City of Wayward Sons

by ValykirieRevolution

Set in between 5x04 -5x08 and the beginning of City of Ashes. As Sam, Dean, and Castiel struggle to stop the end of days, Clary and the shadowhunters are at a loss to defeat Valentine. After a chance encounter in NYC team free will and the nephilim are forced to work together to save the world. Various pairings and warnings inside.

3. Ignited

Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare or Holly Black. Just unpublished fangirl hoping to entertain. I didn't come up with Isabelle's motto.

Warnings: Violence and Incest…ish. Which means at least part of this chapter is M. rated.

AN: This chapter features Silarial, a character that actually belongs to Holly Black author of the Tithe, Valiant, and Ironside books. She is a friend of Cassandra Clare, who seems to have used Silarial in the 2nd, 3rd, 4th 5th, and 6th TMI books as the Seelie Queen.

Word count: 24,099

Chapter 3: Ignited.

Clary walked down the street to meet the others at Magnus Bane's. Simon was walking beside her; he insisted on coming with her, so adamantly, that she didn't feel right refusing him. She let her fingers brush his, feeling little light bolts prick her as she did. She could see him blush out of the corner of her eye and she let him entwine his fingers with hers. He playfully bumped her shoulders, and the two nudged each other until they got to Magnus's complex.

Clary sighed. She was the one who suggested getting everyone together to discuss what was happening, but she was strangely reluctant. Simon looked at her, and he smiled reassuringly. When they got closer, a car was parked in front of the buildings. It was in the same space that the vampires had parked their motorcycles the night of the party when Clary had first met Magnus. Simon looked surprised.

"Hang on, is that-?" Simon's eyes widened.

It was the Impala. Its black doors opened and Clary could see Sam and Dean step out, along with a blond woman who didn't look much older than herself. Clary waved to get their attention and strode over to meet them.

"You're back."

Dean shrugged. "Couldn't stay away I guess."

"You guys must be huge fans." Simon blurted out. "LARPing 24/7?"

The two men just stared at Simon in confusion while the woman snorted with laughter.

"Huh?"

"He means role-playing in real life, its hardcore cosplay." Clary clarified before elbowing Simon. "Which they're not."

"Into Carver Edlund huh?" the woman asked, voice filled with mirth.

"How do you know that?" Dean asked her, as Sam feigned innocence.

"It shows?" Simon at least looked sheepish.

"Carver or well Chuck is a friend of theirs. He based his books on them." she struck out at hand. "I'm Jo."

"Simon. And this is my girlfriend Clary."

She blinked in surprise but said nothing. Clary smiled back at Jo. She was blonde and pretty with an honest face. She could almost be as slim as Isabelle, but dressed nothing like her. There was some sort of seriousness about her, but it hadn't hardened her. Maybe all hunters just ended up looking like that. It reminded her a bit of Shadowhunters.

"So you're a hunter too?"

Jo nodded. "Are Shadowhunters a boys only club?"

Simon snorted. "No it's a Shadowhunters club only."

Clary gave him a disapproving look. Jo's confusion cleared and she gave a small nod in understanding. Another voice shouted in greeting. It was Isabelle and Alec. The two walked over to the group. Isabelle gave a flirty smile to Dean, and a somewhat chillier one to Jo. Alec looked puzzled and somewhat annoyed at the crowd. Another round of introductions went around.

"You brought the mundane?" he asked Clary, gesturing at Simon.

"I feel so welcomed." Simon replied.

It was silent briefly, with the group staring at one another. Isabelle seemed to be sizing Jo up and the blonde woman calmly stared back. Alec was stealing glances between everyone, looking wary. Simon looked worriedly between the two women and the men that flanked her. Clary resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Well whatever." said Dean. "Let's get the show on the road."

Spell broken, Clary led the way to Magnus's apartment. She moved aside to let Alec open the door, looking very discreet when he flashed the silvered key. It barely went into the lock when the door was pulled wide open. Clary was used to seeing Magnus, but on fresh eyes, he was a sight to see.

His jet black hair was spiked, braided, and dyed in every color imaginable. His ears glimmered with silver and gold hoops. Rings shimmered on slim fingers, and matched the color of some of his bracelets. His purple eye shadow was thick and brought out the gold-green of his eyes. He had kohl lines that were bold, and competed with slightly rouged lips. He wore a silver mesh shirt that exposed his navel-less midriff, and he wore black leather trousers that were tightened by a sparkling flamingo pink belt. Over that he wore a kimono-esque robe that was red, gold, and green. It depicted battling dragons.

Clary turned to see the shocked expressions on the faces of the three hunters. She wasn't surprised. It almost made her smile. She began to introduce him.

"This is-"

"The artist formally known as Prince?" suggested Dean in a strangled voice. Clary realized he was trying not to laugh.

"Oh I'm much more fabulous." Magnus countered. He turned to Clary. "I can introduce myself." He smiled at the hunters. "I am Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn."

He led them imperiously into the apartment. In the high space, she heard Sam ask something.

"Are all warlocks like that?"

Alec answered, seemingly searching for a response. "Magnus is Magnus."

"Just be thankful he's not wearing tassels. Or a pompadour." Simon mumbled.

The loft space looked cleaner than usual, the sheets and curtains still contrasted with each other. Without a large party the place looked smaller than usual, like glimpsing a nightclub before it opened. The only thing that made any noise was a television that flickered. The only odd thing about that was that it was obviously unplugged. Odder still were the people who were watching it. It was Jace and Cas. Both were next to one another on the couch.

Clary had the sudden urge to sketch them. They were a study in contrasts. Jace, full of white gold, was sprawled on the sofa like a wounded lion. Cas was sitting ramrod straight, still wearing his trench coat. He resembled a blackbird sentry. Both stared unmovingly at the TV.

"The zombie marathon is already over." Jace called. "You didn't give us anything to eat, which is disappointing, because splattered guts make me hungry."

At his voice, Clary's insides flip flopped, her face flamed tortuously, and she worried at the barely concealed anguish in his voice. His back was to them all, and she could see the tension in his shoulders, and it was as easy to read as his darkened tone of voice.

"Actually, an omelet can fix that right up." Dean answered.

Jace jumped, and a small part of Clary was glad that his grimness had been broken. Jace swiveled around to regard them. His gold eyes widened with unguarded surprise, taking in people who just walked in. Clary felt her heart speed up when his gaze rested on her, and didn't slow down even when his expression became closed. She realized that she was still holding hands with Simon. Jace turned back to Dean.

"Just can't stay away can you?"

Dean half shrugged. "Guess not."

"You brought a bunch of mundanes with you?" Jace asked of no one in particular.

Said mundanes looked at him in irritation. He seemed to realize this, but didn't seem particularly sorry, even when he shrugged at the silence that greeted him. Simon glanced at the television, and began to speak.

"What are you watching?"

"What not to Wear." Cas spoke up, gravel voice filled with confusion. "I don't understand why this woman wants to throw away strangers' clothes."

"No one does." Simon answered.

Jace gestured to something on the screen. "You have to admit, anyone who wears high-waist khaki pants should be shot."

"What I don't understand is why we're talking about this." Magnus replied.

"Or why Cas is here." Dean said, mostly to himself.

"He is here because I invited him to stay after last night." Magnus called. He turned his cat eyes to Jace. "We can debate high fashion later."

Isabelle yanked both Jace and Cas off the sofa. "Clary wanted us to get to together, so let's do it."

With a wave of his hand, Magnus moved the sofa and replaced the television with a table and chairs. He scooted them together, and then conjured up steaming cups of coffee. Dean looked surprised, but appreciative and Jo was already finding a seat.

"Wish witches did something this helpful." Sam said.

"Aren't witches different from warlocks? Pretty sure." Simon asked.

"Witches don't exist." Alec corrected.

None of them were going to press the point. They all sat down, and looked at one another. It was a little awkward, but a few people sipped their coffee in the silence.

"So…" Dean ventured. "Cas told us that a faerie got killed and a sword got stolen."

Jace's eyes darkened, and he nodded grimly. "Valentine."

"Who?" Jo asked.

"Pretty much the Darth Vader of the Shadowhunters." Simon supplied.

Jace grimaced. "Valentine." He sounded as if his mouth was full of poison. "What a guy."

Alec seemed perturbed by Jace's expression and continued in place of him. "We think he is the one who murdered the faerie boy in Central Park."

Jo seemed as though she wanted to say something, but she kept quiet and waited for Alec to finish.

"Its' body was drained of blood and left in the middle of a jogging path. Its death was the same as a warlock boy who died just days before."

"Why?" Sam asked. "What, is he working some kind of spell?"

Magnus nodded, walking over to his bookshelf. "Clever little mundane." He flipped through the pages of a book and finding the one he was looking for, strode back and thumped it onto the table. "There. The Infernal Conversion Ritual."

Everyone leaned forward, some nearly knocked heads together. The page showed an illustration of a sword, its hilt in the shape of outstretched wings. Cas sucked in a breath. He looked like he was reading the text, which was surprising to Clary because it was a scrawling script that she knew was the warlock language.

"That is troubling." his voice very grave.

"What?" someone asked.

"The Ritual is very specific." Magnus explained. "It requires the blood of four Downworlder children. One for each different race. The blade has to be heated and then soaked in blood, then cooled, and the process repeated. This is to change the sword's allegiance from angelic to demonic in nature."

"And he is already halfway through." Clary whispered in horror. "All he needs now is the blood of a vampire and a werewolf."

"Is there any way to know who he'll target?" Sam asked. "Anyone he'd have a grudge against?"

Alec shrugged. "It seems to be at random. The warlock was someone he paid for, and faeries are easy to spot if you know what you're looking for." He frowned. "Basically anyone under eighteen is in danger."

"Nice." Dean replied. "How'd he even get his hands on this thing?"

Alec was about to reply, but his phone suddenly rang. He stood up to answer it. He spoke softly as Isabelle answered Dean's question.

"We think he also killed the faerie child as a way to distract everyone while he grabbed the sword. When we went in to bust out Jace, it was already gone."

"Probably also helped by the fact that someone was with him when he did it. Bastard practically waved it in my face in glee. As good as a-"

"Wait what?!" Clary yelled.

Alec looked back, startled. She gave him an apologetic smile, and he turned back to his conversation. Everyone else however, was staring at Jace. Isabelle in particular was giving him a fierce scolding glare. She looked like a rabid she-bear.

"Jace." she growled. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"What'd they look like?" Clary asked.

Jace regarded each angry girl; he seemed to be holding back a smile at that, but sobered when he answered each one. "Because you didn't ask." His eyes turned inward, as if seeing something no one else could see or go. "As for what that person looked like, I honestly couldn't say. Only one thing stood out, and it seems a little…" he shook himself.

"Their eyes. They were jet black."

Clary watched Sam, Dean, Jo, and Cas stiffen and fix Jace with serious expressions. Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Jo cricked her neck in agitation. Cas managed to look even grimmer than before. Clary felt a sudden insight that they knew something that everyone else did not. Even Jace looked abashed by the scrutiny. Clary could see Simon rub his arms, as if keeping a chill away.

"Can you see if you can describe the person? Anything at all-" Sam hurriedly asked.

As Jace answered, Jo finally spoke up and her question seemed to be open for anyone to answer.

"Will the faerie murder make it difficult to contact the other faeries?"

