They weren't ghosts to Crowley yet; not just because his father was still alive in there, somewhere, but because not enough time had gone by. More were the moments when Crowley forgot that his mother was gone than those when he remembered. Crowley was still only straddling the line between acceptance and disbelief. It was screwed up, how often and easily he forgot. Though he supposed now with his uncle here, he never would again. Better off that way, all things considered. Crowley hated the realization anyway.
There was a moment between Sunny's thanks and the next thing he said when Crowley's brow furrowed as he understood how awkward this had to be for his uncle. How hostile he was being to the one person he had left in the world. Crowley wanted to apologize, explain that this wasn't him and he didn't know who this was, or why he couldn't be himself; but the words wouldn't come and so he just looked away. "Um," He began. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, though he felt like there was a boulder in his stomach. He should eat, though; he knew that. And it might just be a way for Sunny to feel less shitty, if he was feeling shitty at all. Crowley couldn't be the only one. "No, I've not really been hungry." He confessed, rubbing his neck. "But I could...should eat. And you too, probably." There. That was the very best Crowley could do right now.