CHAPTER 2: HELL'S BELLS

The clash between swords makes the walls tremble. Each blow is stronger than the last. Angel blades hit the Nephilim's strange swords repeatedly, driven by impeccable swings from both sides. No group seems to gain the upper hand.

The Winchesters attack their adversaries relentlessly. However, their foes' impenetrable defense prevents them from laying a single cut. Their continuous efforts are useless against the Nephilim's strength, speed and battle style. Hope begins abandoning them.

"Damn, they are fast," Dean tries catching his breath back.

"They sure know how to fight," Sam breathes heavily.

Noticing the Winchesters' tiredness, all four Nephilim charge against them. Instead of moving or running, Sam and Dean decide to hold their position. Both brothers look at each other's eyes. Their thoughts are the same. This may well be it.

A loud gunshot is suddenly heard, followed by a strong and firm voice that stops everyone out cold.

"ENOUGH!"

The last person they expected to see appears before them.

"Cass?"

"Stop fighting, both of you," Castiel's voice tone is as dry as ever.

"Careful, Cass," Dean interrupts him. "They're Nephilim."

"Dean, listen to me…"

While Dean argues with Castiel, his brother notices two more people at the scene. One of them is a young, black haired man, dressed in casual teenage attires and standing in front of the Nephilim group, presumably stopping them from fighting. The other one is Luke Garroway, the NYPD detective they had met earlier at the morgue, holding his still smoking service weapon. Tons of questions roam through Sam's mind. What's that detective doing here? What's Cass doing here? What the hell's going on?

"Sam, Dean, I will explain everything soon, but now we've got to get out of here," Castiel firmly says.

"This place will be swarming with cops anytime now, and there are explanations I wouldn't like to give tonight," Garroway intervenes. "Right now, you two need to listen to Castiel."

"Oh, but you know each other?" Dean asks angrily.

"Dean, please…"

After hearing Castiel's plea, the Winchesters reluctantly put their weapons away. The still unknown young man walks near the angel.

"Everything all right here?"

"Yes, Simon," Castiel answers. "Everything's all right."

"You all need to get the hell out of here, now!" Garroway shouts after looking at his cellphone. "NYPD's minutes away from the building."

"We will all meet in an hour at this place," Castiel hands Sam a small business card. "I will explain everything and answer all your questions. Understood?"

Sam barely has time to read the words "Jade Wolf" written on it before putting it away. Dean and Jace stare at each other eye to eye. The tension building up between them can be felt a mile away.

"Understood?!" Castiel raises his voice.

The Winchesters pick up their guns and slowly walk towards the elevator, passing near the Nephilim group. While Sam merely looks at them and passes by, Dean stands in front of them, stares at both women seductively and arrogantly taunts Jace.

"You guys are lucky he stopped us."

Dean sarcastically smiles before walking away. Sam rolls his eyes and emits a weary sigh before both go into the same elevator that had brought them up, emptying his lungs when the doors close and the trajectory down begins.

"Shit, that was weird," Dean mutters.

The Jade Wolf, Brooklyn, New York, Late night.

The Winchesters stand separated from the Nephilim group inside the Jade Wolf Chinese food restaurant. Castiel accompanies his longtime friends, Garroway and Simon stand beside the other group and Dean argues with Jace about the events at the penthouse. Everyone else stare at them.

"You hit me."

"You tried hitting me first."

"Really, guys?" Clary meddles in.

"Dean, stop," Castiel complains. "They are not our enemies."

"How can a group of Nephilim not be?" Dean asks angrily.

"We could say the same thing about you, mundanes," Jace reacts.

"Cass, where'd you meet these guys?"

"We met at the Pandemonium, agent," Garroway appears behind them, staring at both the Winchesters and the Nephilim group. "We did something pretty smart back there. It's called talking. You should try it sometime."

The Winchesters notice the place's emptiness with unease. The old wooden customer tables are poorly lit by some old round Chinese lamps, partially showing a substantial deterioration. Moist or termites? Sam thinks. Dean grabs one of the menus on the bar and briefly browses through it.

"Dean, we should at least listen to what Cass has to say," Sam mutters.

"Oh, now you're on their side, Sam? You wanna' be friends with them too?"

"Simon and I will brief our people, Castiel," Garroway says, ignoring Dean's complaints. "Be quick. Remember, there's no time to waste."

Castiel sits with the Winchesters at one of the tables meant for clients. Both brothers stare at the angel. Many questions roam through their minds. The fallen seraph knows it and waits for them in silence. Dean decides to break it.

"You know them, Cass?"

"I met Simon and the detective at the Pandemonium. The Nephilim are part of an old story."

"Old story?" Sam sounds surprised. "Since when Nephilim roam the streets of New York?"

"I want you to know that the existence of this particular group was not exactly known to Heaven's authorities," Castiel sighs. "Theories, rumors and legends about them existed, but nothing had been confirmed so far. The fact of seeing them with my own eyes changes everything."

"What are you talking about, Cass?" Dean starts getting edgy.

