It was another cold day in Hell.
Indeed, when the pits of Damnation weren't burning with the intensity of a thousand suns, it could be quite pleasant to stroll by the eternal flames and take a peek at the damned.
Soon all those sentenced to eternal suffering found their way down here on way or another.
Or another.
He himself had assisted many on their way, willingly or not. They were all headed down south in the end, so why bother waiting another nine to ninety years? Fate could not be changed. Lives were predestined the moment they were made, so why bother frantically squeezing the last few pitiful shards of life out of the moment?
After all, all things turned to dust. Eventually.
The demon was old. Some said he was one of the first. His spawn ran the length and breadth of the dark places, and they were as gods. That was until the First arrived, the one that started the slow retreat back to Hell.
His name had not been spoken aloud for many a century, and the mythology was all but forgotten, but the demon remembered.
He remembered the one man that rallied against them, and although his efforts were futile they had many repercussions. For that was when the humans realised they could fight back.
Slowly more and more of these self-styled hunters emerged, and no matter how many the demon and his brethren wasted, two, three and even four surfaced to fill the void. Men and women. Young and old. Families, bred to fight and die.
Reluctantly, many creatures slunk back to Hell and the other dark places. But the demon stayed and watched, and charted the individual tactics and styles of these hunters.
Staring out across the sulphur pits he smiled. It was time to gather his brood. With a sigh of relief he shed his borrowed skin and it crumpled and withered as he grew in size and shape. Finally he tossed his head back and let out a primal scream.
It was crude but effective as he began to notice the awareness of his children, one by one. The demon drew himself up. Many of the elder believed that the old ways were failing, and may take this gathering as an opportunity to present him with a challenge. That would not do.
The first of his spawn approached his patriarch cautiously; only too aware of what his sire was capable of. The demon inclined his head. He was proud of this son, this second son. His brother had perished at his own hands for being weak. This son did not abide weakness.
"The Family comes?"
"They follow on swift wings, Father. The youngest found a hunter's lair and is plundering it as we speak. She begged me to present you with this trophy of her conquest."
The demon reached out for the blade his son offered. The grip was small, made for human hands, but the curve of the knife was wicked and gleaming. It was all too easy to imagine some stout, enraged hunter using this same blade to cleave the heads off the shoulders of his brethren. A name was neatly scratched into the steel across one side. The demon felt a welling up of pride for his youngest as he touched the lettering.
Winchester.
"Do you enjoy my gift, Father?" She had arrived, resplendent in her chosen form, her massive leathery wings trailing on the ground behind her.
"I have never been so proud of one of my children until now."
His son growled low back in his throat. His daughter laughed, a delighted, sinister sound. "Come, brother." She purred. "Why can't we both be in the spotlight for once? We all must learn to share."
For a moment it seemed as if the boy might tear into the girl, but instead he turned and began berating his younger brothers and sisters for their lack of punctuality.
The demon twirled the blade around his long, skeletal fingers. "Did you kill them all?"
The girl peered at him intently. "Of course, Father."
"For a hunter or the spawn of hunters must never be suffered to live. For they in turn will never stop. They will hunt you until either you or they are dead."
"They died screaming, I swear. Ma, Pa, Pa's sister and two bouncing babies. I slit their throats and they choked on their own blood." A small note of panic crept into her voice.
"Know that I only speak out of concern for you." The demon said. "If one should have escaped, we shall require time to recapture it and tear out its heart." His words seethed with venom.
She hung her head in shame. "One." She finally said. "No more than a babe. He was crossing the yard when I arrived and fled for the forest upon seeing me. I could not pursue him without giving the father and the aunt time to arm themselves."
"They breed these ones clever." He mused, for the forests were home to many other creatures, more primitive and therefore more unpredictable. He enjoyed it if his prey devised a cunning plan to escape only to watch it crumble before his eyes rather than be charged at by a creature that very possibly didn't care if it met its demise. One found it hard to think when one found his head being repeatedly pounded into the floor.
The hissing, scratching and growling around him that bespoke his children grew in volume. They had gathered in a ragged circle around him, some reverent, some aggressive and some simply stoic. It had been many years since the clan had gathered together like this and it was all but certain that this meeting would have many ramifications, for those that walked the earth and those that lived beneath.
"Children." The demon drawled. "So long it has been since we were gathered together as one. I am amazed and impressed at what you have all become in my absence, wherein most urgent matters called me to the surface."
The daughter gripped her brother's forearm, digging her long fingers deep into the flesh. "What matters called you away, Father?" She questioned intently. Father never informed the clan about the missions he undertook. He gave them their assignments and they obeyed without question. It was simply the way things were and she accepted that.
She did not always have to like it, though.
The demon's eyes glinted as he assessed his brood. They would do their tasks amicably. "Today, my children, is the day we swap our true forms for that of those beneath us. Today we become the first family to commit ourselves to the complete and utter destruction of those that would destroy us, man or beast! They shall know fear! They shall know suffering! They shall beg for death before the end!"
The bloodlust was taking over. The deafening roar grew in crescendo, as if the armies of darkness had already triumphed.
"Moreover." The demon murmured. "We shall poison their minds from within their own ranks. Discord and disharmony will succeed where we have not."
"One isolated from his peers will not live to see the sunrise!" His daughter crowed, causing her fellows to become even more raucous.
Year by year, month by month, the demon began to build his army.
He visited them in their sleeping hours, nurturing, suggesting. Subtly he trained them, and when he was done he planted a trigger deep in their subconscious mind, a trigger that would, once fired, mesh that mind to his. Making the human a walking, talking embodiment of demonic evil.
They would be tied to him until they died. If he allowed them to die.
Many of the families he targeted were the descendants of old acquaintances of his. By this time, the yellow-eyed demon had built quite a rapport, and his children were following boldly in his footsteps. Wherever he went he left a string of fractured families in his wake.
Then one day when he was casually passing through Kansas, he was seized by a sudden whim. He had already personally turned eight babies that were destined to become his finest soldiers that week, but something made him turn tail and head back to an out-of-the-way place by the name of Lawrence.
"John! Dean! We're home!"
The demon watched through the eyes of the postman as the tall blonde woman climbed out of the sleek black vehicle. Opening the back door, she withdrew a bundle wrapped in a blue blanket.
"They're home!" A short, slightly chubby boy practically flew out the front door and latched himself onto his mother's leg. She laughed and attempted to smooth his messy brown hair.
"Sweetie, we were only down at the store."
"For too long. Eh, Sammy?" The boy reached up to the blanket and a small hand grasped his finger. "Miss me, you dork?"
The baby only laughed.
"John Winchester, get out here and help us bring in the shopping!"
Winchester.
Winchester.
Win…
That night the demon paid little Sammy Winchester a visit. The baby looked up at him, so trusting. Blind trust. Both of them ignored the whimpers of the woman on the ceiling.
The demon's eyes glinted. "Welcome to my army, Sammy." He whispered. "You will be the prize of my collection."
He was gone by the time John Winchester burst into the room.