Crowley dropped the hose and collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. Raphael's aura was too bright, too harsh, and it felt like being stabbed with a thousand knives.

Laying there, he did not think of Aziraphale, although he would have liked to call the angel's soothing aura and gentle eyes to mind. He didn't think of John, or of Adam, or of whether he'd be able to return to the Manor after being discorporated, or how he was going to get a new body, or if Lucifer knew of his part in Belial's surgery, or any of the things he should be thinking about. Instead he was trying to remember if the Morningstar had ever acted as batshit crazy before the Fall.

"I didn't call you unwanted, motherfucker. That's your own damn paranoia," he finally managed to croak out.

Then Crowley smiled a cruel little smile that never reached his eyes. "But if I were you, I'd start wearing knee pads."