Isabelle blinked in surprise. "Actually, we'll have to talk to them to keep the peace. That's what mom said anyway."

Jo pressed on. "I ask because I was hoping that you guys would know a way into Faerieland." she clarified when she saw Isabelle's look. "It's for a job. I wouldn't ask otherwise."

Before Isabelle could respond, Alec came back and sat down.

"That was mom. She just got word from the Seelie Queen. She wants to talk to us about the murder. Mom said she was pretty adamant about it."

"Oh well isn't this just your lucky day." Isabelle spoke dryly to Jo.

Alec looked between them. "Hmm? What'd I miss?"

"Just idiocy." Magnus assured him with a wave of his hand.

"These guys want to go into Faerieland." Isabelle put an ironic singsong voice on the word 'Faerieland'.

Alec looked at Jo, his expression was not unfriendly. "It isn't a very good idea. Hunters or not, the fey don't look kindly on mortals."

Jo gave him a look. "How about you guys? You're like cops right? Last time I checked, no one likes cops."

Isabelle looked considering. "Well, we could ask…"

"Well, as I was trying to tell you before I was interrupted." he gave the girls a reproving glare. "Mom said that the Seelie Queen wanted to speak to us. Us in particular."

"I'll go." Clary spoke up, hearing their conversation.

"No!" Jace shouted. "I'm Valentine's son. I imagine that's what got her interest." he glowered.

"But." Clary started. "Your under house arrest, you can't go. So I'll take your place. I'm Valentine's daughter, so that's just what the Queen will have to settle for."

Jace looked ready to protest, his face turning pale with anger. Alec held up his hands peaceably, and Isabelle gave him a knowing look.

"It wouldn't be a good idea to refuse." she told Jace. "We'll be there to look after her."

"No." Jace's voice was stretched tight. "You will not take my sister to the Seelie Court without me. That is final."

"We can take care of her." Alec enunciated carefully.

He seemed to be having a battle of wills with Jace just by his eyes alone. Gold and blue clashed violently.

Isabelle turned to Jo and the other hunters. "If you absolutely insist on doing this, we can't guarantee your safety."

"That's ok, but thank you." Sam smiled. "We'll be careful."

"You-" Dean looked at Sam, about to say more but Jo cut him off.

"Since Dean insists on going, Sam and I aren't gonna let him go into a place like that by himself. I doubt Cas will either."

Cas nodded once. "Jo is right. If you cannot guarantee their safety, then I will."

What?!" Jace looked at them with undisguised shock. "Stupid mundanes, do you have any idea what you're doing?!" Before they could make any protest, Jace continued. "No, of course you don't. The Fair Folk have no love for mortals, other than stringing them up for their own up amusements. Mortality is just a joke to them, and they love to play games. They could enchant you to dance till you die, pull out your eyes just to get a better look at what color they are, or give you something so sweet to drink that you'll drink until you get sick, and you'll be more than happy to drink your own sick just to keep them smiling." He looked at them with disgust. "And you wanna go inside for a chat."

Clary looked at him in horror. "Christ, Jace-"

Surprisingly it was Simon who spoke next. "Well, they are hunters, I'm sure they know what they're doing. Besides, when we went to the hotel, we did okay-"

Jace cut him off. "Okay?!" he looked even more disgusted. "If by okay then you mean we barely made it out alive-"

Dean held up his hand. Clary noted the tenseness in his frame. Jace swore, and cut off his diatribe.

"Sounds like Alistair takin' a nap." Dean muttered. Clary wasn't sure if anyone other than herself and Sam heard him.

Dean looked up to regard them all. Clary shivered; his eyes reminded her of Renwick's. They were looking in on something deep, dirty, and horrifying. She was briefly reminded of Jace in their bleakness, but it was more than that. He was looking at himself and remembering, living something over again. It was never-ending blackness, and something more twisted than despair. It was horrible, but it seemed to hypnotize everyone. She felt herself go pale. He opened his mouth, and Clary was afraid of whatever terrible thing was going to come out of it. He started speaking.

"Believe me when I say this: I've been to worse places. Where I've gone makes Faerieland look like another theme park from Disney World. I've seen and done-"

He said 'done' as though he was spitting out burning metal.

"-Things that'll make you piss out of your ears."

Clary believed him. She couldn't bring herself to break the silence, especially since Sam was looking at his brother with a deeply saddened expression, and Cas and Jo seemed to have similar expressions, full of grief. It didn't matter-and it didn't matter that no one said anything because Dean started speaking again.

"So I'd appreciated if you didn't talk down to me. Especially since nobody here seems to have a drivers' license in between em'."

His voice got lighter at that, but it was still serious even if the horrible blackness had vanished back to whatever place it had been. It still had the same effect of being taken seriously. His three companions picked up on that, and relaxed. They regarded the Shadowhunters, and Jo stood straighter.

"I'm with him." she nodded her head at Dean. "About this mundane bullshit. Say what you want about us, but we've got experience and we won't put up with any crap."

She looked right at Jace and the Lightwoods. Sitting straight she suddenly looked defiant and calm. Clary didn't know how she managed both, but Jo wasn't afraid. There was something sad and serious in her face, but there was also fierceness. Clary felt a pang in chest. A kind of homesickness, like an unbidden memory. It took her a moment for her to realize that Jo looked a bit like Clary's mother, Jocelyn with that expression. It made Clary wonder if Jo resembled her own mother and that's where she got such a powerful expression.

This was followed by a shocked silence. Alec looked strangely wounded, and his sister's eyes were surprised and maybe something else. Simon was looking at the hunters with something akin to surprised awe, particularly in Jo's direction. It was tense, but a strange tenseness. It came not from life threatening creatures, or getting arrested, but having a serious social awkwardness that wouldn't be easily dismissed. This was unusual for both parties. No one spoke. Magnus looked in between Jace and Alec, wearing an inscrutable expression. He cleared his throat.

"I have a suggestion." He continued when it was clear no one was going to speak. He turned to Alec and Isabelle. "When your mother made that contract with me, I made a loophole. As long as Jace is under supervision with other Shadowhunters, he can go wherever he pleases. Especially since I'll know where he is. All he has to do is trade places with someone to take his place here."

"I'll do it." Alec volunteered, and then turned pink at his sister's stare. "Jace is right; the Queen probably does want to talk to him more than me."

Isabelle nodded in agreement, but her smile suggested a separate motive. "True." she surveyed the room. "Ok, so let's see who's going…just raise your hands or something." She counted. "Alright that's, Sam, Dean, Jo, Cas, Clary, Jace, Me, and…Simon?"

Clary tried not to show her surprise; after that little discussion, she didn't feel right telling him not to come along. He caught her eyes and smiled reassuringly. It didn't decrease the fluttering in her stomach. She'd worry no matter what, and she wanted to avoid Jace's waspish stare. Isabelle blinked.

"Wow, that's a lot of people. Alec, call up Mom and tell her we accept the Queen's offer." she watched Alec stand up and start dialing. "Now, I can get us into the entrance to the Seelie Court, but it only works at night. So that means we have quite a while to wait."

Sam exhaled deeply. "Well, if it's alright with Magnus, we'd like to stay here till' then. In fact, it looks like we might be seeing more of each other. Our job brought us back into town, chasing a lead and it looks like our case has somehow gotten tangled up with whatever is going on with you guys. So…can we do it? Can we work together if we have to?" Sam asked.

"Of course." Alec replied. "Sorry about earlier." he colored with embarrassment.

Sam shrugged. "We're cool."

This seemed to be the signal for relaxing and an unofficial way of dismissing their meeting. Chairs scraped, as people stood up and moved around. Only Cas remained sitting and he looked up at Magnus.

"I am eager to hear more about this Soul-Sword."

TMISPN

Magnus flashed a shiny smile. "Certainly."

They passed the hours by.

Dean, Sam, and Jo grabbed supplies from their trunk. Dean busied himself by cleaning the weapons. Jace feigned disinterest, but his gaze kept wandering and settling on Clary. Clary and Simon watched wide-eyed for a few minutes before Simon shyly asked Jo if she wanted to learn how to play a dice game. Sam busied himself looking at Magnus's library collection, and trying to translate what he could. Magnus was speaking to Alec and Cas, both blue eyed boys listening in obvious interest. Isabelle played with her hair for a bit before wandering over to Dean to compare weapons.

The time passed quicker than expected.

TMISPN

The Impala changed lanes to park into an empty space. They had gotten as close to Central Park as they could. As soon as Dean parked, everyone hurried to get out; it was cramped in the backseat. Dean was adamant about driving, since he didn't want his baby left alone for too long in such a big city.

Moonlight gleamed on the black metal as Dean and Sam began to pull weapons out of the hidden compartment. Jace, Isabelle, and Simon peered curiously inside when the two began gathering a few items together. Jo plucked out a messenger bag and slung it around her shoulder. Simon gaped at her. Dean caught their eyes and smiled.

"You can never be too careful."

Jace shrugged amiably. "True."

"Follow me." Isabelle said.

She strode along a path with ease, the route was obviously familiar to her. With her in the lead, she began to explain what she was calling 'rules'.

"First, don't eat or drink anything they offer you. Faerie food does weird things to people. Second, don't talk to anyone who isn't the Queen, or the person who will be escorting us to her. It is very easy to get enchanted. Okay, Faeries can't lie, but they can engage in some creative truth telling."

"You sure know a lot." Simon replied.

Surprisingly, Isabelle blushed but answered primly. "Of course I do. It's my job."

They came to a pond, a few benches were at the water's edge, but it was the pavilion that was on the other side and nearly resting in the water is what Isabelle seemed to be aiming at. She waded into the water; her skirt billowed out around her. It revealed her legs, flesh pale as moonstone except for the swirling black lines painted on them. Cas's eyes widened; he looked as if he was reading them. Clary watched him do it as he followed everyone in, his trench coat pulling him into the water.

Simon struggled to get a decent footing, shoes squelching. Jo offered her arm to steady him and he took it gratefully. Clary felt an uncomfortable squirm of jealousy; Jo could rival Isabelle in looks, and Clary assumed she probably could fight as well.

'This is why I don't have female friends. I really should calm down.'

Clary slipped in the mud, nearly toppling over herself. She was glad she didn't wear anything as nice as Isabelle had. Jace was quickly by her side, offering a Marked arm.

"No thanks." she righted herself as quickly as she could, face flushing.

Both of them caught Simon's pleased look when she refused and Jace scowled. Feeling irritated at both, Clary moved away and hastily followed Isabelle. Dean and Sam followed. Dean swore loudly, and Jo and Sam laughed.

Dean shot his brother a dirty look. "Easy for you sasquatch."

Isabelle gathered them all together, her arms outstretched.

"We have to stick together." She looked carefully at them all. "And work together. Seelie Court is dangerous." She fixed Clary with a reproachful look. "So control your boys. Don't give me that look. You need to show a bit of your natural authority. Guys always need to be kept on a tight leash."

Jo smiled. "Amen."

"Sexist." Dean countered.

"I agree." Jace replied. "My manly sensibilities are offended."

"Shut up." Clary grinned.

"Yes ma'am."

The mood was a bit better, and Isabelle pointed to the moon. It hung like pearl in the sky, looming impossibly huge.

"Now watch how I do it."

