Well, bollocks. Crowley's not really surprised that the blow to the head seems to have accomplished little other than annoying her. She's powerful, that much is obvious, but Crowley's blood is up, and frankly it feels good not to be too busy being scared shitless to fight. So he just grins, brittle and mocking, and hefts the tyre iron in demonstration.

'Haven't touched you yet.'

He twirls the tyre iron, just because he can. 'Let's make a deal, yeah? You don't touch the angel, and I won't try worse than a bit of a tap on the head.'

It's almost certainly partially a bluff, but Crowley isn't sure exactly how much. He's rather playing this by ear.