Of First Greetings


Alec hated waiting. He hated knowing that he could be doing something else, something that might be saving lives, and instead he had to sit on a bench in Central Park and wait for a demon that may or may not show up.

He sighed irritably and tapped his finger against the metal armrest, shifting his weight impatiently. He looked to his left to see Jace sitting a fair distance away from him, on a similar park bench, sprawled out and taking up the whole thing. Typical.

Clary was supposed to be there as well, but had cancelled last minute when she and Isabelle were called off to a mission. He couldn't remember the details exactly, but it was something involving two mundanes, and an angel who appeared to have a soft spot for them. He'd been doubtful about the whole thing at first; angels almost never came down to Earth, but the Clave seemed adamant in checking it out, so he'd sent two of his best Nephilim.

In fact, the only reason he hadn't sent Jace, too, was for ruining his and Magnus's date night by showing up at their apartment, claiming that the Institute needed Alec very desperately, and demanding he come with him at once. The 'emergency' turned out to be that the toilet was clogged, and Jace didn't care for maintenance duties.

After an hour of waiting, the demon finally showed it's face. They lured it into a more private place, so they wouldn't inadvertently mentally scar any mundanes who happened to be passing by, and sent it back to Hell with three swipes of Jace's blade and one well-aimed arrow from Alec's bow. Carefully making sure their weapons of destruction were stowed and Glamoured, they made their way back to the Institute.

Alec was putting his bow back in the weapons room when his phone rang. Looking down to see that his sister was the one doing the calling, he answered.

"Izzy. How'd it go?" Jace looked up from stashing his own weapons at the sound of her name, just as intent as Alec to hear how the mission went.

"Well, it's definitely an angel."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What is an angel doing in New York, at three in the afternoon, on a Sunday?"

"Uh, he says he's…" Izzy hesitated, sounding unsure of what she'd been told. "He says he's been down here, on Earth, for awhile."

He was silent for a moment, thinking. "How long is 'awhile'?"

"That, he didn't say."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Alright, and the mundanes?"

"They're with him, apparently. They call themselves 'Hunters', except they're not Nephilim. They're just… humans, who've gotten ahold of a few of our blades, somehow."

"What? Like, our blades? New York's blades? Izzy, the Clave will de-rune me if they find out that—"

"Relax, Alec! They're not New York's. I… I don't know where they come from. They don't look like Seraph blades, but they must be…"

"Izzy, bring them here. It'll be a lot easier to sort this out if we can talk face-to-face, and I can see them myself."

"Okay, me and Clary will—" Izzy's voice was cut off by a sudden gasp, and the phone call ended shortly after.

"Izzy? Izzy! What happened? Isabelle!" Alec's panicked gaze shot to Jace's confused one. "Jace, something's happened."

The blond boy's gaze slipped over his shoulder, and focused on something behind him. His expression became even more bewildered, and Alec spun around. To his surprise, he saw that his sister, Clary, and three strangers were standing a few feet away from him.

The first, a tall man with shaggy brown hair and a plaid button-up, held a bottle of water and a curved knife with strange markings. The second, a handsome man with shorter hair, was struggling to extricate his hands from Izzy's whip, which had curled itself securely around his wrists. The third was wearing a long beige trench coat and blinked his blue eyes at Alec, his expression unreadable.

Alec stumbled backwards, snatching up an arrow and quickly drawing his bow, aiming it at the three foreigners. Izzy and Clary, looking thoroughly spooked, scrambled away from them as well, while the strangers looked completely unbothered by their own sudden appearance.

"W-what just hap-happened?" stuttered Clary, rushing over to stand by Jace's side.

The man in the long coat furrowed his eyebrows. "You said to bring them here, did you not?" None of them made any move to confirm his question, and instead readied their own weapons against the mundanes, who appeared to be preparing themselves for a fight. "Sam, Dean, put those down."

The mundanes hesitated, then lowered their weapons. "What the hell, Cass?" muttered the short-haired mundane. "You're supposed to blip us away from the psychos with the knives and whips, not to their lair!"

Cass, who he supposed was the angel of the three, tilted his head in annoyance toward the man who had spoken. "Dean, they are not psychotics. They are Nephilim."

"Nephilim?" repeated the tall one, Sam. He gave Alec a suspicious glance.

Dean turned his head toward Alec, narrowing his eyes. "We put our weapons down, Robin Hood, now it's time to do the same."

"And I should listen to you because…?" challenged Alec, his eyes fixed on Dean's, and his arrow pointed directly as his forehead.

"Because I just sent nineteen demons back to Hell, and I'd really like to make it an even twenty—"

"Dean, these are not demons. They are Nephilim."

"Yeah, you keep saying that, Cass, but I don't know what the hell that means," said Dean.

"Nephilim means half-human, half-angel," clarified Jace, raising a Seraph blade menacingly.