"Some time in the medieval ages, there was a major invasion from Hell to this world," Castiel calmly explains. "Demon hordes led by Lilith and the Princes of Hell relentlessly consumed everything in their path. This event is known to us as The Incursion."

"Yes, we knew that," Dean abruptly interrupts him. "Wyoming, the Devil's Gate. What's that got to do with this people?"

"The Devil's Gate was just the end of it," Castiel continues. "Before being locked up, the demons had laid behind a path of waste and destruction, causing Michael and the most warmonger angels' eagerness to intervene. Earth was straightly headed towards an apocalypse."

"And?"

"In order to avoid such disastrous outcome, God forbid all angels to walk the Earth and secretly gave the task to the archangel Raziel of saving humanity."

"Another archangel?" Dean asks. "I thought there were only four of them. How come we never met this one?"

"It is said that this particular archangel can not walk the Earth, not even by claiming a vessel, unless he is specially summoned. It seems that God used his prophet to enlighten the mind of one particular human, granting him the tools and the knowledge to summon Raziel. Only then would he be able to obtain his help and repel the demons."

"Repel them how, exactly?" Sam asks.

"By creating an army of Nephilim."

"You're not really saying that these schoolboys are…"

"Yes, Dean. Raziel's blood runs through their veins."

The Winchesters stare at Castiel in shock. They fearfully remember Lucifer's unborn and unfound child inside Kelly Kline's womb, as well as the power the offspring might hold. Their brows almost reach the sky. Do all of them really have archangel grace?

"Let me get this straight," Dean stares at Castiel. "We have a group of potential Lucifer Juniors running around New York, and we didn't even know?"

"It isn't exactly like that," Castiel replies.

"THEN HOW THE HELL IS IT?!"

"Dean, calm down. There's nothing to worry about."

"We're sitting here, at a Chinese food restaurant, next to a group of damn Nephilim," Dean complains. "And not sired by angels, no. ARCHANGELS! Tell me how the hell am I not supposed to worry?!"

"Dean's right, Cass," Sam says. "We've seen what those with angel grace can do. A Nephilim sired by an archangel could tear the world apart as we know it, and I see four of them."

"Actually, there are many more," Castiel claims.

"This just gets better and better," Dean angrily mutters. "A whole family of super Nephilm. Great…"

"Something doesn't add up, though," Sam scratches his chin. "If they have archangel grace as you say, how come Dean and I could hold our own against them back at the penthouse? I mean, he fought the blond guy blow for blow before he pumped up. And even then, he could hold him off with an angel blade."

"That's what I have been trying to tell you," Castiel replies. "They are not pure Nephilim. They were not conceived through Raziel's bond with a human. They were created."

"Created how?" Sam grows edgy.

"Through a ritual that merges human and angel blood."

"Like Azazel did with me?"

"Similar, except they don't have to drink angel blood to maintain or bolster their power," Castiel calmly explains. "These Nephilim channel their angelic grace through celestial runes, which are shown to them through books and visions provided by the angels serving Raziel. The tattoos you see on their bodies are the representation of those runes."

"That explains a lot," Sam mutters to his brother.

"Well, the guy they call Jace seemed pretty strong to me," Dean asserts. "I don't know if I would still be here if the fight had gone on a little longer."

"The grace inside them does give them supernatural abilities. They are stronger, faster and more resilient than a human is, and they can use the celestial runes, which could be fatal if a human tries to use them. On the other hand, since the grace inside them is not purely theirs, it does not bind strongly to their human soul. Contrary to pure Nephilim, their power rarely exceeds the one of a common angel."

Sam and Dean begin to feel a bit less threatened by the Nephilim group. They are not that dangerous, then, Dean thinks while he watches them talk to Garroway and Simon. Sam asks Castiel another question that roams through his mind.

"Anyway, why are you in New York, Cass?"

"A friend from Heaven asked me to come investigate an alarming celestial energy spark right here in this city. We were supposed to meet at that Pandemonium club, but he never came. Instead, I ran into Simon and detective Garroway, while investigating the man you asked. They inexplicably saw through my FBI agent cover very easily."

"I wonder why that happened," Dean smiles with sarcasm.

"Well, it wasn't hard to figure out that agent Beyonce doesn't exist," Garroway walks near the table where the Winchesters are sitting. "As for you two, it only took a phone call."

"You're good," Dean sarcastically brags. "Tell me, detective, do you know what we're dealing with here?"

Garroway suddenly shows a set of teeth well-known to the Winchesters. Werewolf, both think at the same time. As his teeth go back to normal, the rest of the Nephilim crew walk near the table. Simon smiles at them, showing a pair of shiny vampire fangs.

"You guys should know that Garroway and Simon are not Nephilim, but aren't human either."

"No shit," Dean snorts.

"Garroway is a werewolf and Simon is a vampire. They work with the Nephilim, doing exactly the same thing you do. They hunt monsters and save people."

"Yeah, sure," Dean smiles. "I bet they even have a team name. Which is it? The Justice League? The Avengers?"

