It wasn't until he was staring down into the crib that contained Samuel Winchester that he realized that he had gotten too attached to the image he was carrying.
Azazel the general of Hell and son of Lucifer. Azazel the one who wore the skin and body of John Winchester. Azazel who had married Mary Campbell in this form and had held her hand in her first birth of Dean Winchester and four years later her second birth of Samuel Winchester.
Azazel who was staring down at the child that could be considered his son in the nursery as the child slept on oblivious to his surroundings.
He reached out, his hand whose wrist he could cut with a single thought so that the precious blood would fall into the child's open mouth, he reached out-
He knew. He was commanded. He needed to build an army of special children. He needed one of them to kill the others. To get the Colt and release hell on earth. He needed that special child. Sam Winchester, the proclaimed boy king of hell. Whispered voices deep in the pits telling that he was the mighty vessel of Lucifer himself.
-and he pulled the blanket up more so the child wouldn't get cold in the night.
Sammy shuffled slightly in his sleep, cocooned in his blankets tight and warm and filled with love, and gave a sigh as he settled back into his bed. His eyes opened slightly to reveal the slightest sliver of unfocused hazel eyes that stared at him for a moment before they closed once more.
Movement and sound alerted him to someone being in the hallway. Moving quickly he fell to the shadows and with a single thought merged himself with the darkness.
He watched silently as Dean, Mary's firstborn and her precious boy, opened the door to the nursery and peered inside. When he saw no one else there he entered the room and quietly closed the door behind him. He quickly crossed the room and scrambled up the footstool at the side of the crib that Mary had placed there so he could look in and see his brother.
Azazel watched intently as Dean gazed into the crib at his younger brother. He reached a hand and through the bars Azazel could see Dean's finger trace Sam's little hand.
Nodding to himself Dean jumped off the footstool and went to the corner of the crib where he pulled the switch inside of it, with the care of a thief he lowered the side of the crib and climbed into the crib before bringing the side up once more and locking it in. he curled around his brother, petting Sam's lightly and gently while whispering to him.
Azazel couldn't help the fond smile on his face as he watched the two brothers through the bars. He allowed the sounds of the house fall into his ears as he shifted slightly and closed his eyes in enjoyment; the settling of the house, Mary sleeping in their bed just down the hallway, Deans whispering to his brother.
The smell of blood that suddenly permeated the air.
His eyes snapped open and he breathed in deeply.
Clear as anything and as easily definable as the true colors of his eyes. Blood had been spilt in the room.
He quickly crossed the room to the crib, his borrowed heart suddenly pounding hard and fast in his chest. He barely remembered to keep himself invisible to the naked eye as he clutched the side of the crib and peered into it.
Dean had his own slightly scratched wrist held above Sam's mouth and watched with fascination as the droplets of blood was slowly trailing down his arm and into Sam's mouth. Dean brought his other hand up and dug his nails, nails that had dried blood and bits of skin under them Azazel noticed, and scratched harder and dug into the cuts. The blood sluggishly fell down and twirled around his fingers and continued to flow into Sam's mouth.
Sam fussed lightly, giving a sigh and a cough and squirming slightly as he both Dean and Azazel watched as the blood was swallowed. Giving another cough Sam settled back into bed as Dean pulled his bleeding arm away.
Dean brought his arm to his own mouth and licked away the stain of blood on his skin, sucking slightly on the wound and running his tongue over it until he was assured that no more blood would fall before he curled both arms around his brother and snuggled closer as he closed his eyes.
Azazel waited until both brothers were asleep before reaching into the crib. He made himself visible once more incase either of them awoke and curled his hands around each of their heads. He stroked the hair of their eyes and drew his thumbs over their foreheads.
He tugged the blanket over the both of them securely. He stepped back one step to look at them once more before turning and leaving the nursery.
He then entered the bedroom where Mary was sleeping soundly and peacefully. He gently slid into the blankets, Mary turning to him instinctively and nuzzled closer to his body. He placed his own arms around her and fell asleep, smiling and content.
Azazel knew that both Dean and Sam were his children and therefore he was constantly on the lookout for any telltale signs of either of them baring demonic powers.
He had performed the tests, testing their blood, peering into their souls, countless little tests, and each and every one of them had come negative. There was nothing that ever hinted that Dean or Sam were anything more than human.
