Without a backwards glance, Crowley prowled up to the front gate, raised a hand, and clenched his fist. Metal shrieked and squealed as it curled like party streamers. He dropped his hands to his sides, storming in with face growing darker and darker as fire dripped from his fingertips to burn in an aisle of malice that followed him straight to the door. Alarms blared, humans shouted, a cacophony of chaos and panic, music to the demon’s ears. A human raced across the yard, shooting a net his way. A flick of Crowley’s fingers brushed it aside; another flick snapped the human’s spine in two. One less soul to be party to whatever had been done to Aziraphale.
The front door opened and more people poured out into the yard as Crowley started to grin, wider and madder and full of demonic rage. His teeth had already shifted to fangs and now he pulled his sunglasses away and let them fall behind him in the burning grass. Wild snake eyes watched the humans cringe back but he never broke stride.