Kit couldn't help but wonder sometimes if Adam's hints about John and Crowley being a couple had been an honest-to-god mistake on the boy's part. After all, there was something so inherently right about their interactions; something, she knew from their stilted conversations around her, that she was only seeing pieces of.

And maybe that was good. Maybe she didn't want to know more. But she saw enough, at times, to leave her stinging with regret.

She believed John when he asserted that there was nothing romantic there, but that didn't mean that this relationship was like any he had with his other mates, not even Chas. And she suspected that now, after their recent discussions, she knew why: Crowley let John be himself. He accepted the dichotomy, the good with the bad. He was willing in a way she never had been.

He must have understood more about John's bad shit than she'd ever wanted to hear, and from the looks of things, John repaid in kind. She wasn't jealous, per se; John deserved it, and she hardly felt she could begrudge him that much. But as she watched the two of them in that moment, Kit got the sense that, were she any more sober, such realization -- such demonstration of what she'd never been -- would have been a good deal more upsetting.