The angel shuddered, retracted, as though the action had had some real effect. His expression was grave, twisted slightly with revulsion, and his eyes were hard on Crowley's. His lips parted as though to speak, but instead he pulled away completely, getting to his feet. Giving up his advantage in this haphazard fight.

He stood, half in shadow with only the dingy light of street lamps pooled around them, and barely dared look at Crowley. In that dull, weary moment, it was hard to remember why they were here; why he'd just attacked one of the few demons he'd ever known any sort of sympathy for. But there was just enough of the oppressive weight still tight in his chest to remind him that it was easier not to think about it at all.

"You have your injuries to show," he said tersely. "I think that should be sufficient."