Crowley caught the Angel as she felt him give in, sighing. He was becoming easier and easier to drain, and she would have to face the fact that his life was running out, and soon.
It was almost- almost- enough to make her worry.
She carried the limp body to the bed with a strength far beyond one of her stature, laying him on the sheets before moving to cover him. She would stay in the room, near her pet, until she felt he was stable again; it was more to conserve her energy supply, than out of any real concern for the pet. At least, she told herself as much.