Hey again. Sorry it's been such a long time.

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

DISCLAIMER: The Mortal Instruments and its characters do not belong to me.

Dexter's eyes shifted from Jace to the warlock, then back to Jace again. He frowned. He leant forward, elbows on knees. He chewed his thumb nail. He stopped. He leant back on the hard chair again, pursing his lips together. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked almost offended.

"Well," He began indignantly, "I can't believe this."

"Well, it's pretty simple really," Alec started from where he stood beside Jace in the wide hospital waiting room. "Your dog is a warlock. I can't honestly say this type of thing hasn't happened before." Dexter ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable.

"That's not what I'm talking about," He shot an accusing look at Audrey. "I changed in front of you." Audrey scoffed.

"Well, it's not like I ever looked or anything."

"Funny enough, that doesn't actually make me, feel better." He stood up. "And that's not the only thing, either. I was good to you. I could have gotten you the cheap dog food, couldn't I? But no, I forked out and got you the nice stuff, the organic type with actual food bits in it. I let you sleep on the end of my bed. You could've at least told me you were a freaking warlock." Now it was Audrey's turn to get offended.

"Well, it wasn't always sunshine and rainbows with you, you realise. I had to sit through all your pubescent bullshit and let's not forget about your emo phase."

"I never had an emo phase."

"Oh yes you did. And not to mention all those times you stepped on me."

"Those where accidents and I apologised profusely, every time." Jace stood up now, deciding that this would not lead anywhere good.

"Okay, okay, enough, both of you." Audrey huffed but sat down. Dexter remained on his feet. "Let's all keep in mind that you have a lot more to worry about, like, I don't know, the fact that there's a demon out there thirsty for your blood." Dexter seemed to consider this.

"It's a good point," Annabelle said, voice hard, from a few feet over from the squabbling group where she had been sitting silently for the duration of the conversation. "I think it's really the main priority here. Everything else can wait." He looked at her for a few moments, then sat down, defeated.

"You're right. But where do we start? I mean, what exactly am I supposed to do in this situation?"

"Well it shouldn't be too hard," Jace stated, "I mean, if the demon really wants you he'll come and get you, right? But we want to be a step ahead of this thing."

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Dexter seemed indignant.

"You guys have to think, remember." Jace looked at Dexter, "This guy has been trying to drive a wedge between you and all the people you care about for years. The only reason he's coming after you so directly now, with the fire and everything, is because I showed up. But he's been around for a long time. Think. Is there anyone who's acted strangely towards you, taken an unnatural interest in your life? Anybody at all." Dexter was already shaking his head.

"No, no, none that I can think of." Alec cut in.

"Have there been any strange, spontaneous events that you can think of? Something that went unexplained?" The dark haired boy frowned.

"There was this one thing, at the book store a couple of weeks ago, just after we met. Somebody was there, and he asked me something."

"What did he say?"

"'What's keeping you here'. I don't know, it was really weird. He just disappeared after that."

"What did he look like?" He shook his head again.

"I wasn't wearing my glasses. All I could tell that he was tall. And blonde." He looked up at Jace. "Lighter than yours though. Almost white." Alec and Jace glanced at each other, but said nothing.

"That's not a lot to go on." Jace said. "Is there anything else?"

"Your mother," Audrey said, abruptly. Dexter stared at her, bewildered.

"What about her?" Audrey sighed, and stood up. She walked to the window of the clean, pale blue room, and looked out onto the city. She turned back to them and bit her lip.

"Almost sixteen years ago, your mom, she discovered something about you. I wasn't sure what it was at the time, but now I guess that she found out what you really where. I think she discovered what we're just finding out; that you're blood is worth its weight in gold, to the demon community. She found out you were in danger. It's why she took you to the farm."

"Farm?" Jace furrowed his brow, "I thought you grew up in Chicago."

"No," Dexter mumbled, "I mean, I lived there for a couple of years, I guess, but we moved out to a farm further out of the city. We farmed canola. You know, for oil."

