"Nobody knows anything for certain until the end," said Crowley cryptically. "I don't care who your authority was. Unless you heard it directly from Him, don't believe it."

He rolled onto his side and rested his head on his hand. It figured that some fucking angel had told John that he wouldn't be allowed into Heaven, making him desperate enough to turn to Lucifer for help extending his mortal life. After the conversation he'd overheard on Halloween, Crowley suspected he knew who it was, but now that he knew Gabriel better, he suspected there was more to the story. Still it made him angry, which was good. He knew anger. Could deal with anger. It was better than despair at any rate. Or terror. Both of which he'd felt quite recently and could formulate no defenses for.

"And honestly, if you'd told me before Adam's birthday, I would have told you not to bother getting healed, but afterwards, well, who knows."