She moved forward. Sam stared carefully before looking back up at the moon; it illuminated his confusion perfectly.

"Wait, the moon always gets farther the closer you get to it."

Isabelle smiled. "That's a part of the magic."

She went into the moon's reflection that rested on the water. Moonlight shone down on her, and the water's surface. It lit her up, her hair turned silver, lighting each strand and her eyes even brighter, making them look like a pair of pearls. The water rippled around her, as if the bright orb in the sky was riling it up. Steam began to spiral up and Isabelle's skin gleamed with a moonshine fever. The swirling lines on her skin burned. She looked like some arcane goddess. Then-

She was gone, swallowed up. Jace followed. His golden white hair looked as though it were incased in ice and he winked one gold eye before sinking downwards. Clary waded quickly after, her hair shining like a brand of fire. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and Simon and Jo paddled forward. They looked like two opposing chess pieces when the lunar light hit them. Their grip tightened on each other as they both went down. Cas seemed to be weighed down by his clothes soaking the water. When he entered the circle, he looked every bit as lovely as Isabelle did, and his blue eyes blazed impossibly. He dunked under the water as if pushed, and he didn't even blink when he disappeared. Sam and Dean moved, and stepped into the circle. The water was still freezing, but the air itself seemed to ripple. Dean drew a shaky breath and smiled at Sam.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They held their breath, and suddenly it was as if a very large hand had shoved their heads under the water. It was pushing them until it was no longer a push, and they were falling.

They were back on solid ground. Dean toppled onto Sam and opened his eyes. They were underground. Surrounded by the rest of the group, it was the only reason the two allowed themselves to relax. Jo shot them a small smile as she rummaged through her bag, trying to salvage her things. Cas stood in between her and Isabelle. Water ran down him in rivets, getting caught in this coat and soaking him. Isabelle was shaking the water out of her hair. Simon blinked and shivered, he bent down searching the floor for his fallen glasses. Clary began to help him, and the two scrunched together as Jace stood beside them, wringing water from his shirt.

There was no faerie waiting for them, and the air was freezing. Strands of white hair-like string were prickling along the dark ceiling. Simon found his glasses and he looked up, squinting and adjusting them.

"Roots." he pointed upward. "We're underground."

"Very astute of you." Jace droned. His hair was pressed into a cap.

Dean looked around. "Ok, where's the escort?"

The eight of them stood pressed together. It was at the start of a tunnel, which stretched on for quite a while it seemed. It was dark, and the shivering was like a vibration, since everyone had press themselves together and each person was shaking. Waiting was becoming difficult.

"Whooo." Isabelle breathed. "Wasn't that a ride?"

"No." Cas replied. "A ride is a-"

"Not really." Jace interrupted. "Let's not do that again."

As soon as Jace said that, the outline of a figure was moving toward them. Isabelle recognized it, and she yelled cheerfully.

"Meliorn! Over here!" She waved her arms widely.

When the faerie got closer, a scowl could be seen. He had long hair that went down to his waist, fine like long summer grass and dark as mahogany wood. Course bark was covering a white tunic; it was armor and it glimmered in different colors when he moved. He nodded in greeting to Isabelle. She took that as a cue and embraced him.

"So that's how she knows so much about faeries." Dean whispered.

"Dean." Sam gave him a stern look.

Meliorn gazed at all the faces, looking as though he was measuring something. He first looked at the Shadowhunters and his gaze settled on Simon. The boy seemed to shrink back from the cool, alien gaze. He tried to push back his dark hair.

"A mundane?"

Clary bristled at Meliorn's tone. He would have been perfectly willing to leave Simon there.

"I had no such orders to bring you with me." He turned to regard the other four. "Nor you. I was not told of your coming."

"No." Sam replied. "But your Lady will want to see us."

Meliorn looked unamused. "Will she? My Lady is fickle, and her whims shift faster than the seasons."

Sam was undaunted. "Then this will be a very slight interruption. She might even get some amusement out of it."

"Not many mortals are willing to offer themselves up as toys." it was said with an air of mild clinical interest.

"Simon isn't a toy." Clary spoke up suddenly. "Neither are they."

Jace pointed to Simon. "He is under our protection. We owe him a debt, one of life-blood."

Simon looked back at Jace in surprise. His looked shifted into something thoughtful, as if reevaluating something.

"Very well." Meliorn turned to the other four. "Protection isn't guaranteed for your kin. You will be an added delight to the revels."

Cas stepped forward, suddenly looking fierce. "They have protection. Mine."

Meliorn's brows furrowed in confusion. "You are neither mundane, nor Nephilim."

Cas had a momentary look of confusion before it was replaced with something akin to anger. "Correct."

Dean turned to look at Cas, surprised to seeing such an unexpected reaction on Cas's face. "So, we're not your average mundanes." Dean told Meliorn. "Take us to see your Queen."

Meliorn gave them another sweeping look before leading them forward without another word. Isabelle hurried to catch up to him, bubbly voice echoing as they turned into a larger hallway. The underground tunnel widened and echoes bounced against each other like pebbles. Simon was sandwiched between Clary and Jo, his questions to the female hunter could be heard by Sam and Dean, who were behind them. Jace was being buffeted between the groups, keeping his eyes trained on Clary.

"He's protective." Dean whispered to Sam.

"Yeah. Wonder who that reminds me of…?" Sam whispered back, rolling his eyes.

Cas brought up the rear, shoes nipping the brothers' heels. Isabelle suddenly laughed out loud, and when she spoke next, her voice was a crystal bell.

"Because that's my motto: Nothing less than seven inches!"

Dean leaned into Sam again, this time by accident. When he straightened up, Sam could see he was shaking with suppressed laughter. He opened his mouth several times, trying to make a joke, but every time he just collapsed into silent laughter. His voice was congested with amusement.

"It's good you know that about yourself!" he finally called.

She looked back at him, surprised before giving him a sly grin.

"Isn't it? My options are wider that way!" she called back.

Sam shook his head. "Real mature."

Dean was about to reply.

"No."

This didn't stop Dean, he looked back at Sam, eyes full of mirth. "You aren't going to tell me not to confuse reality with porn?"

Sam elbowed him sharply, finally smiling at Dean's loud exclamation of pain. "No."

Meliorn led them down a wide corner and the sound of music wafted up, along with the scents of summer. They entered a large room, so vast that it seemed to be the outdoors. Faeries were dancing in the center of what served to be a ballroom. They swayed and swirled to a heady tune. The notes went high and held, wavering until they suddenly plunged and became frantic. It was a melody's equivalent of a roller coaster. It was jarring and invasive at first, but when the ears adjusted it was strangely pleasant.

Dean watched as Clary looked at the faeries with wide eyes. She seemed dazed, her feet picking up of their own accord, almost imitating a ballet step. Isabelle took one look at all the dancing fey and made a grab for Simon. She stumbled back from Meliorn, not as graceful in her heels. She motioned for Jace and he went to her. They were the only ones in motion.

A dancing fey with lilac skin and membranous wings brushed past Sam. He craned his neck to see the rest of her, almost against his will. They were not beautiful, they didn't look human enough to pass for beauty, at least to mortal eyes-but they were graceful and timeless. Eyes of all shapes, sizes, and colors looked on the group with undisguised fascination. A short furred man pointed a gnarled finger at them, and a woman with scales laughed.

Jace hurriedly pushed Jo, his hands trying to untangle themselves from her messenger bag. A faerie with some kind of tail had gotten close to her and small darting sprites were tugging at her hair. Cas suddenly grabbed for Clary and she blinked rapidly, as if water had splashed into her face. She stared at the mingling creatures with something like awestruck horror. She made a frantic gimme motion to Sam, who was studying a piece of fruit. She reached up on her tiptoes, practically pulling herself up to reach his face. She whispered something to him. Sam looked back at what he was holding. It could have been a peach, or an apple but the color was a pale white, its dark pit visible beneath the skin. He threw the fruit, and a troll creature caught it, giving Sam a wicked grin as he bit into the fruit, and raised it in thanks.

Isabelle yanked off Cas's tie and roped it around Simon's eyes. He made a noise of protest and tried to remove the blind, but Isabelle slapped his hands away. Cas's hands shot forward, gripping Dean's shoulders in a vice-like clamp. His hand seemed to burn through the fabric, touching the welt on Dean's arm. Dean gasped at the sudden sensation. He turned to Cas.

"What's your problem?" His voice as slurred as if he drank an entire bottle of whiskey.

Cas gripped his arm tighter, and clarity snapped back like a rubber band. Dean sharply took a step back, bumping into Cas. He was looking at the fey with something like shock. It was like stepping into a dark room, with soft comfortable looking shadows that blunted perception, before the light switched on, giving sharp brightness that didn't let anything escape. Suddenly said room revealed something horrifying inside of it.

The fey had crazed looking faces, fingers with too many or too little joints. They moved as if gravity couldn't touch them; their otherworldliness so prominent that it became invasive. Loveliness that had warped and Dean so strongly reminded of demons that he began to draw his gun. He flinched when Sam's hand came down on it. He looked back into Sam's face. It was bleached of color, and he looked just as Dean felt.

"No, let's just go."

"Yes."

Cas's graveled voice was strained with anger. Dean turned in surprise. He hadn't heard him sound like unless there was something big. He was actually shaking with anger and his eyes were wide with aggression. For the angel to be showing this extreme of emotion, meant something was going on. He was staring at the gathering of fey with mistrust and something else. Not quite rage but sharper than disgust, and tenser than fear. Almost instinctual. For the first time in a long time, Dean was nervous of Cas.

"C'mon." Jace suddenly rasped.

"I don't understand." Cas suddenly spoke in frustration. He seemed to have said it to himself.

Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks as they followed Jace and the rest of the group. They stumbled along, more raggedly then when they first entered. Meliorn remained impassive as they moved down into another chamber. This one had a curtain draped in the entryway; it was made from some kind of leaves, looking as soft as cotton. Something glittered on it, and looking close it was water droplets woven so tightly into the plant that they maintained their shape.

"Wait here for a moment." Meliorn intoned.

He pulled back the curtain and slipped inside. He returned a few minutes later.

"You may enter."

He drew the curtain back all the way, letting them enter. The glassy water drops brushed against Clary's face. Once they were all inside, Meliorn followed them in; he silently glided into a corner, his face stiff and impassive, and a weapon was now at his waist.

There in the center of the room, sat the Faerie Queen. There was a distinct difference between her and her subjects. She was beautiful. Unlike the rest of the fey, who made beauty and hideousness blur together into some kind of unearthly confusion, she was undoubtedly beautiful. She was almost painful to look at. Her hair was copper red, true copper red; the color of dried blood. It was long and lavish, pinned up with a spray of flowers and shells. Her eyes were a blue that rivaled Cas's, but were much paler, like preserved ice. She looked completely human, statuesque in height and curved generously. With her pale smooth skin, she looked like an artists' statue come to life. She was painful to look at.

She smiled at them all, and it was the loveliest smile that had existed. It was one that knew many things, enigmatic and proud. Her glance was casual, but she had the air of a creature ready to pounce onto something juicy, all the while keeping that smile on her face.

