"John," he murmured, tracing the resemblance again in wonder. Just because reproduction was often a nasty, brutal, and disgusting sort of thing didn't mean it wasn't also a miracle. And to imagine a child, a mix of John and Zatanna, good-looking, smart, charming, a magnet for the occult, possibly quite powerful... it made Crowley uncomfortable. Worried, he would have called it, if he experienced such things. Concerned about the welfare of someone he'd never even met. He wondered if parents felt this way when they saw their kids for the first time and decided not to ask.

The demon nodded, understanding immediately what she was asking and taking on that responsibility. He felt he owed at least that much to John. The darker, more cynical part of Crowley thought that if John had taken a shine to him, it was because he was quite possibly the man's last chance at any sort of salvation. Funny that. But the small part of him that had clearly spent too much time around angels thought about their unlikely friendship - and the bond that had formed after sharing the same feelings and memories - and wondered if John could have done anything else. If he hadn't, it'd be like rejecting a part of himself. Or a child...

He snorted. "Durable friends, huh. Well, that depends on Adam, I think, but I've been pretty resilient so far. If John needs to know and we can't get hold of you, I will tell him. But not unless or until it's necessary. That acceptable?"