When Crowley shoved forward again with his power, it ached -- and Crowley hissed to himself as the Voiding technology worked its methaphorical magic. As he focused on that, the cuff snapped around Crowley's wrist, and the demon's eyes widened slightly as the sigil activated.
It hurt. It felt as if something was being pressed against his soul -- what was left of his soul, anyway -- and with the metal reacting negatively against his flesh and the sigil reacting against him, Crowley wanted nothing more than to leave his host and find another, but he gritted his teeth against the instinct to abandon ship.
He had options.
> Pray for Castiel.
Ha. Over his dead body. For starters, Crowley wasn't going to pray to anything, and for another, even if Crowley could work up the gall to pray to an angel, bringing Castiel here would only trap him in the same position. If this individual had such knowledge as to dismantle a demon, he surely could know the same for an angel. And the last time Castiel had a banishing sigil placed upon him, he had had his angelic powers ripped from him in what Crowley assumed was an extraordinarily painful manner. Enduring this idiotic torture for himself was bad enough -- submitting someone else to it was out of the question.
> Call for his dog.
The surrounding area was proofed for hellhounds -- something only a few individuals in the Port knew how to do, which narrowed down the culprits significantly, in Crowley's whirring mind. Besides, even if they weren't, this psychopath could just kill her with a silver bullet or something even worse, and that, too, was out of the question.
> Break the seals and kill the idiot himself.
Crowley was a powerful demon, but there was only so much he could do when he was weakened. And with the Devil's Trap now on his wrist, he was as good as mortal, if not worse. His injuries were slowing him down, the effect of iron still stinging on his skin, and he was growing weaker. He needed to recuperate -- hide away, but in order to do that, he needed to get out of here.
That left only one option.
> Punch him in the face.
Which was precisely what Crowley did.
And, shockingly, he was actually rather good at it.
no subject
It hurt. It felt as if something was being pressed against his soul -- what was left of his soul, anyway -- and with the metal reacting negatively against his flesh and the sigil reacting against him, Crowley wanted nothing more than to leave his host and find another, but he gritted his teeth against the instinct to abandon ship.
He had options.
> Pray for Castiel.
Ha. Over his dead body. For starters, Crowley wasn't going to pray to anything, and for another, even if Crowley could work up the gall to pray to an angel, bringing Castiel here would only trap him in the same position. If this individual had such knowledge as to dismantle a demon, he surely could know the same for an angel. And the last time Castiel had a banishing sigil placed upon him, he had had his angelic powers ripped from him in what Crowley assumed was an extraordinarily painful manner. Enduring this idiotic torture for himself was bad enough -- submitting someone else to it was out of the question.
> Call for his dog.
The surrounding area was proofed for hellhounds -- something only a few individuals in the Port knew how to do, which narrowed down the culprits significantly, in Crowley's whirring mind. Besides, even if they weren't, this psychopath could just kill her with a silver bullet or something even worse, and that, too, was out of the question.
> Break the seals and kill the idiot himself.
Crowley was a powerful demon, but there was only so much he could do when he was weakened. And with the Devil's Trap now on his wrist, he was as good as mortal, if not worse. His injuries were slowing him down, the effect of iron still stinging on his skin, and he was growing weaker. He needed to recuperate -- hide away, but in order to do that, he needed to get out of here.
That left only one option.
> Punch him in the face.
Which was precisely what Crowley did.
And, shockingly, he was actually rather good at it.