Disclaimer: Yes, I, Eric Kripke, have nothing better to do with my time besides write fanfiction of my own show and post it on the internet. Pfft, I wish. Not mine, never will be.
John opened the door to the scent of roast beef wafting from the kitchen.
“Mary?” he called, setting the bundle in his arms down on his arm chair.
“In the kitchen,” came her reply.
She was at the sink, washing dishes and John walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and fanning large hands over her belly. At five months Mary was glowing and, ever since she’d started to show John hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of her. She turned, grinning, and raised her face for a kiss which he gladly bestowed.
“John,” a voice hissed, effectively breaking the mood for the Hunter. John turned in time to see Azazel enter the kitchen. Mary smiled and held out a hand, the demon happily making his way to her side and pressing into the hand she ran through his hair, all the while keeping those burning yellow eyes trained on John. John fought down a shiver. He didn’t know how Mary could stand to keep the freaky creature around, especially since they were going to have a baby soon, but he kept quiet and followed his wife into the living room. Azazel walked ahead of them, ready to take up his normal spot on the couch, but stopped dead a few feet into the room, growling softly.
“John,” Mary said hesitantly. “What is that?”
Grinning, the Hunter slipped past his wife and the demon and picked up the large oval object that was the cause of all the fuss.
“I got it today,” he said. “For Dean or Deanna, for whenever they’re old enough to start Hunting.”
He ran a hand over the smooth white shell, still slightly amazed at the level of heat coming from the egg.
“I heard that it’s better if they grow up together, forms a tighter bond that way.”
Mary didn’t look like she shared his enthusiasm.
“John, we talked about this.”
He glanced down, looking sheepish.
“Angels are a lot of work,” she reiterated her previous arguments. “We’ll have to get its voice clipped, it’ll shed feathers everywhere and we already have a demon. Angels and demons get along worse than cats and dogs, John, you know that.”
“I know,” John soothed, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek. “But honey, baby, love of my life.”
She frowned at the string of endearments, knowing he was just turning on the Winchester charm, and resolved to hold firm.
“Just, hold the egg.”
She blinked at him as he held out the watermelon sized egg.
“I don’t wanna hold the egg, John.”
“Come on,” he coaxed, wiggling the thing slightly. “You know you wanna.”
“No, I don’t,” Mary said firmly, but was fighting a smile.
“Sure you do,” John replied, pressing the egg into her arms and holding it between them.
“There,” he said as the warmth from the egg seeped into them. “It’s not so bad, is it?”
“I still say that demons are better Hunting companions than angels. My dad used nothing but demons his whole career and so did his dad and his grandfather and…”
“And, it is okay to break tradition once in awhile,” John butted in. “Besides, it’s not like angels are useless at protecting. If they were I doubt they’d have as many details of them guarding the President as they do, or all of those big wig senators. I hear that the Rockefellers have two for their personal security and I’m sure that there are more than a few Hunters who have an angel for a companion instead of a demon.”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on, Mary,” he coaxed, putting on his most winning grin. “I went all the way to Heaven to get it.”
At her arched brow he amended.
“Well, Heaven’s Hatchery, but it’s basically the same thing.”
Mary rolled her eyes at her husband but couldn’t help but stroke gentle fingers over the pure white shell. Looking down at her stomach she spoke.
“What do you think baby?”
A gentle fluttering sensation was her reply and she grinned.
“Looks like he likes the idea,” she said. “I guess we’re keeping the angel.”
Azazel was not happy about the new addition and spent nearly every waking moment glowering at the large egg as it sat in its box by the fireplace, flicking his arrow-tipped tail back and forth like an agitated cat. After the first week John had taken to shooing the disgruntled demon out of the living room whenever he was home, trying to make sure the creature didn’t do anything to Dean’s angel before it hatched. Mary had a slightly different approach. She knew that Azazel was feeling an encroachment on his territory so she took to holding the egg when John was out on Hunts, slowly coaxing Azazel to share space with the soon-to-be addition. He resisted at first, staying as far away from the egg as physically possible and still be in the same room but eventually she was able to get him to curl up beside her on the couch while she held the egg and ran a hand through the demon’s hair.
Her father had often talked to his demon like he was an old friend and Mary often chatted to him about her day, just to fill the silence of the house while John was at work, but now she talked to him about how it would be his job to help raise the angel. How he would have to make sure the chick knew how to protect Dean when they were both grown up because, if John had his way, their son would be a Hunter just like his dad and grandpa and he’d need a smart, strong companion like Azazel had been for Samuel.
There were varying arguments about the level of intelligence possessed by demons and angels so Mary was never sure if it was her words or the continued exposure but she was certain her message had gotten through the night she padded downstairs for a midnight snack of jello and ranch dressing and found Azazel asleep, curled up by the fireplace, the angel egg wrapped securely in his arms.