"Well, they call themselves Shadowhunters," Simon intervenes, despite Garroway and the Nephilim's disapproving stare.

"Wow, they do have a name," Dean snorts. "Nephilim acting as hunters, werewolves working as cops. New York is quite a circus. No wonder our guys avoid this place."

Just as with Simon and his crew, Dean earns Sam's eye rolls and weary sighs. A senseless argument ensues afterwards with neither group willing to give in to Castiel and Garroway's soothing attempts. After a few minutes and a few chance-giving requests, the Winchesters and the Nephilim agree to knock it off. The werewolf detective decides to make introductions.

"I think you guys know Jace and me pretty well. The rest of the crew here are Clary, Isabelle, Alec, and of course, Simon."

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Sam brings his hand forward under his brother's weary glaze.

Sam's hand remains unshaken for a few seconds. No Nephilim reciprocates his gesture. However, one of them breaks the ice right before the hunter tries to pull it back, showing a warm and kind smile.

"Clary Fairchild. And I'm sorry for, you know, what happened before…"

"It's all right," Sam smiles back.

Clary's apparent young age, her evident beauty and her apparent fragility make Sam wonder about what had happened back at the penthouse. I can't believe this little girl kicked my ass like that, he silently smiles. Her pale skin, slim constitution and small size are confusing, especially to those who would dare challenge her. Far from fear, her green eyes transmit a soothing feeling of peace. Her clothing remains simple and conservative, limited to an olive green jacket, black shirt and dark blue jeans, giving her the appearance of a simple college girl. The tattooed runes on her exposed skin parts remind him of her true nature.

"Well, it seems we're starting to get along," Simon sighs, looking at Sam and Clary's prolonged handshake with jealousy.

"Now that everyone's finally calm, we can tend to the real problems," Garroway says. "For starters, I'd like to know what business you hunters have here in New York."

"Well, we didn't completely lie to you, detective," Sam answers. "Cassidy Blossom's case popped up on our radar, and we suspected a werewolf attack. We decided to take it."

"And what does the penthouse have to do with Cassidy Blossom?"

"Our investigation led us there, more specifically to Nicholas Andrew Clay,or "Nick". We suppose he's the one who killed her."

"It's just as I thought," Garroway turns his sight towards his group. "It seems it's all connected."

"Mind sharing your thoughts with us too, detective?" Dean seems annoyed.

"Around a week ago, the NYPD got an anonymous tip about a man killing people and feeding on them, apparently at random. I forwarded the info to the Shadowhunters, so that they could handle him their way. Turns out the bastard was more slippery than we all thought."

"And how did you end up at the penthouse?"

"Our institute's got state-of-the-art tracking software," Jace intervenes. "Using various algorithms, we could track him down the minute he purchased a greenockite crystal."

"Greeno…what?"

"It's a sulfur based mineral," Jace smiles, mocking Dean's ignorance. "Its crystallized form is extremely rare and emits an almost unique radiation pattern. There are records that documents its use in various rituals, especially summoning ones."

"Dean, a sulfur based mineral, plus the stuff we saw at the penthouse, could only mean…"

"Our friend Nick was summoning demons," Dean ends his brother's muttered assertion.

"While you two cowboys were fighting Jace, Clary and I went to help Alec contain the summoned demons," Isabelle says. "However, there was one we couldn't stop, and now it's running loose here in New York."

"How'd he get through you guys?" Simon meddles in.

"He was extremely fast, like none we had ever seen before. He barely gave us time to see him."

"Finding that monster is priority one," Alec says. "After that, we can focus on dealing with the damn vampire who summoned it."

"Vampire?" Sam asks. "What vampire? Was there anyone else at the penthouse?"

"Nick is a vampire," Isabelle stares at Sam. "He's dangerous, and he's one of our institute's most wanted. The file we have on him makes him responsible for at least two dozen murders among mundanes during the last year, some of them not even with feeding purposes. Sometimes he kills just for the fun of it."

"What's with you guys and the word mundane?" Dean complains. "Can't you just say human?"

"Mundane is our code word that stands for humans without abilities or knowledge concerning the supernatural."

"Oh…"

Dean's seductive spirit compels him to strip Isabelle naked with his sight. He indiscreetly stares at her female attributes, despite her gazing back at him with her piercing brown eyes. Her perfect and voluptuous curves give a rather nice form to the delicate lace of her black short dress, which shows a moderate amount of her cleavage and thighs. Her dark hair merges with her garments, and the dark red color over her lips make the beauty of her face stand out, strengthened by her serious and confident expression. Her tattooed runes shine under the Chinese lamp next to her. She sure is hot, he mutters.

"There's something I've been asking myself," Alec stares at the Winchesters. "How could they see us at the penthouse? What happened to our Glamour?"

"Nick must have cast a spell that allowed him to steal it from us," Jace asserts. "That must be how he escaped."

"Yeah, but despite that, we have The Sight," Clary says. "How could we not see him head out?"