Dean shivered. She was Alistair in a woman's body. She could do cruel things to you, make you do cruel things, and no matter what happened, you still wanted to see that smile. He turned his gaze away from her. She was reclining on a pile of cushions, surrounded by courtiers, and they looked on with undisguised fascination. It looked like a gypsies' cavern, complete with fairy tale monsters. The Queen gazed at them all, and she made a few slender motions with delicately hennaed hands. A small fey covered entirely with fur quickly produced a tray with several goblets on it.

"Welcome to my court."

Jace stepped forward, and his back stood at attention. His gold eyes were politely appraising. He was the group's spokesperson now.

"We thank you for your generousness, My Lady."

His tone was smooth and soft. He dropped all sarcasm, and he let his gaze transform into a polite and conversational mask. Clary was reminded of Valentine, albeit gentler and devoid of pride. Sam looked on in interest.

"Sit down." her plump lips quirked upward. "We'll carry on with civility."

Jace led them down onto the softened grass, which released a sweet scent when they sat down. It mingled with the hazy, heady summertime air. Even though it was fall elsewhere, it would be eternally warm here, frozen forever to be summer. The goblets were passed out to them. Sam gave Dean a brief warning look before letting his own cup rest in his lap. Cas stared at the smooth rim as it might come alive and bite him. When Clary and Jo sat down, the sprites alighted to them, trying to pluck strands of their hair. Clary looked at her cup; flower petals were floating on the surface of the liquid. Clary picked one of the petals and studied it. It was pink but had reddened from the stain of the drink. Simon shot her a warning look as she crushed the petal between her fingers, releasing its scent and staining her skin. The drink sloshed the rim. She couldn't tell what color it was from the inside of the cup, and she had a sudden flash of memory; her mother once talked to her about 'stranger danger' and safe parties. The conversation had been so long ago that she had nearly forgotten it, but now as it came unbidden she was abruptly paralyzed by sadness.

Jo made a tiny mewl of alarm. Sprites had crawled inside her bag, making it move as if alive. Clary set down her cup and began to help, and they plunged their hands inside feeling for the tiny creatures. A nip of pain made Clary wince as one of them bit her finger. She grabbed little thing, enclosing her hand around it like a cage. She pulled one out. Jo was also cradling one; she uncupped her hands and inspected it. The sprites chittered before fluttering underneath tasseled cushions. Jo looked inside her bag for more as Clary sucked away the blood from her bitten finger.

"Forgive me for rambling my lady." Jace began. "The Fair Folk are indeed fair. I'm ashamed to admit that your beauty has taken me by surprise. But since you cannot tell untruths, I shall do the same."

'So that's how he does it.' Sam thought, mentally taking note.

The Queen undulated, the muscles in her legs flexed beneath her elaborate dress. She didn't bother to adjust it, letting her legs dangle with a deceiving carelessness. She looked as though she planned on devouring Jace.

"As pretty with words as you are in face and you are as charming as the name you bear. It seems the Clave knows my weakness; how clever they are to send you."

"Nothing clever about it My Lady. I simply go where I am sent."

The Queen shrugged elegantly. "Very well. Some say modesty is its own reward." She regarded the other four. "Meliorn tells me that you claim that you are no ordinary mundanes, and I must agree."

Her words surprised all those who surrounded her. She began to study them intently, Cas in particular.

"I have never seen mundanes keep such esteemed company." she pitched her voice to call attention her gathering. "Truly, this is something to regard. You may never lay eyes on it again. We are in the presence of an angel."

The crowd rippled and inched forward. Cas was already on edge, and there was something about his gaze that stopped the courtiers from getting too close. That didn't stop them from staring at him; as though he was an exotic creature that had been captured for their amusement. They squirmed in their places, as if wanting to touch him and a few licked their lips. Some glanced back at their Queen, who was also staring.

Dean didn't like their eagerness, and something about their quick movements was setting off his radar. They had the movements of intelligent predators and the seemingly casual attitude of sociopaths. He felt the reassuring weight of his gun, and the holy water in his jacket pocket. Sam had salt and the knife. Both of them had iron. Dean moved forward on instinct, partly blocking Cas from the fey that were staring at them. The Queen could have her subjects attack them with just a word. She was watching them, drinking in their actions. Dean knew he had just given her a valuable piece of information.

The Queen licked her lips. "With such a fierce stare it is easy to believe that you are a messenger of Heaven." she looked from Cas to Dean, and then back to Cas. "Your companion is so protective. Tell me, are you in his debt?"

The courtiers hovered, trembling for a response. Even the Shadowhunters looked curious. Sam was looking back and forth. Dean wasn't looking at Cas, but was still trying to gauge the danger. His shoulders showed that he was listening and awaiting the answer. For some reason it seemed important. Cas was looking downward, his eyelashes likened at half mast, partially concealing his eyes. He seemed to be truly considering the question, and he looked up at the same moment that Dean turned around to look at him. Almost as if he sensed that Cas was about to answer. When Cas looked at the Queen, his eyes were wide and bright.

"Yes."

The Queen practically purred. Whether it was at the unconcealed stunned expressions on Sam and Dean's faces, or the answer in general, it wasn't clear. She sighed wistfully at them, as if she wasn't yet able to eat a much desired piece of cake.

"My apologies, I must turn my attentions elsewhere, diverting as they may be. The Clave can be quite unforgiving and I must give them due. The Nephilim are not the most patient of people, so I must attend to them first. It will also give my anticipation of our talk much greater joy."

"Take your time." Sam replied, a little breathlessly.

The Queen stared at Jace. "We have much to discuss. Say your piece."

"Thank you, Lady. We know you wish to discuss the events of last night. So do we."

The Queen nodded. Even though she hadn't shifted her position, her tone became more businesslike.

"We know who it was that killed the fey child."

"Was it one of the Vampires? Have you brought forward an individual? Law states you must hand it over, as it is our right to dispatch justice."

"It was not. It was Valentine. The blood wasn't drained for nourishment, but for a ritual."

The Queen looked surprised. "A ritual?"

"Yes and more blood will be needed."

"More children of the folk will be slaughtered?" now she looked interested.

"No, but the bloodshed will continue, not only for Shadowhunters but Downworlders as well."

"I see." If Jace were a ball, she would have dropped him.

"My Lady?" Jace's tone was incredulous and he paused to modulate his tone before speaking again. "Valentine is a threat to all, and he endeavors to succeed. To prevent this tragedy-"

"A tragedy only for your people." The Queen interrupted.

When Jace spoke again, a tone of warning crept through. "My Lady, I could compel you for assistance."

Her eyes flashed. "I'm sure you could 'compel my assistance'" her voice was honey covered acid. "You Shadowhunters consider it your mandate to protect through servitude. However I must remind you, that servitude did not come from a pleasurable loyalty. There are many who chafe at the bit and bridle. Duress has been the way of our relationship for many a year."

Jace recited something in a different language, and Sam realized it was Latin.

"The Law is hard, but it is the Law."

"Ah yes." The Queen breathed. "The creed of the Shadowhunters. The affirmation is gratifying to hear." her tone had a mocking ring.

Jace clenched his teeth. "Yes it is. So if Valentine does manage to succeed, he will destroy Downworld. If that does happen, remember that it was a Shadowhunter that tried to warn you, protect you."

"My, what chivalry, managing to bring grim tidings with such words." her voice lost all its amusement.

"Regrettably." Jace didn't sound regretful at all.

"My gratitude for such a thoughtful envoy."

The Queen turned away from the group, but didn't dismiss them. Jace remained seated and the others followed suit. Her gaze rested on the second quartet. She made a pout; it would be flirty if it wasn't shadowed by her mirth.

"I do hope you have brought sweet tidings…?" her eyelashes fluttered sleepily.

Sam looked slightly dazed, his mouth looked as plump as the Queen's, and he swayed. Cas lightly gripped his shoulder, and he jumped in surprise. He flushed with embarrassment, and briefly met the Queen's eyes.

"I'm not sure if you will consider this either good or bad news, but…" he hesitated. " You have something that we want." he flushed deeper at the implication and he glanced at his brother for help.

Like Sam, Dean couldn't look at The Queen for very long, but he finished Sam's sentence.

"A weapon." he paused. "Crowley sent us."

There was a perceptible change. The Queen's gaze became measured and cunning. She shifted; the movement was the sinuous rippling of a snake. She scooted forward, eyes burning. The sweetness was replaced with calm; she was still a panther, but it was more obvious than before.

The teenagers were staring avidly. Simon was about to say something, but Isabelle shushed him, her eyes wide and her expression matched Jace's. Here were mundanes taking them by surprise; a mystery had appeared out of the fog. Clary leaned forward.

"My my." her eyes held calculation like a sword. "You know of my arrangement with Crowley." she made it a statement.

Dean knew this was a tactic for getting information, to get some kind of edge back. So Crowley had something on her, or over her maybe. The way she said it, implied that she thought if she said it in a congratulatory manner, as if she was impressed by them, they'd give her details. She thought they knew him well enough to use them to get to him. Dean just hoped that she couldn't see past his bluff.

"Yes."

He kept his voice firm and plain. If she called his bluff and realized that he knew nothing of said arrangement, she might find some kind of hole to wriggle through and not give them the weapon, or screw them over. Or both.

"Such a forceful request."

She was fishing, and with her eyes glimmering, Dean thought she could see thorough it, but she was wriggling. It was a trap. Dean remembered Crowley's words. He let a smile play on his face, a knowing one. Implying that even if he didn't know the details, he knew enough.

"That's Crowley for you. I know you'll happily hand it over to us." he kept his tone firm, but light.

She knew a threat when she heard it. Sam helped by nodding along with Dean's words. He didn't have his puppy dog eyes on, but something a bit darker. It was an earnest face nonetheless and she gazed at it briefly.

The Queen shrugged again. "True enough."

She pierced them with a look. She saw through them, but didn't see the trouble of fighting it. It made Dean curious as to what she had worked out with Crowley, but some things are just best left alone. Her look said:

"You're lucky I'm in a generous mood."

The Queen turned to Meliorn. "Bring it forward." she commanded. She looked at Dean again. "I seem to have shed a burden of sorts. Perhaps I should give my thanks to Crowley." she mused.

"We'll let him know what happened here." Sam assured.

The Queen looked wryly amused. "So kindly a threat." she purred. "My thanks."

Meliorn, who didn't look pleased at his lady's instructions, had now returned. He was carrying a large bundle of cloth as though it was a live bomb. He had paled, looking ready to drop it and return to the corner he reluctantly left. Setting it delicately onto the ground, had had kept it tightly bundled. It lay at her feet like some live thing that feigned innocence. The blood red cloth was delicately patterned with moving butterflies in colors of gold and burgundy. The Queen put on bare foot on the bundle; Meliorn went even paler at that, slim fingers twitching for his weapon.

Dean made a move to take the bundle, the Queen moved it away from him with her foot; her ankle bracelets jangled at the motion. Her nails stood out against brightly colored against the cloth; they matched. The polish on the nails looked like droplets of blood on her feet.

Dean grimaced; of course. As soon as you put your foot onto home plate, she would yank it out from under you. She gave Dean a playful smile; she relished his anger more than Sam's alarm. This was one last game to play. A final parting gift in the form of one-upmanship. If it had been anyone else, Dean would have been inclined to play.

"A trade." she hungrily drank in their expressions.

"I suppose Crowley wouldn't mind." he growled.

