Crowley can't remember the last time he actually fought anything. He knows he did. He can remember barfights and wars and all of the good times being a proper demon, but most of the time he would just recruit humans to do the fighting for him. He'd never actually fight himself.

He lays Aziraphale gently on the floor, taking care of his head. Stupid, stupid angel. Couldn't just listen to him, couldn't just help himself when people are apparently being nice all around him. No, he had to just---

He hears them call out to him, and Crowley turns. He blinks, and he's suddenly at the door, locking it as fast as he can, and moving to grab a broom to shove across the handles as a bar.