Crowley didn’t trust even himself. The flutter of wings went almost unheard by the demon, the blood pounding in his ears almost enough to mask it. Almost. The fact that he was no longer alone made him jolt, the terror of the prospect that this might not be over taking control of his broken form and making him react. He was like a beaten dog, recoiling back into the seat with averted eyes and ducked head, the heels of the shoes he’d been dressed in scraping futility against the foot rest. He wasn’t trying to fight, but trying to simply not exist; to slink back and away from whoever it was that had come to bring more harm.
When it was Castiel’s hands that found the buckles of his restraints, even Crowley was forced to look up. This was nothing that he could have seen coming, even if he had tried. Castiel, the angel’s name that had been on the lips of so many, bent over him and freeing him from his bonds.
And Crowley trusted none of it.
“No.” Was the only word that raked over his vocal chords, even as he put up no other fight. Had he been more aware, he would have noted the trembling of Castiel’s hands, the terror in his eyes, the hurriedness of his actions. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t, and all he could think was that this was a ruse of his captor’s, meant to make him believe he was being rescued, to test him. And he put up as much of a resistance that he could.
Which was next to nothing.
He didn’t know if Cas even felt him try and squirm against him when he fell heavily into his arms, if he felt the labored breaths and the scared trembles of his feeble attempts at getting back in the chair. If he had, it didn’t seem to matter, and as quickly as Cas had appeared they were preparing to leave, Crowley’s weak form slumped against the angel that had freed him.
It wouldn’t be long, before the escape was noticed. In this world where the Host ruled all, it was hard to get away for even minutes sometimes, let alone bolt free of it. Even as he was trying to get a vaguely struggling demon free of his bonds, Castiel was wholly aware of how quickly they were running out of time.
He did feel Crowley struggle, but it was so feeble that it was easily overridden. Castiel figured, probably rightly, that nothing felt like reality to the demon right now, and that he would not be oriented enough to accept anything, let alone actively help in his own escape. As such, Castiel bypassed it; looped arms around that shivering mortal body (the soul long since ripped out, leaving only the demon) and flew them hard and fast out of there.
Gabriel’s rendezvous was on a newly scoured, cleaned, thriving place once called Love Canal. Castiel knew when he landed with Crowley, they would only be there for a few moments. Still a few too many when on run from the Host.
“--thank Dad-- wait.” Gabriel appeared just as he was supposed to when the specialized spellwork identifying the angel landing activated. But clearly, from his expression, he didn’t expect Castiel to have a passenger. Both of them looking spooked, though only one looked completely disassembled. “Oh, for-- okay, Castiel. That’s Crowley, right? Last red eyes hanging around. Or-- you know, not hanging around.”
“I couldn’t leave him there.” Castiel was bristled and anxious, and darted glances around expecting trouble. “Will you help?”
Gabriel palmed down his face, but one moment later, they were standing in a clearing in a river valley; the air was crisp, clean and this place had not been ‘scrubbed’ as hard as others. “I can hide you two here for awhile. See if you can put Crowley back together. But you only got ten square miles, comprende? Any more and you’re outside my influence. You’ll feel it before you hit it, though.”