Another tremor, in the wake of Aziraphael's touch, and something that has the shape of a moan - except there's no sound to it, but only a wide, shaky exhale.

It's just that they haven't ever - they have, but never like this, Crowley spread on the mattress and no - no other -

(There's a moment, between one jumbled uncertainty and the next, where Crowley wonders with brief, absurd clarity just how in hell the last few minutes got turned around so quickly.)