend on fire.

Locksley: (raising both eyebrows) Yeah, alright, that’ll do it.

Sandalphon: What are you whispering about?! Show yourself!

Muriel: I think they might have noticed us.

Liv: Ya think?

Crowley: It’s fine. Most angel are dim. This one’s even dimmer. You! (He turns to Mr. Locksley.) Your job is to not be seen, do you understand me? Do better than whenever you’re engaging in your favourite hobby of trying to steal the bookshop till!

Locksley: You gotcha, Sheriff!

Mr. Locksley salutes Mr. Crowley with two fingers, sidesteps awkwardly towards the treeline, and then picks up a fallen branch to hold in front of his face while he merges into the greenery. The rest of the group silently watches the entire ordeal until he has vanished from sight.

Crowley: (with the dryness of a desert after a month-long drought) Perfect. We might not have anything to counter an army of angels, but in case we ever need to fight a Scottish regicide, we have the moving woods of Birnam on our side.

Liv: What do we do now?

Crowley: Muriel, remember what I told you to do in Heaven in case you get busted?

Muriel: Y-yes?

Crowley: This is your entrance! Go play your scene!

Muriel: B-but I’m not very good at lying…!

Crowley: Oh, bollocks, remember how you told Aziraphale and me you’re a human Inspector-Constable-Bobby and you’ve been around only for 200 years and would appreciate to look at a cup of tea?

Muriel: I mean- yes?

Crowley: We nearly believed you!

Muriel: (visibly relieved) Really?

Crowley: Yeah, for almost half an entire second!

Muriel: (nodding) Alright! I’ve got this! (some more nodding)

They straighten up, remove a stray duck from their foot and clamp it between their arm and hip like a service baton. Satisfied with their stature, they march farther down the path and towards the voice of Sandalphon.

Liv: Uh… Not to be a Debbie Downer but those lies you were encouraging them with don’t sound the most convincing.

Crowley: Oh, yes, Muriel is terrible at lying.

Liv: Then why don’t you go and do it?

Crowley: Because I’m a demon and I am terrific at lying. And when you’re terrific at lying, people expect you to lie. Whereas, when you’re Muriel and you almost throw up whenever you have to tell a lie…

Liv: People expect you to tell the truth?

Crowley: Exactly.

Liv: So that’s why you’re sending them?

Crowley: That and the fact that I am being nibbled at by about 26 ducks right now.

Liv and the camera do a double take by panning all the way down from Crowley’s head over a dozen ducks to Crowley’s duck-infested feet and up again to his impassive face.

Liv: You know what, in this insane plan, that’s as good a reason as any. (pause) You do know that this is why there’s signs everywhere to not feed the ducks, right?

Crowley: Demon. Don’t follow the rules.

Liv: And how’s that working out for you?

Muriel’s voice: Oh, hello! Hello, Sandalphon!

Since Liv is apparently not going to get an answer from the living equivalent of a poultry clown-car, the camera turns to film the bandstand again, where Muriel (still armed to the ducks) is squaring up to the person in the light-brown coat.

Sandalphon: You… (narrowing their eyes at them) You haven’t been around in ages! What are you doing here?

Muriel: Oh, the- the Supreme Archangel sent me. He said to tell you that you’ve done an outstanding job at guarding the… the…

They lean to the side to look past Sandalphon and towards the book-stand on the platform, which is very, very empty.

Muriel: …the book… -stand!

Sandalphon: I know. I’ve been guarding it. And it’s still here.

Muriel: But I… uh… am sent to take a look… uhh… at the Book of Life?

Crowley: (facepalming) Maybe we should’ve taken a quick lesson in adapting a plan on the fly…

Sandalphon: The Book of Life is gone. We don’t know where it is. (his eyes narrow further) Shouldn’t the Supreme Archangel know that? Since it’s his responsibility? If Aziraphale doesn’t even know what’s going on directly under his nose, then I don’t think I need to take orders from him anymore. What – was he too busy frolicking wherever he has vanished to, with his traitor of a demon?

Muriel: Uh… Do you mean Crowley is a traitor because he is a demon or that he is a traitor to demons because he’s betrayed Hell? Because the second one kind of sounds like he should be back to not being a traitor to us anymore-

Duck on Mr. Crowley’s foot: Quack! (It was an agreeing sound.)

Sandalphon: (immediately snapping to attention) Did you hear that? There’s someone lurking around…!

Muriel: Oh, uh… that was us!

