[It seemed hideously laughable from the outside that a demon would have a better handle on all of this, but neither of them were what the world thought they should be. That soothes some of the tumbling panic in his chest, though the fact that he's even suggested that Crowley might be a burden tears a small hole in his somewhere. He never knows when to keep his mouth shut.

Finally he does shift, moving his hand away to instead curl his arm over the demon's chest. He sits up just slightly, looking down at Crowley's face. His own is kind of a mess, but the following deserves the honesty.]

Let's not make promises, except for this. We both know that we have no control over how and when this will end, and when that happens...[He pauses, swallowing around knives]...there will be no regrets. No mourning.