Gabriel shoved Crowley away, scrambling back himself. Maybe the demon was right, and maybe he was just burning off excess frustrations brought to a boil over the past few days, but Crowley clearly wasn't going to settle for less than a fight.

"Run me down? I've survived much worse than you, Serpent," he spat, and it surprised him the force and vehemence with which the old patterns of speaking returned to him. But then, it had been a short time in which he had considered Crowley anything but the Enemy...

He snatched up the chair he'd so recently been sitting in and swung it at the demon before Crowley could formulate another attack; the action sent a shock of pain through the new wounds oozing at his side, but made a sickening thud upon contact, letting him know he'd hit his target. Let him have his bruises if he must.