They squeeze the duck under their arm until it makes a surprised quacking sound and starts kicking its feet as if it is trying to paddle away from the angel holding it.

Sandalphon: Who is “us”? Why do you have that… that thing?

Muriel: This is… uhh… my service-… I have him with me because…

Crowley: (mumbling to himself as he is watching the scene) Come on! Improvise!

Muriel: …because this is Aziraphale! Yes! He has not vanished because he is in fact right here! (They take the duck between both hands and thrust it forward for Sandalphon to see.) So you still need to follow his orders because he is right here!

Liv: …do we still want them to improvise, or-…??

Sandalphon: What? What happened to his corporation?

Muriel: He had to disguise himself because… because this is a surprise inspection! Of the book-stand safety arrangements! And you passed!

Sandalphon: Of course I passed. Why did I pass?

Muriel: Because we were testing… uh… Tell him, Aziraphale!

Muriel starts shaking the duck up and down in a fit of desperation so that it lets out a weird mix of a Doppler effect-quack and the scream you usually only hear at the foot of a drop-tower in an amusement park.

Muriel: (visibly sweating) … That!

They stand there. One of them brandishing a quacking weapon. One of them looking like they are about to pull out a less feathery one.

Sandalphon is staring at Muriel, slowly narrowing their eyes like a cowboy before a duel. An old, discarded plastic bag blows past them like tumbleweed.

Sandalphon wriggles their fingers – they are about to say something.

Muriel is holding a duck.

Liv: Uh… should we do something before one of them says “draw”?

Crowley: Shush. It’s working.

He is staring at something behind the two duck-duelling angels – Liv looks closer and the camera zooms in. Inside the bandstand is a figure, looking out of place with their green and brown clothes in this park that seems to hold mostly white suit-wearers: Mr. Locksley is carefully sneaking up to the gleaming-white podium and grabs it.

Liv: (whispering) Oh! Wow, the distractions actually worked! Both from Madame Tracy and Muriel! Now we can…

The burglar pulls. The book-stand moves not one iota.

Liv: Just how heavy is that goddamn thing?!?

Crowley: Why are you asking me?! How should I know? I’ve never interacted with that bloody thing in my life!

Liv: I guess then we’ll just have to hope either Mr. Locksley very quickly does some core-muscle exercises or that Muriel can get that jackass to leave!

Muriel: (voice shaking) Well? Has that cleared things up? What the Aziraphale just quacked… uh… said?

Sandalphon: Hmm, yes. (They speak directly to the duck in Muriel’s hands.) Of course I understand why such tests would have been necessary with other angels. But me, I have everything under control, Supreme Archangel.

In the background, Mr. Locksley is currently trying to use his jacket as a wire rope hoist around the book-stand and tries to use the leverage he gets from pulling almost horizontally on both sleeves like an ox before a cart.

Sandalphon: Nobody can get past me to the book – well… the book-stand – without proper authorisation!

The shoulder-seam of Mr. Locksley’s jacket rips open and the burglar splats flat on his nose.

Muriel: I see! That- uh… (turning around to try and find Crowley, and with him possibly any kind of guidance) -that should have been enough. For a test, I mean.

Mr. Crowley catches their eye and makes a rotating gesture with his hand to indicate that Muriel should keep going.

Muriel: (audibly unhappy) Oh, but I am really bad at improvising! …tests. At improvising tests. So thank you, Sandalphon, for passing this one with flying colours!

They try to pump their fist in an encouraging way at their colleague, but seem to have forgotten that they’re still holding a wild, and now mildly perturbed animal with shaken baby syndrome; so the duck frees itself, starts to flutter away and – in its current state of vertigo – misses the exit by a few inches and flaps furiously in Muriel’s face for a moment.

Muriel: AH!

They shove the duck away and it flies off. At the same time, Mr. Locksley is gathering the remains of his clothes, hops over the fence and steps around the bandstand to hide behind one of its too-narrow columns.

Muriel: I might have deserved that…

Sandalphon: So, what is it?

Muriel: What is what?

Sandalphon: My reward for my commendable service.

Muriel: Right! Uh… You’re being promoted!

Sandalphon: (getting excited) Wait, really?

Muriel: Yes! To first prayer tax inspector of Heaven! You should go up there right now and start calculating! Before the first prayers slip by and go untaxed.

