You were good. You were exactly what Azazel was looking for, to have a baby, so he could turn it into one of his psychic kids. He just needed your permission to enter in ten years, take what he needed.

"I can give you anything you want," He told you, flashing his yellow eyes at you. "Just in ten years I'll come to collect. Nothing big, though, don't worry your pretty little head. Now, tell me what you want. Like I'm a department store Santa."