"I believe Jace is right," Isabelle says. "Seeing how all four of us became visible to the Winchesters' eyes, the spell must have been strong enough to steal the Glamour from everyone there. Add a bit of vampire celerity to that and you practically become invisible to anyone or anything's eyes."

"What's Glamour?" Sam asks.

"Glamour is a kind of illusory magic that conceals some aspects of the supernatural world from the human eye," Alec says. "We Shadowhunters use it to remain invisible to mundanes, but some creatures use it for fun, or to trick their prey. You can only see through Glamour if you possess The Sight."

While the Winchesters listen to Alec's explanation, Castiel walks near them and swiftly touches both their foreheads, causing them a mild sparking sensation. Dean shows discomfort.

"What was that?"

"You should be able to see through most illusions now," Castiel mutters. "You're going to need it, especially during your stay in New York."

"You sure that won't kill them?" Jace asks. "Most mundanes that have been granted The Sight without proper preparation have gone insane."

"They are prepared enough," Castiel replies.

"Well, it's been nice knowing y'all," Dean walks away in front of everyone's disapproving stare, including his brother's. "Sam and I have got some vampire-werewolf serial killer to bring down. I'll be seeing you guys in, what, a thousand years? Nope, too soon."

"Wow, wow, wow," Garroway stops him. "The deal I made with Castiel here included the help of you two fellas, in exchange for us helping him with his "thing". We could really use your expertise here."

"HELP FROM THEM?!" Jace and Dean yell simultaneously.

"It's not a negotiation. We got a lot of ground to cover, and there's a demon on the loose with god knows what intentions. Plus there's this Nick guy."

All members of the Nephilim group show the same long faces. Sam and Dean reciprocate the expression when hearing they'd be working alongside a bunch of kids carrying angel blood in their veins. We worked with all sorts of monsters, but never with Nephilim, Dean thinks. Sam tries accepting the situation, asserting that there are more players on the table. There's something bigger going on here, he thinks before cracking the ice between both sides.

"Well, where do we start?"

"Clary, I need you with me and Castiel," Luke rapidly says. "We need to head to the Institute, I'll explain along the way. Alec, you lead the rest, and use the Winchesters' help."

"Hey, who said we would take orders from…"

"Dean, let's listen to their ideas and at least see if they make sense," Sam interrupts his brother.

"All right," Alec sighs. "I need two teams. One goes back to the penthouse, and see if we can find any leads regarding Nick or the demon's whereabouts. The other one goes towards Downworlder areas, see if you could ask around about any of this."

"Raphael can help us with that," Simon says. "If there's anyone who knows about every single vampire in New York, it's him. I doubt he'll want to talk to any of us, though, since the sword..."

"He'll talk to me," Isabelle firmly interrupts him. "I'll head over to his place."

"Izzy, I don't think you should…"

"I'll be fine. Besides, I won't go alone."

"Well, Simon is right when he says Raphael doesn't want to see any Shadowhunter near him," Clary says. "I don't know which one of us you could take with you."

"One of the Winchesters will accompany me."

Dean walks near her, hoping to get picked for the ride. However, before he could open his mouth, Isabelle stares at Sam.

"Sam, is it?"

"Yes?"

"Since we're going to work together, I'd like you to come along. I don't want to walk into a vampire's house on my own."

Sam agrees with her as Dean's facial expression grows sour. Oh man, Sam gets to Scooby Doo with the hot one, he silently complains. What'd she see in him?

"With that matter settled, the rest of us will head back to the penthouse," Alec continues his briefing. "Back there, we didn't get the chance of taking a closer look at the spot where demons came out. We surely missed a lot of things."

"Is the mundane coming?" Jace arrogantly asks.

"Jace, save it," Alec complains. "You can come, hunter. But if you get hurt, it's on you. Is it clear?"

"Crystal," Dean smiles, looking at Jace in a threatening way.

"When you're done, we meet back at the Institute. Good luck to everyone."

Back to the Penthouse, 59th Street, Upper West Side, Manhattan, New York, 4:00 A.M.

Dean parks the Impala in front of the well-known tall building. Simon sits in the front. Jace and Alec occupy the back seat.

"Remind me again," Jace complains. "Why did we have to drive all the way? A portal would have gotten us here in seconds."

"I have a bad experience with portals and teleportation," Dean replies. "We drive. End of story."

"Well, at least we drove on a classic," Simon meddles in. "Which year's your Chevy? 67, right?"

"I like you better already, kid," Dean smiles.

"Well, you could have at least turned the music a bit down," Jace complains again. "Listening to ACDC inside a car with you guys wasn't exactly the way I wanted to spend the night."

"I wanted to go with the hot brunette, so we're even."

"HEY!" Alec yells out of a sudden. "Both of you knock it off! And show some respect, hunter! You're talking about my sister."

Everyone remains silent in front of the Nephilim's leader's scolding, with the only emitted sound being Jace's weary sigh. Alec then leans towards the Impala's front seat, looking at the dark windows corresponding to the penthouse through the windshield.

"We go in, check out the place, and head out," He mutters. "We gear up, just in case."