He also knew that Mary Winchester mother, wife, lover, and care giver to all around her had also once been Mary Campbell daughter and heir of a great hunting family killer of all things that weren't human and he knew that he had to be careful in everything he did. He pushed every last demonic part of him that he could down to the depths of his tainted grace and mind and despite the simplicity and foolishness of it he lived and breathed as a human would.
(He was never supposed to have gotten so invested in her that her children would have been his offspring as well. He was breaking too many rules.)
As the time passed he had actually learned to enjoy being human, or at least pretending to be human, once more. His humanity is nothing to him, he hadn't been human in many a millennia's and in truth he cannot even remember when he was human or what he had done to go to hell.
In all truths he enjoyed being a lover and later a husband as well. When Mary had told him of her pregnancy, he could feel it happen before she could, could hear the heartbeat of a son strong and powerful, he had been truthfully happy. As Mary slept next to him her stomach growing forward more and more each day, the very picture of perfection with her blonde hair spread around her, the glow of a new being inside of her, he had whispered to the life inside in the ancient tongue that only the highest demons of hell knew. His fingers had trailed over the bump and he would press his palm against her in order to properly feel the second heartbeat.
When Dean had been born Azazel couldn't even feel disappointed in the lack of a demonic aura around him. Dean had screamed as he entered the world, announcing to everyone near him of his displeasure.
Sam had been quite the opposite pregnancy. Mary's stomach didn't grow as it had with Dean, in fact there was barely any evidence of a pregnancy excluding the last two months. Sam's heartbeat had been slower than Deans had been and there had been times when Azazel had to strain to hear it at all, he would never admit that his heart had almost stopped each and every time he had barely heard Sam at all. Mary had struggled and had been terrified the entire nine months, scared witless especially when the doctor said that there was a high chance of a miscarriage.
Dean seemed to have realized that there was something wrong with his little brother and had taken to becoming Mary's shadow, somehow being with her all the time. He would constantly talk to her stomach, telling the not yet named Sam about everything that Dean was going to teach and show him once he was born.
When Sam had come into the world blue and not emitting a single sound Mary had screamed louder than Azazel had ever heard a soul ever scream, even the ones that had been on the rack in hell.
Mary had been sedated and he had to wait in the waiting room of the hospital holding Dean in his lap and whispering comfort to the boy who was also crying at the fate of his poor little brother and mother.
When the doctors had told him that Sam would be fine and Mary was awake once more he could never deny the sweet relief that he had felt and for the first time since he had no idea how long he had wished to cry out of relief.
(Azazel had had many children, all demons and children of hell however it was Dean and Sam Winchester that he loved above all and prided mostly.)
He carried the children in his arms. When he read to them Dean would curl up next to him and Sam would be on his own chest. He would help to bathe them and feed them. Dean looked up to him and would always come to him. When Mary spoke of having another child, maybe a girl she said hopefully, his heart tightened with pleasure at the thought of a daughter and he smiled warmly at her which she readily returned.
The night after he had seen Dean give his blood to be drunk by his brother he watched the two more carefully. If he had not been looking so deeply he might have missed the small, almost unnoticeable signs.
There was also their eyes. While Dean had inherited Mary's green eyes Sammy had taken a mixture of his own and Mary's eyes making a beautiful hazel combination. Deans, however, had taken to occasionally flashing to a slight yellow color. He hadn't seen it happen to Sam's eyes yet however he also knew that it was only a matter of time. Especially if Dean continued to feed his brother his own blood.
He had seen objects mere centimeters away from their hands slide into their palms, the objects were never far away nor where they heavy, it was always a toy or a book and was always close enough to pretend that Dean had simply reached the little distance and had taken it.
The biggest change was how much Dean and Sam were in sync with one another. Almost as if they were connected to one another, they knew what the other wanted without either of them saying a single word. He had watched the pair of them not say a single word however knowing what the other wanted for two hours before Dean realized that he was watching them.
Once Dean had realized he had adopted the innocent look that worked on his mother every now and then when she was in a too good mood and smiled at him.
Azazel answered with an eyebrow raise and a smirk at his son. Dean had blinked in innocence and turned his attention back to his brother, however this time his eldest was carefully saying everything out loud.
While the two of them were still children Azazel didn't see a reason to pursue anything. The small miniscule powers that were growing between them seemed to happen only when they were together. He did, however, decide that within a year when Dean would turn seven, a sacred and powerful number, he would begin to teach him better control and see just what his son could do. For the time being he allowed the boy to have his small iota of independence.
Everything changed however when a group of hunters kidnapped Dean from his third grade class and Sam from his Pre-Kindergarten class.