"They're not pretty," Crowley says, petulantly, folding them back up into hammerspace. "They're remnants of being an angel."

To Crowley, they're really just a sign of his Falling. Demons with their large, black wings showing off how impure they are. He doubts the human soldier person would understand.

He leans heavily on the human soldier person as they walk. He can swear he sees hands in the woods, reaching out to him. More hallucinations?