She didn't seem afraid; it was a halfhearted threat, and even if it weren't she was getting back at the silver-tongued demon in some way. Dean made a face.

"Dunno what we have that you'd be interested in."

The Queen giggled the sound floating high into the air and suddenly Dean had the feeling that they did have something.

"Oh come now. Be sporting."

She met Cas's eyes. He glared back. She shivered, as if she enjoyed fear, even if it was her own. Her fingers fluttered, swift and soft as a hummingbirds'. Cas tilted his head away from her hands. His eyes flashed with something other than anger, not attraction or shame, but something Dean wasn't able to identify.

"You seem immune to my charms. That could prove to be…would you be averse to staying here?"

"Very." he spat.

She appeared unruffled by the venomous response. "It seems to my eyes to be a fair trade."

"You need your eyes checked." Dean snapped. "You can't have him-"

"Let him decide." Sam interrupted. He ignored Dean's shocked look. "You want something from him right? Well than he has the right to decide what to give you." Sam gave the Queen a look of disgust.

The Queen pouted, but she turned to Cas expectantly.

"I am fascinated. The Fair Folk share an ancestry with the Shadowhunters, a curiosity to be sure. You however, have a home among the stars. This intrigues me. Perhaps you can tell us who spawned our race, or spin a tale on the exploits of your kin. Perhaps you kept the company of Raziel?"

Cas looked confused and he shook his head. He seemed to be searching for something. The Queen eyed him carefully.

"I have heard tales. It has been said that to drink angels' blood will bring happiness…"

Sam looked positively alarmed, and it rivaled with angered disgust. He may have suggested Cas to give the Queen whatever he wanted, but now it was Dean holding Sam back. Dean's eyes were narrowed, but he had said nothing.

She continued. "It has also said that it is one of the most potent substances this world has to offer."

"That would be ill advised." Cas managed to look reproachful. "You seem to want something. I have a suggestion, and I'm afraid that this will have to satisfy you." he paused. "I know how to sing and there is one song that you would enjoy. Only one, and then we trade."

The Queen seemed satisfied with this and she nodded her head, indicating for him to continue.

"I was fortunate to have learned this. An old friend taught me." A spasm of sorrow passed over his face like a cloud. He closed his eyes.

He began to sing. It began as a low hum, starting from the ground up. Rising in pitch, it was still slow; it was a mournful song. Cas opened his mouth wider, and his voice was deep, not a baritone, but it was rich and harmonious. At first it was just pure sound, but then words began to slip in, swimming into the stream of melody. The words were in a language no one understood, but it was smooth and flawless.

His voice had breathiness to it as he added layers of fluttering hope to the sad tone. It was a bittersweet song that was telling of happiness, memories of gentler time. A sharp note of something joyous with a tang of pain. It was not unlike a faerie song, but it tenuously rose up and down, like a baby bird's first flight. Something about its purity made it all the more poignant.

Cas's eyes were still closed, and now his hands were moving of their own accord; he didn't seem to be aware of their motions. They punctuated notes as his fingers flexed, and they accentuated the rest of the song, telling the rest of the story.

He bowed it down low, letting regret fill it to the brim and his voice went into a pitch so deep, his throat vibrated. The words stopped, it was just noise. It undulated like waves, letting glimpses of something forbidden be seen. It was temptation in the form of a shimmering shell. Then his voice became the equivalent of an acoustic guitar, and a fearful dash of a violin's bow would streak though, like lightening in the sky.

His lips puckered-a perfect bow, and they formed words. A kind of chant at first, wrapping itself around the words and let them spin around his tongue and blow out. He was kissing the notes, making a goodbye as he left the regret behind. There was a rising; it was gaining speed and power. It was warbling with incandescent determination. They were marching up the hill, dropping pieces of doubt onto the ground. It wasn't exactly sad, but gave the impression of gritting one's teeth, of swallowing sobs-

And then it was soaring; his words had wings and they were rising up to the ceiling, high notes hitting the air, igniting it. His fists clenched as he reached the crescendo. The words slipped away, as if being pulled back by gravity and the verses gave way to unadulterated sound.

It was at the peak, the high point of the roller coaster. Looking down at the precipice, seeing everything laid out below, but not able to understand it all. That didn't matter. His voice went higher and higher, a winding soprano that that pierced the crux. It was pure love. Love of the good and the bad, unafraid to feel pain as if his tenor was a sword. He held it, letting it become torturous as he dangled over the edge.

A sunrise blazed up just he took the plunge. His voice didn't simply lower but swept itself around, becoming frantic; almost like a chant as the words came back, still shortened. It slowed down and the words lengthened and rippled, giving one last throwing refrain of glory.

It became a haunting hymn of words, as if speaking to an old friend. It was a velvet embrace; it wanted to crush, never let go, but kept it gentle. It was a note goodbye, of remembrance. The small word was spoken clearly, ringing like the last words in a book before finally fading away like the morning mist.

The song ended. Cas's eyes fluttered open, as though he was struggling to wake up from some deep enchanted sleep. He didn't slump to the ground but there was certain tiredness in his posture, as if spent. Cas's breath was coming out in flutters, cheeks and lips pink. It somehow made him look very young.

Without a word the Queen nudged to bundle with her foot. Her eyes were wet pools. Sam darted forward to retrieve the thick cloth as the Queen grabbed a goblet and drained it in a single swallow. Her composure was much better than that of her courtiers, some of whom were openly weeping. They appeared to be too stunned to applaud, but clutched at their chests or to those who were next to them.

The group wasn't much better it seemed. Dean was staring at Cas as if he had never seen him before, but he didn't utter a single word. Sam nudged Dean, staring at Cas with incredulous eyes, but there was a congratulatory smile of amusement. Dean didn't move even when Sam tried to get his attention. Jo had clasped her hands over her mouth, but there was a smile hidden beneath. Her eyes were wide with shock, and looked suspiciously bright. She took a shuddery breath. Simon stared unabashedly, openmouthed, the tie long taken off. Isabelle had scooted closer to him and was looking close to speaking. Jace was staring with something that wasn't necessarily shock, but that he had been absorbed into the song and had just woken up. He had scooted closer to Clary, their fingers nearly touching. Clary seemed to be in a similar bind as Jace, and she was blinking rapidly, as if moved.

Hands were unraveling the cloth as no one spoke. No one knew how to break the spell, and the silence was becoming eerie. A sudden, simple cocking click made everyone jump. The courtiers gasped, and all their frivolity and theatrics returned as if given back to them. The layers of vibrant fabric were lying in a discarded pile on the ground.

Dean held the colt in his hands. His clear green eyes inspected it, fingering the cold metal with expert hands. He was giving it an appraisal. Giving it the once over, he raised it in the air; the inscription blazed like fire on its barrel. Dean mock aimed it at a tree, putting his finger on the trigger.

"Bang." he mouthed.

"'I shall fear no evil'" Jace suddenly recited, nodding at the Latin. "Cute piece." that seemed to be said for both Dean and Cas.

"Ain't it?" Dean gave him a feral grin that matched Jace's.

The Queen eyed the weapon with a chilly distaste, and she impatiently motioned for quiet from her subjects.

"It seems that this would be an eventful occasion for us." She looked at both groups. "We thank you for such a momentous time-" she inclined her head.

"And for us as well." Jace replied smoothly.

He stood quickly and everyone followed suit. Jace led the way to the entryway, but as Clary tried to move forward, she tripped back. She tried again, this time more forcefully and she nearly bounced back and stumbled. Simon caught her before she fell over. Before anyone could speak, the Queen continued as if there had been no interruption.

"I beg for your indulgence. I ask only a few more moments of your time."

"What is this, my lady?" Jace asked.

There was no more politeness in his voice, and he had tacked the title in as an afterthought. He looked at the Queen through suspicious eyes. For the first time that night, he looked dangerous.

"I rather thought, since you had nothing to bring but unfortunate news, and no parting gifts, I would like to give you one. It would be rude for me not to give such esteemed guests something. After all-" she gestured to the Hunters. "They have what they sought after, did they not?"

"So you're forcing us to accept a present?" Jace couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice. "Or am I wrong in thinking we can leave anytime we want?"

He tried to push the vine curtain back. His hand stood flat against it, the muscles in his whole arm stood out.

The Queen held up one delicate finger. "If a mortal who steps foot into my court, and eats or drinks anything of my house, then they are bound to me. It is as binding as my words, the magic of the Faerie Queen."

"We didn't drink anything!" Clary protested.

"Didn't you?" she raised one delicate eyebrow.

Jace slowly turned to Clary. She flushed at his incredulous disapproval, but before she could make a protest, she blanched at a sudden thought.

"The sprite-it bit me."

Jo suddenly nodded, her expression cleared to realization at the same time as Simon's. This joke was on Clary, and said girl scowled at the Queen.

"So none of us can leave until you give us our gift?" she asked.

The Queen gave a serpentine smile. "You all came together, you all leave together. That is what companions are for, are they not?"

"Okay, so where is it?" Jace spread his hands expectantly.

Simon had a similar look, eyes glancing around for something that looked remotely present like. His eyes fell on the fabric that held the colt.

"How about that?" he asked the Queen.

She smiled at the suggestion and for a moment, it looked like she really might give it to them. The she wriggled in her seat; it was a girlish, seductive motion and she looked as if she was too bashful and excited to say whatever it was that she really wanted from them. On anyone else, it could have been charming, but her eyes held too much menace. Sam could feel the dread fill up the room like lead, and the Queen seemed to be enjoying that too.

She gave the cloth a glance. "Yes that would look lovely on her. You have good taste for such a young…creature." Simon flushed, and backed away. "But what she desires the most is something that is beyond her grasp."

"What kind of crap is that?" Jo muttered.

"Very potent 'crap.'" Jo jumped at the Queen's reply. "It will be a kiss that will leave her unbound."

"So I kiss someone, ok." Clary tried not to shiver. "No big deal."

"Lots to choose from." Jace joked, but it was ruined by his bleak expression.

Simon made an indignant noise. "Um hello?" he pointed to himself.

Simon moved away from Isabelle and strode over to Clary. He gave her a reassuring smile, but hers was too shaky. Simon gripped her shoulders lightly, red faced from the close scrutiny of everyone else. Clary nodded in acquiescence. She felt herself heat with embarrassment and she closed her eyes tight. Simon's breath tickled her lips and she fought to keep nervous giggles back.

His lips were on hers. It was light and soft, and any other time she would have been comfortable with it. She wasn't now, and she tried not to pull away, her hands twitching by her sides. They sprang apart.

"Tada!" Simon shouted in a too loud voice.

"There done. Ok, let's go." Clary made for the exit, only to be pushed back again.

She quickly avoided Simon's face. She just knew that she'd find incredulous hurt and betrayal. She couldn't blame him. Clary knew that she just gave a wound so deep, she might as well as stabbed him with a sword. She felt a rush of anger at not only the Queen but herself.

"What about Isabelle?" Dean suggested.

"Dean!" shouted Jo and Sam in unison.

He raised his hands in surrender.

"I'm just saying. I'm sure she doesn't want us to just all form a line."

"Oh what would you know?" came an irritable reply. It could have been anyone.

"Does it have to be Clary?" Sam asked the Queen.

"I have made my terms obvious."

"Well that's a yes." snapped Dean. He turned to the others. "No offense to any of you, but I'm really not in the mood for an orgy."

