He used to feel love around every corner he turned. He had much of it to spare, of course, and his whole shop was doused in it. In the middle of Soho he was surrounded by it, of all walks of life, all sorts. Couples, families, friends... people and their pets, people pressed against shop windows and walking by with snacks and balloons in the summer and wrapped gifts in the winter.

It felt so empty, recently, without being reminded every waking moment (and that was every moment) of the human capacity for the emotion.

And so, one day walking around the ruins of the castle, when he feels trickles of something familiar, he feels the relief like taking a breath after breaking water, like stepping in from the cold. "Crowley!" he calls, wondering where he'd slinked off to. He hadn't drunk a tea, which meant - maybe - maybe it was starting to come back naturally. Maybe it was growing back! There was so much more with it that he couldn't place, but that was probably just an after-effect.