"Those can openers you carry, do they kill demons too?" Jace arrogantly looks at Dean.

"They hurt you, didn't they?" Dean checks his gun's ammo and hands it over to Simon

"Oh, no, no, no," the vampire rejects it. "I haven't carried or shot a gun in my life. Besides, what good would it do against demons?"

Dean ejects the clip, pulls out the first round and shows it to Simon. The young and unexperienced vampire notices the pentagram carved on the bullet's tip. Jace and Alec look at it with curiosity.

"Devil's trap bullets," Dean brags. "Shoot one of these into a Demon's head, he'll be more frozen than a polar bear. Still don't want to carry it around?"

Simon tries grabbing the gun, but Dean pulls it out from his grasp.

"Too late, kid. Try not to break a fang up there."

"Are you done?" Alec gets edgy. "Can we go up there now?"

All members of the newly formed team get out of the car and walk towards the building entrance. Dean notices the two NYPD officers standing at each side of the double doors. Crap, he complains while reaching for his fake FBI badge. Let's see what bullshit I can pull on these two.

"Agent Summers, FBI. We come to check out the penthouse."

Both officers ignore him, looking everywhere but his position. Dean raises his voice while repeating his sentence. Jace looks at him in a mocking kind of way.

"You do know they can't listen to you, right? We're Glamoured."

"Very funny," Dean sighs while putting away his fake badge. "Couldn't you just mention that before…?"

"The look on your face is priceless."

"Quit screwing around," Alec scolds them again. "Let's get this over with."

All four of them use the elevator to reach the penthouse, noticing the building manager's oddity look at the presumably empty cabin. Upon reaching the 19th floor, Dean smells the same stench as before, this time a bit more attenuated. It seems they cleaned up the place, he thinks. Jace and Alec remain silent during the trip.

"Finally," Simon sighs with joy when the screen marks the 20th floor.

The elevator doors open slowly, giving the team enough time to pull their weapons out. The pitch black darkness forces Dean to turn his flashlight on, while Alec and Jace draw circular patterns on their necks with strange wands, slightly burning their skins in the process. Dean looks at them with strangeness.

"Runes that allow us to see in the dark," Jace mutters.

"Oh."

"Let's head straight to the portal," Alec whispers. "Look alive, everyone."

Dean, Simon and Jace nod before slowly heading towards the room mentioned by Alec. They all notice the absence of the candles and the bloody corpses, as well as the recently mopped floor and clean walls. However, some remaining blood stains shine under the hunter's flashlight. The smell of death and putrefaction remains present.

The team enters the room where the portal had been presumably open, noticing it is devoid of any furniture or lamps. A big, black stain covers almost the whole floor, showing the shape of an explosion. Its darkness is not mitigated by the light emitted by the flashlight. Dean touches the blackness, noticing it is a mixture of ashes and soot, well stuck to the wooden planks.

"Simon, do you sense anything?" Alec asks.

"I don't feel any traces of blood or demonic energy," Simon replies. "Just a room with a lot of burning smell."

"This is the place the demons came through," Alec claims. "There were five in total. Four of them were Eidolons. As for the fifth one…"

"What's an Eidolon?" Dean asks.

"It's the name we give to a certain class of demon," Alec explains himself. "They don't have any form of free will, and their existence is limited to following orders coming mostly from high demonic entities. They are normally easy to handle, but some of them possess unique abilities that could prove to be dangerous."

"Right," Dean says. "Was the fifth one an Eido…thingy?"

"It was a species none of us had seen before," Alec continues. "It was able to easily send Clary, Izzy and me flying across the room, and then disappear without leaving a trace."

"Do you remember any details? Flickering lights? Room tremor? The color of its eyes?"

"It happened barely in a few seconds. The walls trembled, as they normally would with the opening of a demonic portal, and there were no lights here to notice their flickering. However, I can assure you it was pretty big, and it disappeared in a void and instantaneous way."

"Any of this rings any bells?" Jace asks.

"Well, Sam and I have dealt with all sorts of demons, even elite ones. However, we have never seen a summoning that could cause this type of damage. Besides, eeeh…"

"Alec…"

"Alec, correct," Dean apologizes. "What Alec saw isn't a trademark for a specific type of demon. All we've seen so far, including Knights and Princes of Hell, have the ability to teleport."

"Well, it must have been an important demon," Jace asserts. "Remember all the blood, the human sacrifices, the pentagrams, the sigil, the messages in Gehennic written on the walls…"

"Gehennic?" Dean raises his brows. "Is that a language? Can you translate?"

"I thought you knew about it, given the experience you guys have with demons…"

"Was there anything useful written on the walls?" Dean tries cutting Jace's crap.

Jace pulls out a cellphone from inside his pocket. He swiftly opens the image gallery, showing a group of recently taken pictures of the penthouse when the bloody decor was at its most. The first pics to show up are the strange wall-written texts, with blood still dripping from the characters' bottoms.

"Before trying to get the jump on Nick, I had the chance of taking some pictures, focusing mostly on the texts. I figured out that most of them showed one unique sentence which repeated itself over and over again."