"None taken."

"How about Cas?" Isabelle spoke up. "He's angel, and he doesn't seem affected by magic, maybe he could take the spell off."

"I am-"

"Wait, can angels even kiss?"

"No." Dean spoke up, looking mortified. "He can't. He's still a-"

"Well we gotta get out of here somehow."

"I don't wanna be stuck here forever."

"Any better ideas?"

Clary glanced up, everyone was speaking at once. She trembled and glanced back at the Queen, who followed with amusement, and she gestured for another cup to be brought to her. Clary gritted her teeth, feeling an anger that was sending her reeling.

"Look." she spat at the Queen. "Just tell me who to kiss. Since you probably have someone in mind."

Everyone stopped arguing. The Queen preened from the undivided attention. She didn't speak, but she let her stare bore into Clary before dragging her gaze away to rest on Jace then looked back at Clary. Clary heard herself gasp, felt herself gasp. Her chest rattled from the sound.

"Aren't they siblings?" Jo asked slowly, as if to make sure she got it right.

"Yeah." Isabelle looked agonized for Jace, her dark eyes full of grief.

Dean made a noise, but was cut off from Sam as Jace glared at the two. Dean looked disgusted, not at Jace or Clary, but rather at the Queen.

"You think that's fun? That siblings like hearing about how 'hot' they'd look together? Like it wouldn't-"

"Shut up." Isabelle's voice was soft with a dangerous sorrow.

Dean nodded once in apology. Sam cringed, avoiding the Queen's eyes.

"You don't have to do this you know." Simon assured Clary.

"Unless we would like to stay here forever." Cas deadpanned. "The Queen would enjoy that."

Clary could feel the hot well of tears blur the room, humiliation scorching her. She only looked up when she heard the click of a hammer pulling back. Dean had loaded the colt and pointed it at the Faerie Queen. The fey that lounged beside her suddenly sprang up with shrieks, knocking over cups and trays. Liquid drenched the ground, and fruits and cakes squished underneath feet. They tripped over themselves in haste to get as far away as possible. A few smaller ones were not as lucky as they were trampled on. Courtiers pressed themselves against the walls, shouting.

Meliorn shouted, his cries bringing forth more armored faeries; they had drawn out their weapons, and warily encircled them. Guns had been drawn, and Jace and Isabelle held cylinder-esque objects in their hands, and they glowed dimly. Isabelle looked ready to shout, but Jace shushed her, and put himself in front of Clary. Simon was gaping, and appeared unable to say anything coherent. Isabelle shoved him behind her.

Sam had shot a warning look to Dean, but kept a tight grip on the handle of his gun. Some of the armored faeries had edged closer, lips pulled back into vicious snarls, and braced for a fight, their weapons raised. Meliorn made to rush into the fray but pulled up short when Cas suddenly moved in front of him, and he matched Meliorn in fierceness.

Dean had the satisfaction of seeing the Queen surprised, but she didn't show fear as she stared down the barrel of the gun. She moved slowly, and when she next spoke, her voice was honeyed.

"I have many knights." she gestured to the armored fey surrounding them. "My enchantments are some of the most powerful ever seen, mortal." she smiled. "Even if you do manage to kill me you will not leave here alive."

Dean shook his head, as if trying to see past a heat wave. "Maybe, maybe not. But we-" he gestured to Sam, Jo, and Cas without taking his eyes off the Queen. "Have got enough between us to put up a fight. Plus, an angel, who will smite your ass all the way into next week." he gave her a tight smile. "So here's a trade: you let us go. All of us and you get not to die. Sound good?"

"Dean…" one of the Shadowhunters warned. " Think about this-"

"No!" Clary shouted suddenly. "It's ok, I'll do it."

Clary pushed past Jace, and willed the Queen to look at her.

"I'll do it. Just let us go, and we won't bother you again. I'll do it, and you don't hurt anyone." she pleaded.

The Queen made an imperious gesture, and the fey knights reluctantly stepped back, looking disappointed that they wouldn't spill any blood. Meliorn glared fiercely at them all. Her expression was wicked and she leaned back. As if to say, she was going to get her way no matter what. She waved her hands together, motioning for Clary and Jace to face each other. Jace looked as if he had swallowed some live thing, and it was clawing its way through his insides.

"It's okay." Clary tried to get her voice to stop trembling.

"Of course. This doesn't mean a thing."

"Of course."

Clary exhaled loudly, blowing out air. She bounced in place and waved her hands. Almost like a nervous athlete warming up. Jace stood inches from her, not moving; Clary figured he must be too nervous to be able to make her feel better. She will herself to stay ramrod straight, like she would for a dentist to examine her teeth. Jace grabbed her shoulders and unlike Simon, his grip was like iron. His hands burned into her, his heat was melting into hers.

"Think about whatever you want. Christmas, kittens, a unicorn…"

Clary wished Jace would shut up and get it over with already. His breath tickled her face, and then she got her wish. His lips were softer than she thought they'd be, and she shivered at the unbidden thought of what was behind them and what that could be like. His lips were closed, and she mewled. The kiss was perfectly chaste, and when he slowly pulled back, her face tickled and thrummed from the close approximation. It was like her body knew that Jace was only millimeters away from her, and was waiting for him to pull back. An expectation that had to be fulfilled, like the way the Earth expects the Sun to appear. A buzzing filled her ears, and Clary thought it might be her atoms waiting for his.

He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing hadn't ceased or relaxed. A wave of boiling heat covered her from scalp to toes, and something warm and salty was on her face. He must have noticed because he crooned nonsense to her. It was an action a real brother would do. If they had lived together and he was used to keeping her safe, chasing away nightmares, and fixing scrapes, and hugging her when boys broke her heart.

He was he brother and she had to keep herself from crying out in despair. Jace nuzzled into her hair, and his hands wrapped around her shoulders and he let more of his weight settled next to hers. Clary could feel her tears leave trails and imprints on Jace's face, sharing something else. Her heart jolted when his lips brushed her eyelids, his mouth wet with her tears.

Clary's knees gave, bones liquefied and she felt another gut twisted emotion of molten shame. Just being so close was enough to unravel her that she'd vibrate with tension and she'd wish for her organs to spill or her DNA to reassemble itself. She gasped in surprise when he kissed her again.

Jace pressed harder this time, and the pressure made Clary nearly collapse, and she grabbed his jacket, hands whipping wildly into action. Like magnets, their mouths opened together, almost against their will, almost instinctual. All the sound was pushed away from her; there was a barrier between them and the outside. There was only Jace and herself. Jace's arms wrapped around her like poisonous vines, his grip tight enough to choke her, and she wanted it. A traitorous, vindictive heat had pooled in between her legs and it competed with the shame that she felt on her face and the wailing inside her chest. Something deep inside her stirred, some primeval creature raised its head. Her gut trembled as she slid one leg in between Jace's.

'This is wrong, this is so wrong-'

Her hands snaked their way into Jace's hair. She thought it would have felt course, like a lion's mane, but it was silky soft. She could play with his hair all day; if they knew each other as children she would have drove him crazy. His hands moved to the small of her back, and she could feel the scars and calluses. It was a roadmap of war, and her back arched like a willow tree in the breeze.

If only-she wanted the kiss to plunge; she could smell herself become pungent, and leave traces on his skin. Her tongue was thick wriggling thing, searching blindly for some tight place. Suddenly it was a fierce tug and pull, and she wished Jace would snap her in half and then put her back together any way he wanted-

Suddenly Jace pulled away and it took all of Clary's willpower not to cry out. He was panting slightly and his gold eyes turned very dark, ringed with something she couldn't understand. Jace looked at her briefly, and she saw his lips were slick and reddened, and that a bruise would appear later on.

He turned to the Faerie Queen.

"Satisfied?" He glowered at her. "Hope you enjoyed the show." he spat, hate dripping off his words.

The Queen had reclined as far as cushions would allow. Her slim legs were rubbing together like some giant grasshopper, and her fingers were all about her mouth. Her eyes bored down on them, and they were dark as the bottom of a well. It was as if their desire had sparked her own. Her dress creased as she spoke.

"Very." she purred. "Almost as much as yourselves."

As she moved, and she did, even if she appeared to be still; she looked like some large monstrous insect queen, lounging in comfort as her conniving subjects brought her nourishment and amusement. She heaved a sigh.

"A bargain is a bargain. All of you are free to go."

TMISPN

It was for the most part silent as they waded out of the water. Conversations were only about who was going where, or errands. Except for Clary.

"Simon-" she called.

She looked wildly around for him, expecting him to just pop out of the water, but she knew he would be upset.

"Where is he?! I have to talk to him, explain"

Jace pointed to a hill. Simon was striding in the opposite direction, already covering a large distance. A figure was keeping pace with him, and Clary could just make out a streak of blonde hair.

"I don't think he wants to." Jace didn't sound unkind.

"But-" Clary felt Jace tug her back. He turned to the three men. "Your friend, Jo went with him."

Dean turned in time to see their figures become slivers in the distance. He sighed briefly.

"Well, she's got a cell phone."

Clary nodded, and bit her lip. She felt someone squeeze her shoulder and it might have been Sam. She followed them out of the water and onto the path to the car. Their shoes squelched on the pavement and the wind made her hug her jacket tighter to her. They were a very bedraggled bunch.

"Anyone need a ride?" Sam asked.

Dean almost scowled; the interior would take a beating for this, but he didn't say anything. Isabelle turned to Jace; she looked like she wanted to reach for him, but something in his expression held her back.

"No thanks." Isabelle replied. "I need to get to Magnus's and tell them what's happened."

Isabelle turned to Clary expectantly; she looked oddly vulnerable. Clary trembled; Isabelle was a much better sister than she was, and Clary knew what Isabelle was getting at. To leave Jace alone for now.

'I'm sorry Isabelle. You really are a better sister.'

"No thanks."

Clary turned away to avoid Isabelle's expression. Jace cleared his throat.

"Would you mind taking me back to the institute? I have a few things to pick up."

"Sure."

Jace slid into the back seat with a nod of thanks, Cas followed him, and Clary went in wordlessly behind him. Sam gave one last look to Isabelle before they slammed the doors and drove off.

TMISPN

Simon hurried down the deserted street with only Jo for company. He didn't mind. She hadn't said a word so far, and when they were at a distance comfortable enough for him, he slowed down. It was late, or early, but still night, the moon high in the sky; Jo didn't check her watch, or look at the street signs. She just waited. Simon wasn't sure for what, but he wanted to break the silence. In a way, he was afraid that by doing that, it would acknowledge that what happened in the Seelie Court actually happened, but what if he didn't? What if he just pretended that everything was ok? Clary and Jace flashed in his mind, and he suddenly knew that he didn't want to pretend.

So he started to talk.

"Surprised that it's still night." It would be good to start small.

"Oh?" she looked at him curiously.

"The Faerieland has a time difference. Sometimes you could be in there for days and not know it."

"Oh." she continued. "That's really creepy."

"They're creepy."

"Creepiest things I've seen in a long time." Jo replied.

"Them too." Simon paused, taking a breath. "Shadowhunters too."

Jo looked surprised.

"Aren't they your friends?"

He laughed, and was surprised at the bitterness. "Not really. They treat me like crap. I think they only let me hang around em' because of Clary."

