Crowley braced himself for the aggression, but seemed to accept it, this time; he returned the kiss, and the grinding, hands roughly gripping the other demon's shirt, clinging to him, needing the physical reminder that he, at least, was still there.
The anger was giving way to immense guilt, another unfamiliar emotion; it was his fault their daughter had left. He should have paid attention to her, should have taken better care of her. Should have loved Zeke- his angel- better. That was what she was; an expression of his love, for Zira. And with that love fading, and Zira renamed, it made sense, that she faded along with it.