written for a prompt on comment-fic: Supernatural, outsider pov, Sam and Lucifer's children are incredibly, incredibly creepy.


"Sam," Dean says. His voice sounds strangled. "It's staring at me again, Sam."

Across from him, twenty-eight inches of blond, chubby-cheeked baby claps and crows triumphantly.

Look. Dean is trying this... uncle thing. He bought the teddy bears (now dismembered), changed diapers (never again), even makes airplane noises when he's trying to feed it, desperately clutching his masculinity to his chest (or so Sam had said).

Whatever. It's kind of hard when your niece is the daughter of the Prince of Hell.

"She," Sam says, "not it, Dean. We've had this conversation before. And babies look at things. It's part of their cognitive development, you know, focusing on people they love."

"Just because Cas bought you the baby books doesn't mean you had to read them," Dean grumbles.

Sam, from where he is making pureed sweet potatoes, sighs. "I thought you were going to be accepting of my new family," his brother says. Fatherhood has made Sam freakishly patient and, unfortunately for Dean's tendencies, a lot less tolerant of curse words.

"I was. I am. Except for how babies are evil," Dean finishes, ducking a banana projectile. It hits Sam with a wet splat.

The baby coos innocently.

Yeah. Dean would totally believe that, if only he hadn't seen the thing's eyes change color the last time they tried to give it mushy peas.