27th April, 2008

"Dean, I don't feel too good," Sam murmured as they slunk down the slope towards the cottage, torches flashing in the night sky. His brother looked at him over his shoulder, gun in one hand.

"Well, if you insist on eating gherkins, then you won't feel good, will you?" he retorted as they crept towards the front door. "You can take some soda when we finish the job."

"That was only half an hour ago, it can't be that."

Dean paused to turn and look at him.

"Dude, what else is it going to be?" he asked derisively, and turned back to the door, flipping out a knife. "Now stop being such a pussy and get ready."

"I am not being a pussy," Sam hissed back as Dean fiddled with the lock. "I know what indigestion feels like, and this is more than just indigestion!"

"Shut up, we're in," Dean shot back, and the door swung inwards silently, a pale light shining out and beckoning them. With a faint growl of annoyance, Sam followed his brother into the cottage.

It was just like any other small house – living room to the right, kitchen to the right, a closed door ahead and stairs snaking up the wall. Only there wasn't a family living here.

Dean checked the room ahead – a closet – and motioned upstairs. Sam's foot hit the bottom step.

"I'm up here!"

They froze, and Sam's eyes met Dean's.

"I've been waiting. Hurry up, I'm going to fall asleep soon."

Dean nodded, and they began their slow descent up the stairs, bottles of holy water at the ready, lids off. With the torches off, it was dark, and the shadows that filled the stairwell shifted slightly – trees moving in the wind.

"In here."

Sam tensed at the sound of the voice, and glanced at Dean. His brother nodded at the closest door, which was partly closed, and from which a soft light was coming.

They pushed the door open, guns and bottles brandished.

"You certainly took your time."

Dean blinked.

"What the hell?!"

Right in the centre of the room, on an armchair within a Trap, sat a smartly-dressed man with a mug of coffee. He looked perfectly at ease, and had loosened his blue tie. He smiled a wide, white smile, opening his steepled hands welcomingly.

"Sam and Dean Winchester. I've heard so much about you."

"There must be another hunter," Dean whispered to his brother, and the man laughed.

"No, no. It's just you two."

"Well, someone must have painted this Trap," Sam pointed out, and the man leaned forward.

"I did," he grinned, and his eyes rolled up into blackness.

"Wait, hold on. I'm not getting this," Dean said shortly, approaching the edge of the Trap. "You put yourself in a Devil's Trap?"

"I certainly did," the demon replied, sounded extremely pleased with itself, and its eyes reverted back to normal. "It wasn't too easy, either."

"Screw this," Dean muttered, flipping the lid onto the bottle and setting it down on the floor. "Sammy, let's exorcise this scum back to where it belongs."

"Wait," Sam replied, not putting down his water. He fixed the demon with a hard look. "Why did you paint yourself into a Trap?"

"What does it matter?" Dean burst out. "He's a demon, and he's just made our job easier. Who cares why? Let's just banish his evil ass back to Hell."

"Dean, he can't harm us, he's in a Trap. We might as well find out why," Sam reasoned, and the demon chuckled. Dean glared at it.

"What do you think you're laughing at?" he bit out, and the demon smiled ferally.

"You. Sam's the only thing that's stopping you killing everything in your path, right?" he closed his eyes contentedly and leaned back into the chair. "And in answer to your question, Sam… think of it as a show of good faith."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked sharply, and Dean whirled away to the window.

"You would never have listened to me if I could attack you. But now, you're curious. I can't harm you, so you're willing to give me the time of day."

"And why would we want to listen to you?" Dean spat, turning back to the demon.

"What do you –" Sam broke off as he doubled over, gasping in pain. "Shit Dean, I really don't feel good," he groaned, and Dean noticed the glint in the demon's eye as it watched his brother. In a flash, he whipped Sam's bottle from his grasp and splashed it at the demon.

"What the hell have you done to Sammy?" he snarled, and the demon cried out as its skin sizzled on impact, arms raised to protect its face. "What have you done to him?"

"I've done nothing," the demon replied angrily, standing abruptly. "It's what my boss has done to you that I'm here to talk about."

"Explain yourself, or I'll send you right back myself" Dean said coldly, and Sam stood straight, the pain in his abdomen ebbing.

"What's been done to me?" he gasped out, and the demon scowled.

"That's the precursor to morning sickness that you're feeling, Sammy. It'll only get worse."

There was a moment of silence that deafened Sam.

"What did you just say?" Dean whispered, and the demon settled more comfortably into its chair, a bored tone to its voice.

"You heard what I said. Your brother's currently pregnant with the Antichrist."

"Bullshit!"

"That's impossible," Sam declared, wincing slightly. "There is no Antichrist."

"More than that, you're a guy!"

"There is an Antichrist," the demon corrected them, sipping his coffee. "He'll be born in around eight months time, and there is very little that either of you can do about it."

"Do I not even get a choice in this?" Sam burst out, and the demon shrugged.

"If you had, would you accepted it?"

"No!"

