"Not again" complained Sam, his hands over his ears, whilst sat up in his bed.

The little boy had been woken once more by the ear-splitting cries of his new-born sister. His brother, Dean, was half asleep at the other side of the room that they now shared. Dean wasn't impressed of sharing his room with his snot nosed little brother, but knew he had no choice in the matter. The twelve-year-old turned around on his side, and faced his brother.

"Babies do that, Sammy," he grumbled, still in a slumber like daze. "You were just as bad. Mom and Dad said they would've left you at the fire station if they had the chance."

Sam threw his pillow at his brother.

"Nuh uh" glowered the smaller boy.

Dean snorted, as he threw the pillow back at Sam. He then rolled over back onto his other side.

"Just go to sleep, Sammy," he said, mid yawn. "We've got school in the morning."

Sam sighed heavily, as he curled back under his Ninja Turtles bed sheets.

In the meantime, Mary was consoling her crying baby. John was awoken also by his tiny daughter's cries. Since she was only five days old, Christina was sleeping in a Moses basket, that was placed at the foot of their double bed.

"What's wrong, baby?" cooed Mary, as she cradled the infant.

Mary listened carefully to her little girl's wails. She was hungry, and would keep up the noise for as long as possible, until she got what she wanted. For someone so small, Christina appeared to be a tenacious personality in the making.

John took procession of the baby, as Mary unbuttoned her night shirt.

"It's all right, sweetheart," comforted John, as he gazed down at the infant in his arms. "Mommy knows you're hungry, just hang on."

Mary was now bare chested, and gathered her daughter into her embrace again. The baby instantly began to nurse, as her mother leaned against her propped up pillow. Mary beamed at her new-born baby girl, as she tickled her tiny hand.

"There you go, that's a good girl," she fussed. "Mommy's pretty little girl."

Tears began to fall from her cheeks. John saw this.

"Oh, honey," he comforted, wiping her right cheek. "Don't get upset. It's your hormones. Hell, you just had a baby five days ago. You were like this with both boys. Just relax. Look, I'll go and make you one of those hippy herbal teas you've started drinking."

Mary smiled tearfully at her husband, who gave her a gentle kiss on the lips, before leaving the room.

"Your Daddy is a good man," Mary told the nursing new-born. "He might do things that might make you mad, or sad. He'll even get you all embarrassed just to make you laugh. Your Daddy will never let you down. He'll protect you. Believe me, nothing bad will ever happen to you, sweetheart. I promise you."

One cup of peppermint tea, and a satisfied sleeping baby later, Mary and John found themselves asleep once more.

They were unaware of the two figures at the end of the bed, gazing into the bassinette.

"Is this her? Is this the house?" asked one of the mysterious figures.

The other stranger, gazed around the room, before his gaze returned to the sleeping baby. He waved a hand over her, before nodding.

"Yes," he answered. "Though, I will say, brother, it would be wise to wait for the time being. A dark force is watching this house."

The slightly smaller stranger turned to his comrade, who wore a trench coat.

"What force? The Sith Order?" he retorted, sarcastically.

The one in the trench coat seemed unamused by what his accomplice said. His expression turned dark.

"Azazel" he uttered.

The other man turned his attention back towards the small baby in the Moses basket, his eyes became glossed over with concern.

"He's watching over this house," added the man in the trench coat. "However, this child is not his intended target. He's be here before. We must wait, brother. It's not wise. I've placed runes that the humans can't see, around the house, for whenever Azazel strikes."

The first stranger snorted.

"Runes can't kill Princes of Hell" he reminded.

Trench coat could sense an energy in the house, but was unsure of the location, although he was certain it was coming from another room.

"I'm aware of that fact," he replied, in a curt manner. "Only a specially forged weapon of great power can dispose of such a vile creature."

The pair paused for a moment, as twelve-year-old Dean shuffled by the ajar door, making his way to the bathroom in a zombie like daze. He couldn't see or hear the mysterious men that stood in his parents' bedroom.

"Oh, geez, I remember when Michael used to put some effort into selecting vessels. This one is gonna be a tough one to deal with when he becomes a man. He looks the challenging type," the first stranger observed. "Last time he picked someone like that, the vessel tried to throw himself to the crocodiles, after all the first born snuffed it."

Trench coat sighed heavily, and rolled his eyes.

"I recall you plagued everyone with painful sores and boils" he said, in a matter of fact attitude.

The smaller man became defensive, and pointed an accusing finger.

"Hey, that was hilarious," he stated. "I'm the more creative half of the dream team. Zadakiel just made it rain frogs. That's just boring."

Trench coat tutted in frustration.

"You asked me to help," he reminded. "Can we just keep the task in mind, without getting side tracked."

The small man scoffed, and folded his arms.

"Alright, fine," he returned. "With old Yellow Eyes hanging around the joint, the plan is gonna have to wait for now. Anyway, the kid is too young to give us an answer anyway. Just watch over her, and come and find we with any updates."

Trench coat found himself alone in the room, surrounded by sleeping humans. His attention was draw to the young boy wandering by the door again, returning to his own room. Trench coat remained invisible, as he had checked all the runes around the house. He returned to the master bedroom, to observe the new-born baby once more.

"I'll be back" he declared, in a low voice.

Then, he vanished.

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