Azazel laid curled up, a weak smile on his lips as his hand softly brushed his slightly rounded stomach. That John… even now he didn’t quit the plan to kill the demon.

The pain was excruciating. Azazel had no idea how John’s soul ended up stuck inside him instead of going to Hell, or how did he begin growing. But it happened, and now the demon was carrying his worst enemy in the same way mothers carried their infants.

The new being was absorbing all the energy from Azazel to sustain the new life - his power and his strengt. His essense was painful and his vessel was in constant agony - it’s vitals were reforming to adjust to the… fetus?

And though Azazel refused to get rid of John despite all the cirumstances. Some kind of maternal instinct, or his obsession with children it was, didn’t let him to. He will protect that little creature with his life or death. He will raise his little soldier strong. No, not for Lucifer. For himself. Only for himself, nobody will touch his John.

Suddenly, his gaze shot up, eyes wide as two people crashed into the place. The… Winchesters?