Crowley was not a nurturer. He had been harsh and unaffected in life, and after living close to 400 years, he hadn't ever really picked up the knack for it. He cared about others only so far as he could use them, and Anna was no use to him like this.
He turned to walk away, intending to go back to his own room. He'd leave Johan if the beast wanted to stay by her side, Crowley didn't particularly care. He only had to whistle, for Johan to return to his side.
But he didn't walk out of the cabin. He found himself at the sink, wetting a towel, which he would use to clean the blood and the grime from Anna's broken body. He didn't intend to do any such thing, and as he felt himself do it, he sort of felt compelled, like he had no choice. It was an odd feeling, and he wasn't really sure what to think about it.