"Your girlfriend. Isn't she a Shadowhunter?"

"Only until recently. On both counts. She and Jace were raised apart and didn't even know each other existed until a couple of weeks ago. Now she's all gung ho to be one too. She thinks they're so cool, and Jace-well he's the coolest."

Jo's shoes sloshed with water, it was the only sound next to Simon's voice.

"He was so…smug, arrogant and Clary looked at him like he was an anime superhero come to life, and she always looked like she was just waiting for something to happen and sweep her away to adventure. She always had that look, you know? Like someone's in their head, in places where you can't follow. I knew-I knew. That as soon as she met some like that, like Jace-she'd-" he took a shaky breath. "She'd just take off. In a heartbeat."

Jo wasn't looking at him with pity, but maybe something else. Simon was glad; pity was horrible to give to somebody, a consolation prize, a very nice 'oh, here you go.' He just wasn't sure if she'd know what he was talking about, it was so personal.

"It sucks to be left behind." she said. "My dad used to be a hunter, before. He died."

Simon wasn't going to say I'm sorry. It wouldn't be adequate, and anyway he knew how she felt.

"Mine too."

Jo smiled. "Although yours probably from something else." she didn't sound chiding or bitter, just a gentle matter of fact-ness. "When he died, I got his knife. Mom didn't want me to get into hunting, but I wanted to have something in common with Dad. I never really got to know him and I want to think that I make him proud. I love doing this job."

Simon must have looked incredulous, because she laughed.

"I know right? But this was the only thing that I really liked. It's scary as hell, and you never know what's gonna happen next but…helping people feels good. The ones you can save anyway."

"Huh."

He liked hearing her talk. So full of serious hope, and he kinda had the feeling she might have been telling him it was ok. Not being a Shadowhunter, or how he felt. It didn't make it any easier, but knowing someone knew that felt great. Sometimes you needed a stranger more than a friend.

"They really do care for each other." She knew what he meant.

"Well they were raised apart right?"

Simon grimaced. "I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"I'm not sure either."

"I don't blame Clary, but I wanted to hate Jace. Still do, but…I feel horrible for trying to."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I saw the way he looked. The whole time. I thought he was just stringing her along, and would quit when he found out he's her sister, but that's not it. He feels the same way she does…and its killing him."

Jo regarded him silently. "I didn't look at him. Or…I didn't look at them. It was hard to watch, so I looked at you. That was pretty hard to watch too."

So they were even. She knew that he wasn't gonna get over Clary. They walked on in silence once again, the subject seemed closed; nothing more needed to be said.

TMISPN

At the Institute, everyone piled out.

"I just need an hour or so." Jace assured. He sounded strangely young. "That's cool with you?"

Clary raised an eyebrow at his out of turn phrasing, but it was the easiest thing to think of so far. Dean nodded as if it was obviously okay, but didn't say anything else.

"I'll stay here too." she was surprised to hear that her voice sounded like lead. "I'm a Shadowhunter. I can escort you back."

She was sure she saw them exchange a look, or try to say something. They seemed to think better of it. Clary was pretty sure they knew that there was nothing to say. Or maybe they just thought it was none of their business.

"Ok." Dean started the ignition. "We'll be back soon. Just call us when you're ready."

"Thanks." Jace's eyes still looked dark, but maybe they were a little grateful too.

The two of them watched the car slowly turn down the lane and they walked inside. Clary shivered when they went inside; the air was cold, and all the lights were doused. They rode the clanging elevator in silence, and when they stepped into the foyer, no one, not even Church greeted them.

"I'm going to grab a shower."

"I'll just wait here."

Jace looked firm. "No. Come in my room. I've got some clean clothes you can change into."

Clary mutely followed him. His room was still the same Spartan clean that she remembered, with no posters, books, or personalized sheets. Nothing to suggest that anyone really lived in it. She felt a twinge of sadness. He didn't make a home for himself. She remembered her old room, the way it was before Valentine's servants destroyed it and she blinked back tears. Even though it was gone forever, some memories of it remained at Luke's house, and Simon's-

She flipped out her cell phone, trying to be discreet. Jace had already laid out some clothes for her and his back was to her; he was getting ready for his shower. She stared at her phone, trying to gather her courage. She sighed, gently let it thump on Jace's bed and began to change.

The water hissed to life, and steam was starting to gather beneath the door. Clary lifted the shirt, smelling it. It was clean. It smelled of soap, fresh and full of Jace-scent. It was a little wrinkled, but she didn't care. If Jace knew how to do his laundry perfectly, then that would just be a little too weird. She glanced down at her phone. Clary quickly scrolled through and clicked Simon's number.

It just kept ringing. With just the dial tone, her nerves got even jumpier.

"What are you doing?"

Clary jumped, and spun around. Jace was in a towel, skin slicked with water and suds still clung to golden muscles. Clary's insides felt a delicious shiver go through her; the creature inside her lifted its head, sniffing the air. She wanted to hate him for appearing like that. His eyes narrowed when he saw her fingers were clutching her phone, its burring audile despite the running showing.

"You were calling rat-boy weren't you?" his voice accusing.

Clary clenched her teeth. "Simon. He saved your life remember? All our lives. What's your problem?"

Jace glared at her but said nothing. His gold eyes had a strange glint to them, but Clary couldn't figure it out.

"Besides." she continued, hearing Simon's voicemail switch on. "He's not picking up."

Jace's face filled with exasperation. "Obviously not. I saw his face, I was looking at him."

His voice was filled with something incredulous and condescending. As if to say:

"He is your friend, and I was paying better attention than you."

Clary gave Jace a fierce glare; she knew what he really meant, and now he knew that she did too. She had the childish urge to shout that she was Simon's friend first, and Jace had no right to tell her about her own friend, someone he didn't even like.

"Exactly why I should! It was my fault-"she shouted, ignoring Jace's expression.

'Because I should have been paying attention. I had forgotten about him entirely, when I should know better.' she thought with a guilty squirm.

"No it's not-besides, I started it."

He moved forwards, ready to embrace her. At the thought, the creature sat up, intrigued, whining hungrily. Clary threw up her hands to ward it off. Jace stood back a pace, his face looking pained.

"Clary-"

"Your all wet." she knew it was flimsy excuse.

Jace knew it too. His eyes turned flinty, trying desperately to cover up pain. He seemed to be struggling to say something, and Clary wanted her phone again. She made a grab for it but Jace was too quick and he batted it out of her hands. It went skittering to the floor. Clary didn't bother to retrieve it.

"So you'll just run away? Run away to use Simon, or maybe me next time?"

Clary was shocked. "Use Simon?! What they hell are you talking about?!"

Jace moved forward again; he was determined to get something. "You don't really love him."

It was his matter of fact tone that angered Clary most of all.

"Of courses I do! How dare you tell me how I feel, just because you're my brother doesn't give you any right to tell me how I can and can't feel. You don't own me-"

Jace cut her off. "I'm not saying it because I'm your brother; I'm saying it because you want to hide behind Simon-to stop this-"

At 'this', he gestured to the space between them. To everything that had happened. Not only from last night but also the night of her birthday, the battle at Renwick's, and discovering that their father was Valentine. All of it the essence of their relationship and whatever it was between them.

"I know it scares you. It scares me too. But Clary-" he gripped her arms tight. "It's ok, this can work-"

Clary wanted desperately to lean into his touch, like affection would allow. She couldn't see a way that touching him wouldn't wake that creature up, that it wouldn't cry in delight. That she couldn't even show affection, that even the most innocent gestures would have a double meaning, some kind of perversion. Then she knew: this was how she felt. Her body did want that, even if her mind cried out in despair, the rest of her wouldn't listen. She didn't know how to make it go away.

Her expression must have shown on her face because Jace tried to move toward her again, and Clary nearly cringed in fear.

"No." she tried to avoid his stare. "We can't give into this-"

Jace had stepped back as if she'd slapped him. She felt her face twist in agony at his reaction.

"This?"

"Whatever it is, at the Seelie Court-"

"Which we had to do." he cut her off.

"Yes, but not like that. You shouldn't have kissed me like that."

Jace's voice was hard. "Then why'd you let me?"

Clary tried to keep herself in check. Under his hard gaze, she quivered and the creature inside knew how to remedy this, and say all the words that could be said. She shut her eyes tight, trying to cram the creature back in the cage. She hoped her voice would be steady.

"I shouldn't have."

She watched his face crumple briefly; whatever deep thing he was feeling got crushed before he could voice it. Shot down without a word. Was that better or worse than having said it, letting the weight of the words become reality and then be pushed away? Clary couldn't tell. She watched his face go through the spasms of concealing pain before anger took over, and then the smooth glide of cool disdain and disinterest.

"Well, I guess not." he turned his back on her, a clear dismissal. "I hope none of the hot water ran out." he said lightly and as if it was just to himself, but really she knew what it meant.

The door slammed, and strands of hair fluttered around her face. Clary stared down at the floor. It was blurry, and she bent down to retrieve her phone. She flipped it open, scrolling through the numbers. Luke's name was visible, his number fuzzy.

She knew she should call him, tell him what happened. But the thought of facing him and knowing what she had done, filled her with shame. Sinking down onto the bed, she clutched her phone and cried.

TMISPN

After what felt like forever, Dean finally pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour Laundromat. He sat for a moment, slowly pulled the keys out of the ignition.

"That." he breathed. "Was crazy."

Sam snorted. "I'll say. Pulling the colt on the Queen of Faeries? You've done some stupid things before, but…"

"Yeah, yeah. It's been said, but did we really know that she'd keep her word?" He continued. "We're lucky to have gotten the colt as it is!"

"How did she acquire the gun?" Cas asked.

"Crowley." Dean replied. "Which you would have known if you went with us." he rolled his eyes.

"That is troubling."

"Yeah well what'd you expect?" Dean snapped.

"No, I wasn't referring to that."

"Then what?" Sam asked.

"What the Queen said…"

Dean turned to look at Cas. "She said a lot of things."

"True, but Faeries cannot lie. They are physically unable to; it is a part of their magic."

"Okay…" Dean replied slowly.

"Faerie magic is binding. When they make bargains, they must adhere to them. Twist them anyway they please, yes, but they have to honor the commitment." Cas put in, leaning forward from the backseat.

"We know that." Dean shot back. "Well, we know that now, but what does that have to do with anything?!"

"Dean." Sam gave his brother a look. He turned in his seat. "What are you getting at Cas?"

"The Shadowhunters. She called them Nephilim."

He really was troubled by this. Dean shot his brother an aggrieved expression, but Sam seemed to know what Cas was talking about.

"What is that?" Dean asked.

"A legend." Sam explained. "A section of the Bible tells a story about how a group of angels fell in love and had children with humans. Nephilim are those offspring."

"Which is not possible." Cas sounded strained.

When the two men looked back at him, he amended himself.

"Or rather, if it was The Host would not allow it."

Dean snorted; he made his opinions on the rest of Cas's family vocally known in the past. He opened the door and Sam and Cas followed suit. A lot of things they shouldn't have allowed to happen, they did, and things that would have been perfectly okay were completely out of the question. He had said this before and did so now. Cas looked aggrieved, but not because of what Dean was saying.

"True enough, but this would be…" Cas shook his head, as if amazed at the notion.

"Too big?" Sam supplied.

