From his suddenly prone position on the ground, Crowley glared murderously up at Gabriel, barely feeling the effects of the weak attack through the adrenalin rush. "Don't fucking patronize me, angel," he spat. "I am sick and tired of righteous arseholes telling me what I want to do or ought to do. I'm not a child to be ordered about for my own good. I'm a demon. I'm as old as you are, I have vastly more experience of the three planes than you do, and I know what the fuck I'm doing."

He scrambled to his feet. "I've made my choices, Messenger, and I know what side I'm on. If you don't trust me, fine, but if you get in my way I will run you down."

Fighting the impulse to extend his battered wings - they'd be of no help now - Crowley darted to one side and raked at Gabriel's side, aiming a knee into his solar plexus at the same time.