"What sentence?" Simon asks with curiosity.

"We, children of the dark, humbly ring the bells of Hell."

"Nick sure rang them," Dean mutters.

"There's this word, this sole word I can not translate in these texts, and it appears in three different spots," Jace says. "Alec, a little help?"

"Cham…Sa…'El…" Alec tries reading the text from Jace's opened cellphone image.

"You know its meaning?"

"No, not a clue," Alec sighs. "I'm sure that someone at the Institute knows. We'll figure it out when we head back."

"Well, what we can all agree on is that there's nothing else to see in this room," Dean asserts. "What do you say we check the rest of the penthouse in case we missed something?"

The rest of the crew agrees with the hunter, covering each one a room. The sounds emitted by Simon's vampire celerity can be heard all over the penthouse, being discreetly observed by Dean. This is new, he mutters. I've never seen a vamp' move so fast. We ought to be careful in case we run into one of these in the future. After almost ten minutes of searching, all four team members gather at the lobby with empty hands. They all agree that the place has been cleaned in a worrisome way.

"Someone was here before us," Alec concludes. "They just left the ashes and the empty furniture. Everything else just disappeared."

"We won't find anything else here, that's for sure," Dean says. "I hope Sam and Isabelle had more luck."

"Ah, you do remember her name?" Simon smiles.

"Dude, you just sounded like the stupid party kid that says "I think Dean likes that girl", out loud…"

"Whatever," Alec sighs. "Let's head back to the Institute."

"We drive!" Dean startles him.

"Yeah, all right, as long as we don't have to listen to ACDC all the damn way," Jace complains. "You got anything from that British band, The Rolling Stones?"

"You just went up a step in my respect ladder…"

Raphael Santiago's apartment, Midtown, Manhattan, New York, 4:00 A.M.

After walking through a portal created at the Jade Wolf, Sam and Isabelle find themselves in front of a strong and varnished brown wooden door. Sam notices they are standing in a corridor belonging to the upper floors of an apartment building, situated somewhere in Manhattan.

"I will do the talking," Isabelle barely looks at Sam's face. "The only thing I need from you is not to leave me alone with him, and stop me if I do something…unconventional. Understood?"

"Something like what, exactly?" Sam observes the newly formed rings under Isabelle's eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Listen, I didn't bring you with me for small talk or becoming friends. I just picked you because I don't like to be seen like this by my people, and your brother wouldn't stop staring at me with sexual interests. Just do as I say, ok?"

"All right."

"Just so you know, Raphael is a vampire, and the leader of one of New York's most powerful clans," Isabelle breathes heavily. "He hasn't killed anyone, and he has helped us in many cases, some of them involving his own people. Don't even think about pulling any of your hunter stuff here."

Sam raises his brows upon hearing Isabelle's words. If he's a clan leader, he must be old, he thinks while reluctantly agreeing to the Nephilim's terms. She decides to try knocking on the door. It opens before her fist reaches the oak.

The man on the other side doesn't impress Sam. He doesn't look that old, he thinks. To the hunter's eyes, he seems both handsome and elegant. His black hair matches his eye color, and ais haircut, along with his well shaved face, give his symmetrical traits a clean and elegant touch. His black silk shirt and dressing pants shine intensely under the corridor's light.

"Raphael."

"What are you doing here, Isabelle?"

"May I come in?"

"Not at this moment," the man tries closing the door. "Even less if you bring a Winchester with you."

"We didn't come here to fight," Sam makes a peace and soothing arm gesture. "We only need your help."

Raphael lowers his sight and breathes heavily. Then he looks straight at Isabelle' brown eyes and darkened eyelids. He pushes his arm against his house's barely open door.

"We really need to speak with you," Isabelle whispers. "I know what I said, what happened back at the Institute, but I need your help, just this once. I promise I will not bother you again."

Raphael sighs before opening the door, showing mistrust and resentment. Sam courteously lets Isabelle in first, before entering the vampire's apartment. Here we go, he thinks while taking a quick look at the place.

Sam notices that Raphael's home has nothing to do with the vampire nests he's used to see. The apartment is quite big, and it's equipped with modern appliances. The kitchen can be clearly seen from the entrance, with its counters simulating a bar bearing its three modern stools. A big L-shaped red couch lies in the middle of the living room, where the house owner invites them to take a seat. The lighting is purposely dim.

"May I offer you something to drink?"

"No, thanks," Isabelle answers. "We're good."

"Well, Isabelle, this isn't easy for any of us. Let's just cut through the chase."

Sam notices Isabelle and Raphael staring at each other. The Nephilim's upper eyelids slowly succumb to his mere appearance, and her pupils travel all around his body. What the hell is going on with these two? He asks himself before touching her shoulder, allowing her to return to reality. Both of them clear their throats and Isabelle starts speaking.

"We need information about one of your guys."

"Is he dead, or does he still breathe?" Raphael asks with hostility.