Dean considered this for a moment, before smirking and saying, "Best of both worlds, huh? Good for you, Hannah Montana, but that doesn't mean you won't kill us."

"They won't kill you," insisted Cass.

"Death is much too pleasant, anyway. How'd you like a rune, mundane?" hissed Alec, eyeing the stele on the table behind Sam, and debating whether or not he should make a run to grab it.

The two mundanes exchanged a look, then laughed. "I'm not sure where you got the idea that death was pleasant, but I can assure you, it is not."

Alec stepped closer. "Just tell me what you're doing in my institute."

Dean put his hands in the air, and jerked his head toward the angel. "Ask him. He's the one that put us here." He shifted his eyes to Cass, who was as calm as when he'd first arrived.

"I brought us here because they can help." The angel stepped forward. He waved his hand slightly and the Nephilim's weapons were gone from their hands, and back on their racks. Alec took a step back, before bowing his head slightly in respect. "I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord, and I am in need of supplies. Do you carry new angelic weapons here?"

He swallowed. This must be how Sam and Dean had acquired Seraph blades. Castiel had obtained them from various institutes, then distributed them. The angel frowned. "Seraph weapons exist in more forms than blades. I did not steal them from your institutes."

He was momentarily taken aback, as it had been so long since he'd interacted with an angel that he'd forgotten they can sometimes read minds. Alec bowed his head again. "Yes, sorry, your Grace. We carry Seraph blades and steles."

"I have no use for steles, nor do my companions, but thank you."

"Izzy, Clary, give him the fresh batch we received this morning," said Alec. The two girls nodded and led Castiel away, toward the entrance.

Dean and Sam exchanged another amused glance. "Did you just say 'Your Grace'?" said Sam, raising his eyebrows, and Alec's eyes darted back to the boy.

"Of course I did," he said, frowning. These mundanes had no respect for their superiors.

Dean chuckled. "Oh, I see. You're their bitches."

"Excuse me?" said Jace, his hands balling into fists.

"Bitches. You know… yes-men, kiss-asses… bitches! You do whatever they say, in exchange for little pats on the head and praise." Dean laughed again, and the two Nephilim narrowed their eyes.

"We do what they say because they're angels, and we do it in exchange for weapons."

"Whatever you say," said Dean, and he could tell Jace was going to add something more, but cut him off before he could speak. "What is this place, anyway? Where are we?"

Alec gave Jace a glance, and jerked his head toward the stele behind Sam, which he set off retrieving. "New York," relied Alec, turning back to the the two so-called 'Hunters'. "You're in the New York Institute."

"And what's that?" said Sam curiously.

"It's… a bit like a school, a bit like… everything, really. A home-away-from-home, equipped with a gym, weapons, and take-out menus."

Dean perked up at that. "You guys got any pie here?"

"No… but there's a Biggerson's just a few blocks away that makes great pie and burgers," said Alec, and Dean turned excitedly to his companion, who shook his head irritatedly.

"You said weapons… what exactly do you do?" Sam turned his attention away from Dean and looked intently to Alec for his response.

"We keep you ingrates safe from demons," added Jace, and the two mundanes' brows shot back into the air. "And Seraph blades are the only thing that kills the bastards."

"You've got a strange definition of 'safe'," muttered Sam.

"No, it's not strange. It's straight-up wrong." Dean approached Alec, as Jace rejoined him and handed him a stele. He stuck out his hand, and smiled widely.

"Dean." He gestured to the man behind him. "And that's Sam. You are…?"

"Alec."

"Jace."

"Well, weird to meet 'cha Alex and Jace."

"Leck." He scowled. His name wasn't that hard, yet people always seemed to get it wrong.

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Ah-leck. Not Alex. Never Alex."

"Got it. Never Alex," he said, as Castiel, Clary, and Izzy reentered the room with a neatly wrapped parcel. "Oh! Cass, can you blip us to the Biggerson's right down the block? Sam says no, but I hear they make great pie and—"

"No, Dean." Clary and Izzy handed the angel two smaller boxes, and Castiel then promptly handed all of them to Sam and Dean, who took them begrudgingly. "We can get pie after this whole thing is over."

Dean sulked, and Castiel turned to the four Nephilim in front of him. "We must take our leave now."

"Wait, Cass," said Sam. "What do we say when we meet nice people who give us killing things?"

"I'm not sure, we have never had an experience quite like this before, so we have not yet made a tradition of saying something when the encounter is over." Sam looked displeased, and Dean sighed and whispered something into his ear. "Oh, of course. Thank you for your generosity."

"Was that so hard?" mumbled Sam.

"We bid you good-bye and do a better job at your job Jace, Never Alex, and two hot chicks!" exclaimed Dean happily and with a soft flap of wings, they were gone. Jace, Never Alex, and the two hot chicks sat in processing silence for a minute or so after they were gone.

"Well, that was weird," blurted out Jace, and they all readily agreed.