"Shit!" Crowley cries out as the other creature leaps at him, jaws snapping. He imagines a cricket bat in his hand and takes a swing at it, aiming for those teeth.

But that's not effective, is it? Just a bat, just a weapon. He thinks about how the muzzle worked, how it stopped the monster in its tracks. If he can think creatively, maybe he can throw this dog off, too.

He thinks about what he knows about dogs. They're large and smelly and generally annoying, but Crowley knows they can be tamed. Tamed how? By treats. He looks at the cricket bat and imagines it as a large bone instead.

Something to tempt the hound, perhaps?