"Precisely. We couldn't ask your permission. And before you ask why we chose your brother, Dean… we need someone strong enough to incubate Him," the demon said shortly, crossing its legs. "Sam's the most powerful human left, after Azazel's little stunt. If he just allows his gifts to develop, he'll be on a par with most of us."

"I don't want to be like you," Sam protested, arms gesturing wildly. "I never asked for these visions!"

"But they're so much more than just visions, Sammy," the demon retorted mockingly, and Dean tensed at the use of the nickname. "It's telekinesis, electrokinesis, pyrokinesis, super-strength, persuasion, control over demons, and even –"

"I just said that I don't want them!" Sam shouted, coming dangerously close to the edge of the Trap. The demon's eyes glinted and it leaned forward on its chair.

"Don't you remember when you first used your telekinesis? The rush you got from the sheer power of it? Don't you want to feel that again?"

"How do I know that using them won't turn me evil? Won't turn me into a demon myself?"

"Come on, Sammy, you know it doesn't work like that. Besides, you've already got demon blood in you, how much worse can it get?"

"What?"

Sam sighed and looked away from Dean.

"When I was at Cold Oak… the Demon showed me what happened just before Mom died. He dripped his own blood into me, Dean."

"Well then how come you can walk through Traps? How come salt and iron and holy water don't hurt you, huh?" Dean shot at him, taking a few steps towards him. Sam backed away.

"Look, I don't know, OK? They just don't affect me. I'm still human, I've just got demon blood in me."

"That's the spirit, Sammy," the demon put in, folding his arms leisurely. "You know as well as I do that using your powers won't turn you into a demon. Just as incubating the child won't make you one either."

"There's a pretty major flaw in your plan though, asshole," Dean pointed out bluntly. "Sammy ain't got no uterus. He can't give birth to this kid."

The demon raised one perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

"You really think that he needs a uterus?"

There was a deafening silence.

"You're one sick son of a bitch," Dean hissed out, and the demon laughed.

"Calm down. Sam has a uterus for the duration of the pregnancy, and it'll disappear after like it was never there. Of course, we can't just create things like that easily though… he'll give birth via Caesarean section."

"Like hell he will," Dean shot back immediately. "There is no way that I'm letting you anywhere near him."

"Dean, wait," Sam said quietly, back to his brother, staring out of the window. He paused before turning to look the demon straight in the eye. "Why a human? Why can't it just be born? Why does it need to gestate?"

"Remind me why you aren't affected by salt and iron?" the demon demanded, tilting back on its chair. Sam glanced at Dean.

"Because I'm human. We've just been through this."

"Precisely," the demon agreed, and slammed back onto four legs. "Since He is gestating inside you, He'll be half human. But He won't be like me – I'm just using this body. No, His body will actually be a part of him and so part of him will be human. And that part of him will be dominant, and stop simple deterrents from affecting Him. It's pretty ingenious, really."

"Are we expected to raise the thing?" Dean bit out, and the demon regarded him with an amused glint in its eye.

"He'll be collected at three in the afternoon on His eleventh birthday."

There was another moment of silence, and Dean sighed heavily.

"I guess we can't get out of this."

"If you try to kill Him, Sam will also be killed," the demon affirmed with a nod. "However, Sam will be immune to demonic and physical harm for the gestation period."

"Dean too," Sam said promptly, and the demon smirked.

"No. That's not part of the deal."

"Well then you'd better make it part of the deal," Sam spat, and the lights in the room flickered.

The demon glanced up at the ceiling and then leaned forward, eyes flaring black momentarily. It levelled his gaze at Sam, who was staring at it defiantly.

"Dean gets immunity from demonic harm. But that's it. As soon as He is born, he's back to normal."

"One more thing."

The demon tilted its head, curious, and Sam's eyes hardened.

"Dean's contract. I want it destroyed. Nobody is to come after him once his time's up."

"Now, I really can't do that –"

"You will do that," Sam snarled, and the floor trembled. "Or so help me, I'll kill myself and this thing growing inside me."

"I'm telling you, I can't arrange that!"

"Well then take me to someone who can," Sam hissed, and Dean reached out to touch his shoulder. "And maybe I won't exorcise your sorry ass right now."

The demon stood suddenly, stepping right up to the edge of the Trap, teeth bared. Sam didn't move away.

"It's your lucky day, Sammy," it growled, and with a sudden scream, its head shot back and the trademark black smoke hurtled from its mouth and shot toward the ceiling – only to be met by another enormous plume, crackling blue and purple, which replaced the original demon in a matter of seconds. Its eyes flared.

"Who are you?" Dean asked shortly, coming to stand beside Sam, and the demon's face cracked into a twisted smile.

"Exactly who you asked for."

"Then you know what my terms are."

"I do. And I have to tell you… your devotion to each other," the demon said mockingly. "It's sweet, it really is."

"I don't care what you think," Sam barked. "I want his contract gone."

The demon tilted its head and looked at them both. Something sparked in its eyes.