"Unluckily, this one's alive, and involved into some serious stuff," Isabelle regains her breath. "He goes by the name Nick."

"That doesn't say much," Raphael says. "There are many Nicks among the New York vampire community."

"Nicholas Andrew Clay," Sam intervenes, in front of Isabelle's weary gaze. "Gray eyes, pale skin, prominent cheeks."

"Hearing his full name was enough. What do you want with him?"

"We're after him for several mundane murders," Isabelle answers. "Plus he has recently summoned a demon that's running loose on the streets of New York."

Raphael diverts his sight from Sam and Isabelle. He breathes heavily, scratches his hair and looks back at them right after. Sam notices rings under his eyes as well.

"Nicholas was never part of my clan," he says. "I don't know who sired him, but I know it happened almost a year ago. He joined Camille."

"And Camille is now behind bars," Isabelle deduces. "He's either leading the clan, or he's gone rogue."

"Months before the Clave locked up Camille, she had Nick cast out from her clan," Raphael continues. "He's gone rogue since way before."

"Who's Camille?" Sam asks.

"Camille is another vampire clan leader here in New York," Isabelle answers. "She was incarcerated by the Clave for violation of The Accords, and for turning a mundane without consent or authorization."

Sam wrinkles his face and raises his cheeks. Another clan? And what's that about The Accords? Isabelle notices his unawareness.

"I'll explain everything on the way back," she tells the hunter, then she turns back to Raphael. "Do you know why Camille banned him?"

"I have no idea, but to be cast out by her…"

"I understand," Isabelle interrupts him. "You wouldn't happen to know where to find him, do you?"

"I haven't got the slightest clue," Raphael sighs. "Sorry I can't be of much help to you."

"It's all right."

Isabelle stands up, followed by Sam and Raphael. The latter walks them towards the door. Before reaching it, the vampire firmly grabs the Nephilim's hand under her weary stare. The hunter reaches out for his gun.

"That guy, Nick, seems dangerous," Raphael closely whispers. "Be careful out there, Izzy."

"Don't worry," Isabelle softly withdraws her hand. "I can take care of myself."

"Winchester!" Raphael raises his voice. "Take care of her, please."

Sam limits himself to briefly nod. The last mutual stare between Raphael and Isabelle seems endless. Goodbyes between them remain silent.

Upon reaching the corridor, Isabelle grabs her cellphone and makes a call. A portal immediately appears.

"Let's head back to the Institute," she says. "I will explain everything you need to know there."

"As you wish."

Isabelle goes through it first. Right before entering the portal's blackness, Sam notices Raphael standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the female Shadowhunter with genuine concern. Something big must go on between them, he mutters before going through.

Shadowhunter Institute, Manhattan, New York, 4:00 A.M.

Castiel stands in front of a big cathedral with Clary and Garroway. The reigning darkness prevents the color of the walls to be distinguished. However, the light coming from within makes the window decorations bloom. Most of them represent battles between angels and demons with a particularly gothic touch. The name of the place is engraved on the enormous double doors, using a beautiful and stylish font.

Castiel notices Clary's staring. The Shadowhunter's green eyes scour his very appearance from top to bottom, taking a special interest in his back. She even brings herself to touch him in that area, as if she is looking for something. The fallen Seraph remains still and frowns with discomfort.

"What are you doing?

"You say you're an angel," Clary stops touching him. "I can feel your essence, but your wings…"

"What about them?"

"They look like if they had been clipped, burnt and torn to shreds."

Castiel looks away and stares at the moist ground beneath him. He then sets his sights back on the cathedral.

"This is exactly the place the heavenly energy spark was detected."

"The time and date you gave us match the Soul Sword's activation," Garroway explains. "Many Downworlders died that day. If not for the hidden runes on the cathedral's walls, the blast would have been bigger."

Castiel shows a certain degree of uneasiness, scouring the cathedral from top to bottom several times.

"Do you have the sword now?"

"It disappeared after we brought the Shadowhunter who used it to justice," Clary notices the fallen angel's concern. "What worries you, Castiel? Is there something we don't know?"

"The Soul Sword, as you call it, is a divine weapon that can channel and discharge pure heavenly energy here on Earth. But to do so, it requires strong magic, or lots of angelic grace. Tell me, who managed to activate it?"

"Jace did, with a little help from the Institute's celestial energy reactor. But the one who used it on Downworlders, the one who set us all up, was my father, Valentine Morgenstern. Jace just thought he could destroy it with his touch."

"That explains…lots of things. Thank you."

Castiel's tension seems to lower after Clary's explanation. His eyebrows go back to the soothing position they are usually on. He slowly approaches the cathedral doors.

"I need to see if traces of heavenly energy remain," he says. "May we go in?"

Clary and Garroway take him through the immense double doors, entering into an enormous lobby filled with computers and holographic interfaces. The people manning the diverse posts are perceived as Nephilim by Castiel's angel sight. This must be the rest of them, he thinks while taking a detailed look at the place. Both his hosts smile at his awe.

"Welcome to the New York City Shadowhunter Institute."