"Your mom moved out there because she was scared. For you. She dedicated her entire life to keeping you safe."

"Right." Jace began, "Well then there must be some clues as to who exactly this guy is somewhere around your house, right? And we'll have to talk to your mom, find out what she knows." Dexter smiled, then, a little bitter.

"Well you can try, I guess. Don't know what good it'll do you."

"Why?" He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, absentmindedly pressing his thumb and forefinger to his collar bone. A nervous habit.

"Because she's sick. Alzheimer's. She doesn't even remember who I am, eighty percent of the time." Alec didn't even blink.

"But she does remember some of time, right?"

"I guess." The shadowhunter stood up.

"Great. You and Jace try talking to her. Izzy and I will go see what we can find at the house."

"I'll go with you," Annabelle piped up. Dexter frowned.

"Maybe it's best if you went home…" She just looked at him, and it was silent for a moment as they shared a look that Jace couldn't decipher.

"Alright." Dexter said at last. "Just… be careful okay?" She grimaced.

"Look who's talking."

XXX

Jace had never liked mundane Hospitals. It was the quiet, really, that bothered him. The hushed voices of nurses and visitors, the emptiness in the walls that was almost palpable despite the fact that some of these places where so overcrowded that there were patients sleeping in the halls. This hospital wasn't Manhattan General though, or Israel Beth. It was one of those smaller, independent medical centres that specialised in some area of medicine like orthopaedics or neurology, or some particular condition like AIDS, or in this case, Alzheimer's slash dementia.

Jace waited out of the way as Dexter spoke with one of the nurses at the front desk. Through a door to his left was some kind of rec room, where about ten or so mundanes, in the older age bracket, sat on reclining lounges and cream sofas. Some of the patients sat with orderlies and nurses, laughing and talking, or playing board games, while others just sat. He was peering in at the group curiously when an old man of seventy or eighty or so met his eyes. The man just stared at him, eyes (an unnervingly bright blue) penetrating until Jace couldn't stand to look anymore.

"Jace?" The blonde boy jumped at Dexter's sudden appearance. "C'mon." Jace followed the other boy down the hall towards the elevators.

XXX

Clary was somewhat surprised at Annabelle's composure as they passed through the portal. A brief look of surprise and then she just seemed to accept it. Clary had been more perplexed at the sight of the portal when she'd first seen one in Dorothea's apartment, all those years ago. Although, Cary allowed, Annabelle had had the sight her entire life, while Clary's had been disabled for the first 16 years of her life. Maybe the older girl had just seen to many weird things in her life to find something as boring as a portal all that astounding.

The farmhouse Dexter had grown up in was a sweet looking thing. It was a smallish, two story abode with pale green painted weatherboard and a peeling white porch that stretched across the front of the house and round the side. About a hundred or so feet from the house was a faded barn, hay spilling through the front doors. Two weather worn silos were attached to the barn. Behind the house and barn was a very dilapidated picket fence, and behind the fence she could make out a seemingly empty paddock and acres of farmland, lines of bushy yellow flowering plants growing there. The flowers stretched out to the horizon where the woodlands started again. The drive up to the house was loose clay dirt and stained the bottom of Clary's sneakers and come up in little clouds when she stepped through the portal.

Clary, who had heard of the trip and refused to be left behind, climbed the steps to the porch after Annabelle, followed closely by the Lightwood siblings. Annabelle knocked on the door. They waited nobody answered. She shrugged and pushed open the unlocked door, and they made their way into the house.

The inside of the house was nothing special. Cream walls and chipped floorboards that led through an entry to a set of stairs, which disappeared into the top floor. To their right was a sitting room with floral curtains, an overstuffed pale blue sofa and armchair and a fireplace topped with framed photos. A boxy television sat in a TV cabinet filled with China and more photographs. To their left was a dining room with what was possibly the most worn out dining suite Clary had ever seen.

"Alright," The Annabelle started, "So Dexter's mom always kept her files and stuff in the sewing room, which is just back behind the dining room." She gestured to her left. The lightwoods nodded curtly and left through the dining room. Annabelle laughed nervously, and Clary would have had to be deaf to have missed the strain.

