At this point Anna wasn't surprised at the way Crowley was gentle with her. They'd been "together" (however you might want to classify that) for at least a month now. She'd seen his less growly side, even if he grumbled all the while. And she was equally unsurprised by Johan's growling. The mutt hadn't left her side for nearly a month now. And since they'd gotten back from New York, he'd hardly moved at all. He just lay there. When she got up to go to the bathroom, he followed. When she tried to move on her own, he was right there supporting her. For a hellhound, he was surprisingly like an actual dog. And surprisingly obedient to her.
Pressing her face against her arm, Anna did her absolute best not to make a sound. There were a couple of gasps as the cloth ripped at the tender skin, but she managed to bite back most of the sounds - or rather, bite into the flesh of her bicep and keep from crying out. Despite how "close" she and Crowley had become, she was at least trying to save face. She was human, she wasn't completely weak. She hadn't completely lost herself, she wasn't going to show him her pain.
Or at least, she didn't want to. She could feel the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes - which were still raw from all the crying she'd done. It hurt. The flesh over her shoulder blades looked like someone had ripped up from the bottom and just tore the skin like paper, and then burnt down into it. It was almost deep enough to see bone. If it wasn't for Gabriel, she probably would have bled out and died a few days ago when she let herself lay bleeding on the floor. It was bad. And it hurt a million times worse than it looked.