Sandalphon: (decidedly less excited) Oh. Could I maybe have a word about that with Aziraphale-

Sandalphon takes a step towards the ruffled duck that has landed a few feet farther away from them, and that is currently trying to rearrange its feathers into something at least resembling a groomed plumage. When it sees one of the two people who have shaken it like a snowglobe in the world’s weirdest duel, it aggressively hisses in Sandalphon’s direction and waddles off into the pond.

Sandalphon: (under their breath) This waster of an angel doesn’t deserve to be Supreme Archangel to begin with. As soon as he trips up, I will be there and get promoted again, to Supreme Archangel this time!

Still grousing, Sandalphon marches off in the direction of the park’s exit.

Muriel: (calling after them) That’s the wrong way to the lift to Heaven…!

But Sandalphon does not react and slowly vanishes in the distance.

Muriel: Oh dear.

Mr. Crowley and Liv quickly close up to them.

Crowley: You did a surprisingly good job there.

Muriel: Really? (They beam at him.) Thank you!!

Crowley: (clearly uncomfortable with the ray of sunshine that he finds suddenly directed at him) Yeah, well. Gotta admit that could’ve gone worse.

Behind the bandstand, the last member of the team jumps up from his crouch and raises a fist triumphantly.

Locksley: Well done, team!

Crowley: You don’t deserve any credit.

Liv: To be honest, this is partly on you, Mr. Crowley! I don’t know why you thought a burglar that couldn’t even break into a bookshop undetected could steal an entire book-stand.

Crowley: (flashing his ivories at her) Oh, excuse me! I wasn’t aware I asked the cryptid hunter who didn’t find anything out of the ordinary in a bookshop with three angels, one demon and a giant snake skin in it while she was filming four videos in there.

Liv: Okay, rude!

Crowley: Now, let’s- (He makes for the book-stand inside the pavilion when suddenly...)

New voice: And just where do you think you’re going?

The team turns, and with them the camera, to reveal another angel coming towards them in what looks like a hovering wheelchair without wheels. A hoverchair.

Crowley: (grins in a way that looks more like baring teeth) Ah, so nice to see you again…

He makes a twirling motion with his index-finger.

Angel: (not impressed) Saraqael.

Instead of at least doing her the courtesy of repeating her name, Crowley snaps the previously twirling fingers at her and points.

Saraqael: Charming as always.

She comes to a stand immediately in front of Crowley, between the group and the stone steps that lead up the bandstand.

Saraqael: (cont.) So what obvious lie have you planned to tell me why you are here? And with two humans, no less. I see your taste in company has not improved.

Muriel flinches a little at that, but stays quiet.

Crowley: Don’t you want to erase their memories like your lot tried with the two humans in the bookshop, last time?

Saraqael: I don’t see why. That would only be a waste of miracles, now that humanity is about to end.

Crowley: You seem awfully sure about that.

Saraqael: Hm. Judgement is coming. For your human pets and you. I don’t think it will be pleasant for someone who is already branded a sinner.

She says this, ironically, without judgement in her voice.

Saraqael: (cont.) All we need is the Son.

Crowley: Ah, that’s too bad for us. (He shoves both hands into his pockets and ducks his head like a crow, while he crosses his left leg in front of his right and lets the movement carry him step by step past the angel and towards the bandstand.) I’m sure you have baby Jesus locked and loaded and ready to go, soooo… don’t have much time left, better savour it if you’ll excuse me.

Saraqael: (louder, but without turning her head) Of course we don’t know where the Son is. (turning entirely around to face Crowley) Your… friend… has seen to that.

Crowley: (blowing a raspberry with faux innocence) I don’t know what you’re talking about. (sauntering up the steps) But it sounds to me like you’re in the habit of losing things. Angels, Books, Sons. Should keep a sharper eye on those, if you ask me.

Saraqael: (unimpressed) You want the Book to find Aziraphale.

Crowley: (stops and turns around towards Saraqael) You want the Book to find the Son of God.

Saraqael: You know how to bring back the book.

A pause.

Crowley: I do.

Saraqael: Go ahead. I will not stop you.

Mr. Crowley pulls his shoulders back, head straightening, hands still in his pockets. He repeats, more slowly:

Crowley: You want your book.

Saraqael: You want your angel.

Another pause. It’s the second duel we’re witnessing today, and one of their swords is about to lunge.

Saraqael: You need the Book to tell you where he is.

Crowley: Nah, I know. I know exactly where Aziraphale is.

Saraqael: And you expect me to believe that? Where then?