The strong lighting, alternated between electricity and widely filled chandeliers, blinds Castiel for a few seconds. Numerous computers and holographic interfaces lie at the center of the lobby. Numerous runes lie on and within the walls, most of them representing known warding sigils against demons and other night creatures, perceivable only by the angel's unique sight. Various hanging paintings depicting angels defeating demons in combat stand out to his eyes, as well as the four giant arched frames leading to adjacent areas.

Castiel's entrance causes a great impression on the present Nephilim. They kneel before Castiel, making him visibly uncomfortable. He quickly urges them to stand up through arm gestures.

"All right, gentlemen," Clary disperses the curious crew. "He's an angel, fallen, but an angel. We owe him respect, and that includes not bothering him."

Castiel sighs while he sees the Nephilim crew dispersing and manning back their posts.

"We hold celestial beings in high esteem here," Clary mutters.

"I can see that."

"I met an angel once, Ithuriel," She keeps explaining. "We rescued him from Valentine's grasp, who was planning to use him to activate the Soul Sword. Contrary to you, he did conserve his wings."

"I heard about him," Castiel says. "Ithuriel is one of the seraphs under the command of the archangel Raziel. It is rumored that he's one of his most prominent warriors, and bears a respectable reputation in Heaven. I haven't had the honor of meeting him, though."

"Heaven's a big place, huh?" Garroway asks.

Castiel ignores the detective and focuses his sight on the enormous lobby. He slowly reaches the center, extends his arms and closes his eyes for a few seconds.

"I can't feel the slightest trace of celestial energy, and the runes inside the walls seem intact. It seems the sword was not used in its full capacity. You were very lucky."

"Not everyone was," Garroway sighs.

A portal suddenly opens near them through which Isabelle and Sam emerge. Clary hugs her partner and friend, noticing the big rings under her eyes. Sam approaches Castiel while looking all around in awe. So, this is their base of operations, he deduces.

"Any luck?" Garroway asks.

"We just know Nick is new, was part of Camille's clan, and was cast out," Isabelle barely answers.

"That doesn't say much," the detective complains. "It just tells us that if Nick was too extreme for Camille, he's bad news."

"Raphael said the same thing."

"Let's hope Jace and the others did better," Clary says.

While Isabelle goes away to rest, Clary and Garroway talk to Sam and Castiel, filling them in about their history, society and laws. Their teachings enlighten the younger Winchester's mind about everything that went on at the Jade Wolf and Raphael's apartment. Twenty minutes of conversation pass unnoticed until the third group walks through the front doors.

"Finally," Garroway sighs. "Where were you guys?"

"Dean, here, didn't want to use portals," Jace complains. "He made us drive all the way."

"Wow," Dean indiscreetly stares at the place. "This is your Batcave? Cool."

"All right," the detective catches his breath back. "You guys find anything?"

"The place's been cleaned and cleansed," Alec replies. "We couldn't find anything, except for the hellish portal's ashy remains."

"At least we know that there's a big and fast demon on the loose," Dean asserts. "It was powerful enough to send three of them Shadowhunters flying. Any ideas, Sam?"

"Based on the evidence, it doesn't seem to be a lower class demon," Sam answers.

"If that's true, the beast must leave some traces of his energy wherever he goes," Alec claims. "We'll set our equipment to detect anomalies in the city, and we'll tell our contacts among Downworlders to keep an eye out for Nick. Until something pops up, let's call it a night and get some rest."

Before heading for their quarters, Jace and Clary exchange numbers with the Winchesters, while Simon heads out with Garroway. Alec says a few words before they leave.

"We'll call you as soon as something comes up. I hope you do the same."

"Don't worry," Sam reassures him. "We will. We'll do some research of our own while we're at it."

The Winchesters leave the Institute and board the Impala with Castiel. Dean screeches his way out of there.

"They seem nice folk, especially Isabelle," Dean smiles in front of his brother's weary glaze. "Where'd she go?"

"She needed to rest," Sam replies. "Anyways, something smells really fishy here."

"Meaning?"

"I mean, we came to New York to hunt a murderous monster, and we end up working alongside Nephilim and chasing demons. It's just like that time with the Prince of Hell, Ramiel."

"You think the English knew?" Dean asks angrily.

"I don't know, Dean. But I intend to find out. I'm calling Mick first thing in the morning."

"All right."

Dean accelerates the Impala, noticing Castiel's disturbing silence in the back seat.

Unknown alleyway, late night, New York.

The homeless person sleeping next to the trash cans, surrounded by garbage and empty syringes, is frightened at the sight of a pale man appearing before him. His involuntary moan alerts the being, who stares back at the bum. A pair of gray penetrating eyes are the last thing he ever sees.

Right after sucking the homeless man dry, Nick pulls out a cellphone and swiftly makes a call. He seems not to feel his bare feet touching the cold floor.

"It's done. He's walking among us, and he'll surely summon us for the next step. Be ready."

Nick hangs up, walks out the alley and disappears into the night, leaving only the bloody traces of his bare feet behind.