"Yes, of course," Canton returned, pulling a role of it from the pack he was carrying.
"Please see to it he doesn't disturb us anymore," The Doctor said.
"No, you wouldn't," Crowley shot back as Canton approached, tearing off a piece of duck tape.
"Really? Try me." With that, Canton pressed the tape over his mouth, silencing Crowley, who flailed with an enraged look on his face, which grew progressively redder.
Sam grunted satisfiedly. "You know Crowley, if it was up to me, this would be the least of your problems."
The King of Hell grunted something unintelligible, glaring daggers at him.
Sam smirked darkly.
"Sam? Can I trust you not to do anything rash?" The Doctor interjected, coming to stand beside him now, face grim.
"I don't know why you're suddenly changing tunes, but yeah. Nothing's any different than it was yesterday." Sam replied, frowning. He was going to believe Crowley, over me, he wondered, anger growing inside him.
"In a moment we are all going back to the Tardis. I will escort Dean," The Doctor said, voice serious, "And Canton, you get Crowley."
"Yeah, uh, by the way," Dean interjected, "You idiots realize we can't move, right?" He motioned to the bullet entry wound on his shoulder, which he unceremonionusly stuck his finger into, digging around for the bullet.
The action elicited a wince from Canton, who spoke up suddenly, "Bloody! Stop that! God, you people…demons, whatever. Just because it's not causing you unbearable pain like it would normal creatures doesn't mean it won't bother the rest of us. If you'll quit fidgeting with it for just a moment and I'll have your brother that out. Properly."
"Oh, OK," Dean grinned maliciously, continuing now quite deliberately in his digging at the wound, "Didn't realize you were so easily squicked out. But yeah, you go right ahead, get that thing out for me. Make my life a lot easier."
Canton narrowed his eyes in annoyance as he shuffled in his bag. "To be clear, we're not doing anything because it's convenient for you or your demon friend here—"
"Friend?" Dean scoffed.
Crowley rolled his eyes at this, making an unintelligible noise of frustration.
"We might both be demons, but we're a long friggin way from friends." Dean said.
Sam raised his eyebrows, taking stock of the situation. Good, he thought. The less he's aligned with Crowley, the better. Maybe that will even make this a little easier…
"Now if you're quite finished debating the finer points of your alliances, you could bother cooperating. That bullet's not coming out until you put these on—" Canton pulled out a pair of binding cuffs, which Dean reluctantly allowed to be put on his wrists, making a discontented face.
"And you too, King of the Annoying," Canton said, moving to Crowley now.
The demon glared at him, resisting for a few moments until Sam looked over at him pointedly, saying, "Give up already. You can't move and you don't have a way to get that bullet out unless we do it."
He relented angrily, glaring at Dean, who shrugged. "What, Crowley? You think I did this somehow? If you wanna blame somebody, blame them."
Sam approached him now, taking a pocket knife Canton gave him.
"Don't try anything," Sam cautioned.
"What you already said it yourself. There's nothing I can do until you get the damn thing out." Dean said, "Unless of course you let me do it—"
"Giving you and a knife? I don't think so," Sam shook his head, plunging it into his brother's shoulder as he spoke, eliciting a discomfited grimace from Canton, who paled considerably.
With a few more knife strokes, Sam worked the bullet loose, which squelched free, tumbling out with only a grunt from Dean.
"You really should find tougher people to work with, yknow," Dean muttered, looking at the Doctor as Sam moved to Crowley to remove his bullet.
"Yes, or we could simply avoid the damage done by guns, as I prefer," the Doctor shrugged, which garnered an eye roll from Dean.
"You're lucky this isn't an angel blade," Sam hissed in Crowley's ear as he dug out the bullet from his chest. His comment earned a blank glare from Crowley, whose mouth formed a nonplussed frown from behind the duck tape