To Mary they were the two most beautiful children on the planet she was their mother and for four years and six months she basked in their sweetness and innocence, the sleepless nights forgotten when her babies smiled up at her.
In a way, she was the lucky one.
To John, they were potential soldiers, to be trained as harshly as any marine recruits, groomed not only to defend themselves from the kind of evil that had killed his wife and their mother, but to actively seek out and destroy the beings that preyed on humans.
At least that's what John preached when he urged his young children to run faster, shoot straighter, learn quicker; but in his heart, the only thing he was truly focused on was revenge for the death of his beautiful wife, even at the expense of his boys, though in his own twisted way he loved them dearly.
To the teens and young girls at school they were outsiders, kids who stayed for a few days or weeks, orbiting on the fringe, never really fitting in.
Sam, floppy-haired, intelligent, studious and his big brother, Dean, just as intelligent but with zero intention of applying it to furthering his education. He did the minimum necessary to get his GED, his interest concentrated more on the cute young girls who eyed him invitingly, drawn in even more by his air of mystery and bad boy attitude.
To the monsters they killed, at least the earlier ones, they were two hunters amongst the many, young but with the training and tenacity to come out on top. Little did they know they'd been taken out by the two brothers who would become the infamous Winchesters.
To Azazel, Sam was his favourite, chosen to become his boy king, leader of his infernal army, but he'd bet on the wrong horse. He hadn't considered the older brother, hadn't taken into account the bond that had been forged between the two as they had grown, a bond that defied the concept of death itself, and so Azazel paid for his inattention with his own death, delivered by courtesy of Sam's elder sibling.
To the remaining demons the name Winchester had become an anathema, a name to instil fear into their hearts. Whichever of them faced the two brothers close up, ended up dead; yet each craved the glory that would come from being the one to kill them.
To the angels, Dean was a righteous man, a ward of heaven, vessel to the most powerful of them all, Michael, the arch-angel. While Sam was an abomination, a child tainted with demon-blood and vessel to the devil Lucifer.
The angels ingenuously believed that once Dean Winchester knew the disgusting, depraved nature of his younger brother, he'd disown him, run from him and leave him to his destiny to dedicate himself to the heavenly fight and kill his brother.
The angels were emotionless creatures, without a soul, and Dean Winchester had already sold his once to save his little brother, there was no way he was going to kill him.
But Sam committed suicide, choosing to save Dean and the world, leaving him alone and desperate, honouring his baby brother's last wishes, and trying to go on living without him.
To Lisa, Dean was a lost, desperate, unhappy man who managed to cover his sorrow for his brother's demise with smiles that never quite reached his eyes, with sex that brought her to orgasmic highs and delivered a momentarily oblivion to Dean himself, and with dedication to her young son, whom she knew Dean had come to love, a love that was returned by Ben.
When Sam returned tall and healthy, she knew it was over.
Whatever it was that linked the two, she could never compete, she was a light bulb compared to the burning sun that was Sam.
The last time she saw Dean, she couldn't even remember who he was.
To the parallel world of monsters the Winchesters had become legend.
They always won, death had no hold over them, they had both been to hell, heaven and purgatory and both had returned alive to tell the tale; monsters feared them and when they had the misfortune to see their determined faces coming towards them, brandishing a weapon, they knew their hour had come.
The two innocent boys their mother had loved, were no longer innocent.
They were two of the most handsome men you could meet, charming, empathic, with warm dimpled smiles, but truth is they were killers, violent killers.
Sure they acted as they did to save people, and most of the time it was true, but on their journey they had killed and tortured innocents too. Many possessed humans who had been still alive and whom with an exorcism could have been saved, had been promptly dispatched without a second thought.
Sam had drunk blood like any vampire, and in Hell, Dean had tortured souls and taken great pleasure in doing so. At times they had been fierce with each other too, punching and fighting like two young tigers.
The Winchesters were violent men; Henriksen had said they were serial killers, maybe he hadn't been far wrong. Violence breeds violence after all.
Yet in the souls of these two men lay a love so powerful and strong that it had defied angels, demons, devils, death and god himself. That love was exclusive only to each other however, forged by the life they'd been forced to lead.
There was no-one they'd ever choose above their brother, as those close to them could have confirmed, if most of them had not been dead, thanks to their passing acquaintance with the Winchesters.
They stood together in the eye of a tornado, their love and soul-bond holding them together while all around the wind wailed and surged and shrieked, destroying all those who got close to the brothers, for their destiny was each other and no-one else was allowed into the eye of the storm.