Crowley, your husband. A man who lived by the statement “If she sheds a tear, I will tear your heart out” had just discovered you crying in the bathroom.

"Darling? What’s wrong?"

He quickly rushed over by your side, cupping your cheek gently, delicately, as if you were an extremely fragile object. He wiped your tears with his thumbs and tilted your chin up, so you had to look at him.

He looked furious- no, rageful. Not at you, though. Never at you. But rather, at the unfortunate being who did this to you.

"Talk to me, sweetheart. Please."