Crowley: Right here. He’s been right here, under all your noses, the entire time.

Saraqael grunts in disbelief.

Crowley: Or not. Not “the entire time”. No time at all, actually. Do you know what happens when the Book of Life stops writing about something – anything? It just… stops. Right then and there. Anything in this entire universe, just dropping right out of time. No matter how important. Even the Voice of God. Even the Supreme Archangel. Even…

He looks at Saraqael. But she makes no move to stop him from what he is about to do – or reveal.

Crowley: …Even the Book of Life itself. Just snatched away from the flow of time, where none of you can reach it and find the boy who is going to end the world.

Saraqael: (mouth twisting) Then Aziraphale’s lost. Sacrificed himself to keep the Book of Life from us. And for what? A few more months? Weeks? We can find the Son of God without it. He’s somewhere on this planet and we have all the time that’s left in the world.

Crowley: Oh, but you don’t. Not if Aziraphale and I are faster. You made one mistake – one crucial mistake. You made the Son of God human. That kid doesn’t want to end the world. And you’re not going to talk a human out of his free will. Not on our watch. Not if we’re there to remind him that the choice is his, and with him, humanity’s. The choice was always theirs. Aziraphale and I are not going to let you take it from them.

Saraqael: There is no Aziraphale anymore. You said so yourself. He’s not coming back. I don’t know any angel who can just stop and un-stop time.

Crowley: No.

Again, Crowley bares his teeth in a grin.

Crowley: (cont.) No angel. Not anymore.

Saraqael: You…?

Her eyes widen for a second in understanding before she catches herself and schools her face in stoicism once more.

Crowley: You should’ve paid more attention to the last time we stopped an apocalypse. You can’t teach a starmaker how to start time and expect him to ever forget!

Saraqael: If you’re right and he is outside of time together with the stopped Book of Life, then you can’t bring one back without the other. What’s more important to you? To save the world or to save Aziraphale?

Crowley cocks his head to the side, then back, until he looks at Saraqael past the bridge of his nose. He takes one slow step down, towards her – and it’s the first time the light catches the sharp yellow of his eyes that is surrounding slitted pupils.

Crowley: Who says I can’t do both?

Saraqael: Still asking questions you should already know the answer to.

Crowley: I do know.

He turns around again and steps in front of the empty book-stand, reaching his right hand towards where a book should lie. When you try to look at this space, it’s gleaming – so bright it almost melts into the background – as if it’s phasing in and out of existence.

Crowley looks back at Saraqael, who is watching him with pursed lips.

Crowley: Good luck. You’ll need it.

And with a sudden bellow of exertion, Crowley throws both his arms into the air and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time

 

 

 

a͂̉͛n̢̡̕d̴͕̈́ t̙ͪ͠i͔̳̍m̹̂̿e̡̠̝

 

 

 

 

 

 

ȁ̶̧͎̻̱̓̾͘ņ̻̫̭̥͊ͨ͑̽d̢͇͙͈̰ͪͯ̔̊ ṫ̸̨̞ͨ̉̃ͩ͏ȋ̵̼͉̠͉̮͐͂m̨̡̪͓̻͗͌̑͡e͓̙̬̮̠ͪ̈́͊ͅ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a̦͈̱͔̝̹̝͕̗ͧ͊͋ͩ̍ͪ̀̉̓̿̉̓͋͌ͬ̇̅̒̃͟͞ͅn̸̨̨͓̦̠̯̻̰̬͙̥͇̓̆̾ͮ̅ͩ̍͗ͣ̏͌ͬͫ͛͊̈́̍͛d̵̞̠͙̜͖̟͓̠̔̂̉̃͌ͩͯͥ̔̎̆̅̆ͥ̔͆͗́͢͟͜͞ t̵̨̧̯͈̞̯͚͍̮͓̹ͥͤͧ̀́̊͊ͧ̋̈ͦͯ͘͘͡͝͝͝ͅi̢̨̛̺̥͕̘̤̝͖͓ͤ̓̅̃ͬͫ͌ͤ̏̀̀̓̔ͣ̽̊͆̕͘͢m̵̸̶̧̛̲̫̫͕̺̦͔͇̖̅̔̓̈́̾̊ͦ̆̂̇͗̂̃ͫ͟͟ͅe̴̶̡̡̟̜̥̱̼͎̺̝̣̖̊͆̒ͬ̋̅̃ͥ̋ͤͮ́͌ͩͯ̕͢