"They're not much for talking, are they?" She asked Clary. She smiled, sympathetically.

"The Lightwoods aren't used to being around mundanes, even if you have been seeing through glamour your entire life." She shrugged. "They've just always been a bit sheltered from all of this." She gestured around her. "It's not personal." Annabelle nodded.

"There are some photo albums in here if you want to look at them while they're in the sewing room." She gestured to the sitting room, "I mean, I don't know if it'll be any help…"

"No," Clary smiled, "We might be able to find something there. You know what they say; a picture's worth a thousand words."

XXX

"I can't believe we got lost."

Dexter rolled his eyes at Jace as they approached outside his mom's room, 112. "Grace Fletcher" was written on a label next to the door handle.

"Sorry." He turned and leant against the door. "They've moved her since I was here last."

"Which was…" Dexter sniffed and felt a wave of guilt was over him. He shifted, uncomfortable.

"Christmas." Jace raised an eyebrow.

"I know, I know." He was starting to get pissed. Like it was any of Jace's business how often he visited his mother. "I don't visit enough, okay? Don't you give me those judgey eyes." He slid down the door to the floor, staring at his feet miserably. Jace sat down next to him, and when Dexter turned to look at him, his face was softer, his eyes gentle. When he spoke his voice was kind.

"Sorry. Why not?" Dexter sighed then, pressing his palms together.

"I never know what to expect. I mean, sometimes she remembers me, and its fine and we talk and it's almost like nothing's wrong. But then most of the times I come she'll have no idea who I am, or she'll think I'm my uncle Adam, or on really bad days, her Dad. And it's just," He ran a hand through his hair, "it's just a lot easier to avoid coming all together. It just confuses her, or upsets both of us." They were silent for a few moments. Dexter almost immediately regrated saying anything.

"I'm sorry." Jace said.

"I've never understood why people always apologise for things that aren't their fault." Jace just stared at him.

"What? What's wrong?" Dexter asked, confused.

"Nothing," He said. "It's just- I guess I'm just saying that I'm sorry you're unhappy." Dexter smiled and stood up, offering his hand to Jace who stook it and allowed himself to be pulled off the ground.

"I'm not always unhappy," Dexter allowed, "Just sometimes." He turned then and knocked on the door tentatively before pushing in.

Nothing could have prepared Dexter for what he saw next. The walls of the hospital room were dripping with blood, the red oozing into the once pale carpet. It was everywhere. Everything in the room was completely destroyed. Furniture was torn apart, the bed mattress and pillows shredded. White feathers still floated in the air, swaying as they drifted slowly to the blood soaked floor. Whatever was of his mother lying face down, mangled and broken on the carpet.

At the sight his head jerked back instinctively, and he stepped back only to collide with Jace's front. His world spun as he felt his knees betrayed him, buckling so he could no longer stand. He expected to hit the ground, hard, but was kept from falling by a strong around his waist and across his chest. He tried to step forward, towards his mother, but Jace was half pulling, half carrying him backwards into the hallway.

Dexter's vision blurred with tears as his stomach lurched. He was allowed to kneel. He could hear screaming, but it seemed distant, and someone was saying his name, over and over again. But all he could seem to think of was how he was glad he hadn't eaten anything in the past two days.

"Dexter, Dexter!" Jace's voice and face became clear. He started to say something to him but stopped, remembering something he'd seen.

Before he knew it, he was on his feet, heading towards the door. A nurse was crying into the phone a few feet from the door. Dexter stopped at the doorway, feeling nauseous. Jace stopped next to him, gripping his arm, keeping him steady. They both stared. The words were written, dark on the window pane, dripping blood. . Jace stopped next to him, gripping his arm, keeping him steady. They both stared. The words were written, dark on the window pane, dripping blood.

You shouldn't have left her by herself.

Oooh cliffie. I know it's been a while since I've updated, so sorry about that. Please review or favourite if you get the chance. Thanks,

Beth.