Crowley can handle pain----to a point. Hastur's curse is revolting, disgusting, and but mostly painful. Had he been imaginative, he'd have hit Crowley with something festering, something that changed him, something unique. But no, he stuck him with something that ate at his flesh, something normal for a demon. Something easily fixable. What a waste of power.

"He had one solid hit in, and he hit me with this," Crowley hisses. "You know, I don't even think he was really trying."

The salt covers the disgusting creatures, and they shrivel under the dehydrating effects. That's good----prevents Hastur from suddenly reapppearing on their doorstep. That would be something to be seen.

"Couldn't have gotten out of every battle unscathed," he says, and he makes a bandage pack appear in his hand. "It'll need to heal."