"Oh, sit down before you fall down," said Crowley, indicating the expanse of bed next to him. "You're making me dizzy."

He flopped back onto his back, embarrassed at the attention paid to his 'good deed' and trying to find a plausible explanation for why he did it other than 'It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

"And pass that whiskey over, will you. After today, I really need a drink."

Staring at the cuts on his hand, Crowley willed them to heal as he reached for the bottle. They did. Mostly.