There never need be longing in your eyes
As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
There is nothing in the world Mary Winchester loves more than her darling little boys.
Azazel knows this.
He watches from the shadows as she holds the youngest one- thedemonboyking, the savior of his kind- and smiles as she sings softly to the baby in her arms. When she leaves, he slips past the Devil's Trap painted on the floor and looks down into the crib, smiling as the child looks up at him with innocent eyes. Azazel reaches inside, cooing softly in the motherly voice of his current host (the next door neighbor's wife) and gently hoisting him into his arms.
"You're gonna grow up strong, aren't you?" He breathes, pulling a blade and gently slicing his own wrist, gleaming gold eyes never leaving the child's face.
Azazel pressed his wrist against Sam Winchester's infant mouth, purring in contentment as the leaking blood was suckled into the babe's tiny mouth eagerly, seeping into the child's bloodstream and strengthening -poisoning- him from within.
"Yes, drink up, my boy. Drink so you can devour the world when the time comes," he praised dreamily. Sam let go of his wrist with a pop, eyes blinking sleepily, traces of obsidian black slowly creeping over the normal color of his warm brown eyes.
The yellow-eyed demon wiped his lips tenderly and patted the infant's head before placing him back in the crib gently, rocking the structure softly to help the babe fall asleep.
"I'll be back again, Sammy," Azazel whispered quietly. "And I will shape your destiny with my own hands."
Satisfied, he climbed out the window and abandoned his host, counting down to the day his deal with Mary Winchester would be realized, and he could finally come to collect his prize.
A/N- Just a little drabble I had to write. Lyrics are from 'The Hand That Rocks The Cradle' by The Smiths.