Cas nodded, looking grateful for the assistance. "Very. I'm not sure how it is even possible…I've certainly never heard of anyone who had any proof of this."

"Well, maybe they were lying to you guys. Wouldn't be the first time." Dean reasoned.

Sam made a noise of agreement, and they began to pile clothes. Cas looked nonplussed as Dean began pushing a bag into his arms.

"Let's go."

Sam grabbed the laptop; ignoring Dean's teasing "Geek", and walked in. Cas started to speak again, looking considering.

"Although, I might have the proof before me." he mused.

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked as he helped Dean pile laundry onto a table.

"The fact that they even had an angelic sword in their possession-a rather powerful one I might add. They have odd weapons I have never seen before but I felt them. They use some kind of script. It resembles Enochian, and in several different variants it seems."

Sam powered on the laptop as Dean sorted and put their clothes in the machine. Dean tugged on Cas's trench coat, when Cas stared at him uncomprehendingly he explained.

"You're not a cartoon. You can't wear the same things every day, besides this is soaking wet."

He reached into the bottom of one of their bags. He found a shirt and jeans at the very bottom, which meant they were the cleanest. He put them in front of Cas.

"Here"

Cas stared at them for a moment before peeling off his coat. Dean grabbed it and stuffed it into a machine. Cas began to change, ignoring their looks. They were the only people there.

"There was another thing." he said. "They had an odd…power."

"You mean that echo thing you were talking about?" Dean leaned on the edge of the table.

"Yes. It had a vague resemblance to our grace."

"Grace is what makes an angel an angel right?" Sam asked, typing quickly.

"That is the simplest way to put it." Cas replied. "These Shadowhunters don't have it, so I shouldn't feel this…connection."

"Connection?" Dean asked.

"It's hard to describe."

"Ok, here's something." Sam announced.

He loaded up a page. It looked like a site on archeology, taking about an old dig and what had been discovered. One picture showed a large skull, dusty with age, but it was still apparent that the skull was human, or human shaped.

"That kids, is what happens when a dinosaur and a caveman love each other very much." Dean commented.

"Not your best work there Dean." Sam countered. "I got this because they named it after Nephilim."

Sam pulled up another tab, clicking away and revealing a biblical text.

"According to some legends, Nephilim were giants. The story goes on to say that when a pair of angels who sired some of these creatures, they went to a pious old man named Enoch. They wanted him to speak to God on their behalf. Long story short, when they get there, God isn't too happy with them. God then praises Enoch, and he gets to stay in Heaven and becomes Metatron the voice of God."

"Metatron was never a man." Cas replied, confused. "Your Bible has some misapprehensions."

"Tell me about it." Dean replied.

"Which brings me to Enochian-"

"Named after the Enoch guy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, apparently he was the last human to know the angel language and he recorded some of it. Its incomplete, but…" he looked thoughtful. "I'll need more than just this." he gestured to his computer.

"They had an odd phrase." Cas said. "'By the Angel.'"

"As in By God?" Sam asked.

"It was an exclamation. So yes, I believe so."

"Strange lives." Dean commented.

Jo and Simon turned down another corner, this one more deserted than the last. They had been progressively getting into the rougher part of the city, or well one of them at any rate. Simon had picked up his pace, and Jo had to catch up. His pace seemed almost trace-like, but he said nothing of it. A couple hundred feet away was and old building with a broken sign, its letters cracked and rusty, one letter was gone entirely.

Simon stopped short and blanched when he saw the building. Jo hurried to get to him. She stopped when she got to his side, watching him stare at the building with undisguised horror.

"What? I know this is pretty shady neighborhood, but we've been in it for a while now-"

Simon didn't answer, but instead pointed to its sign.

The Dumort

Jo looked nonplussed. She had taken enough Spanish to know what it meant, but it was just an abandoned building. Jo stepped forward to get a better look; she heard Simon's intake of breath, and the sound of his shoes crunching on litter. It was deserted, and the windows were boarded in a few places, but some had been covered in tarp and held in place with bricks. The ground around it was surrounded by grime and trash. A few scrawls of graffiti looked hastily painted on, but it looked like someone took the trouble to whitewash it.

The place did have an air of old grandeur, since it used to be a hotel. It had the popular old design of a chain. Probably built when the area was still a rich residential district and the only people who lived in this particular section were the upper class white families. Of course time and immigration changed all that, but the building hadn't forgotten, even if its glory had faded.

Still, something about it was off-putting. Jo felt her instincts prickling, and she tried to peer into the cracks. It was completely dark, but she could have sworn she just saw something move-

Jo sprang back, pushing away creeping vines and decided to leave it be. Her shoes crunched on glass, and she almost hissed at the sound she made; freezing, she just began to look around with just her eyes. Dread made her keep the building somewhere in her line of sight as she slowly inched away.

"Simon?" she said, not bothering to raise her voice.

He wasn't where he used to be. He wasn't anywhere. Normally, she wouldn't have been too fussed, but this could get dangerous, especially for a white boy who doesn't know how to fight. She looked down at the ground; a streetlight illuminated a still-soggy shoe print.

'Guess it's my lucky day.'

She followed the prints to an alleyway; it used to be a service entry for delivery trucks, now it was littered with trash, and a dumpster that was shunted sideways. Its contents overflowed. Something white glinted off to the side, hanging out of the lid's catch, and dangling there. Even from this distance, Jo knew it was a bone. She lightly moved forward; it was picked clean, ravaged by teeth marks, and entirely too white. Not human, but from some smaller animal.

She glanced around. This didn't seem like the place to throw away your dog's table scraps, and she peered into the dumpster and saw more of them. She reached into her messenger bag for a knife. She let the tip of the blade poke through the trash, more bones were inside. They were all shapes and sizes, and she was relieved to see that none of them appeared to be human. A sound clanged and skittered. Jo willed herself not to jump.

She walked to the wooden broken fence and peered inside. The back of the hotel was just as creepy, and this yard was littered with more garbage and bones. Another rustle and she could see a dark head of hair bobbing frantically.

Simon. She hurried to his side and grabbed his shoulder. He yelped and spun around. When he saw it was her, he relaxed.

"You scared the crap out of me!" he whispered.

"What are you doing?"

Simon didn't flush, and he didn't quite look guilty; he was hiding something, but it was making him afraid. His eyes were wide, saucer sized and confused.

"What's going on?" she kept her voice just sharp enough to get a decent answer.

Simon took a deep breath. "Something happened to me when I met the Shadowhunters."

He began to fiddle with a grate on the ground. His fingers were frantically playing with the metal, scraping against its ridged surface. He began to speak again as he did so.

"When Clary was trying to find out what she was, we had to visit someone. A warlock-Magnus."

The grate gave a little, and Simon's fingers wriggled beneath the gap and he began to tug.

"So Magnus-he was throwing a party, and when I went there, I drank something." he made a face; it would have been funny any other time. "I turned into a rat. I know crazy right? Well it happened-"

"I believe you." Jo cut in.

The muscles jumped and strained as Simon tugged with all his might. The grate gave and Simon dropped it when he was suddenly met with no resistance. He winced at the sound, managing to become even paler.

"There were these people-" Simon shuddered, seemingly unable to continue. "They took me back with them."

"These people?" Jo looked up at the hotel with new horror. "The people who live here?"

"Yes." he whimpered. "They thought I was one of them-and" he choked off, near tears. "I might be-"

"When you were a rat? How is that possible?"

Simon moaned low in his throat and he stared at his feet in horror as they seemed to move on their own accord. His hands frantically pushed rot and garbage away from the grate's entrance. He tried to prevent a scream as his body braced and began to lower itself inside the grate. He was beginning to disappear.

Jo reached inside, and her hands only grabbed air. She bit back a curse and pushed herself feet first down the grate. When her feet touched the ground, she blinked. It was dark, but she couldn't wait for her eyes to adjust, she had to get to Simon.

He wasn't hard to find; the only sounds were coming from him. Simon had stuck one of his fists in his mouth, and his breathing was short. Jo could almost hear him biting his knuckles.

"I'm right behind you. Don't scream."

Jo reached for him. He still jumped, even if he didn't make a sound. She felt for his shoulders; he was shaking. They were still walking and as Jo's eyes adjusted, she could see it was some kind of hallway.

"Listen." she whispered in his ear. "I need to know what's going on, but I need your help. You're going to have to calm down. Can you do that?"

Simon slowly removed his hands from his mouth. He drew in a shaky breath, and nodded.

"Thank you. Ok, first: you were a rat?"

Simon might have smiled. This would have been funny if it wasn't actually happening. He nodded again.

"When I was brought back here, they mistook me for one of them." He continued on, "I didn't know if anyone was coming to save me. When they did, it got really messy and I bit one of the people who were holding me…hostage."

They came out of the hallway; Jo turned back. It was a servant's hall. It was in the old days, when the help couldn't use the same hallways as the guests, and had to take different routes. They walked forward, coming into a more elegant looking room. It reminded Jo of when she watched The Titanic and the scene where they showed the grand staircase. This room was magnificent, or it used to be. For one thing, the staircase had been ripped out. Dust hung, clung and coated every surface. The dark wood of the furniture was dulled by it. Mold clung to the carpets, flying up into plumes when stepped on. Chandeliers and candelabras still gleamed, their candles dried out stumps. Wax clung to them and crusted on the edges, flecks covered tables and clung.

Jo glanced upwards. She could see an upstairs, its own hallway and its railings were missing in some places. Jo squinted. She just barely make out the rooms beyond them. She bristled; at any time, someone could just peer over the ledges on the hallway; here was even a smaller circular balcony to observe what was going on below. Almost like an opera house.

"Where are they?" she whispered.

"Here" he looked around. "They probably already know we're here."

"What do they look like?" Jo turned to him. "Simon, what do the rat-people look like?"

Simon could've squeaked. "Not…rat-people. Vampires."

At the word, he shuddered. He had said it so breathy that Jo was amazed she could have heard the response at all. She stared at him in shock; she couldn't tell if he could even see it, or how he would have responded.

'Rat People…are vampires? How could they mistake Simon for one of them? They can't transform or anything, but that does explain the bones. They've been draining prey and just chucking them out when finished. I bet the garbage was just to hide it from anyone who'd prowl around. The smell alone would keep people away. This place is pretty dark for a nest and big too. Just how many of them are there?'

"This is a nest?" she asked.

Simon just nodded; he seemed to be holding back sobs. Jo almost wanted to ask him if the Shadowhunters knew about this place, and if so why not just wipe it off the map. She rummaged in her messenger bag, and found what she was looking for: a knife holster. She strapped it her thigh and felt the reassuring weight of the knife resting inside. She had a flashlight; nobody like getting shined in the face with one no matter who they were. She pulled it out of her bag and handed it to him. Simon seemed to like holding something at the moment.

"So…you bit one and now you think you're turning into one?" she asked him.

"Correct." another voice answered.

Jo looked up. The upper floor was filled with them. They were vampires. Simon made another moaning noise. He sounded like a dying old man; out of the corner of her eye, she saw that his face had a deer in the headlights expression. He was facing the firing squad. She searched the crowd; there were at least a dozen, and some shadows suggested more.

'Oh shit.'

"So I really am turning into a vampire?" Simon sounded on the verge of hysteria.

"Oh yes." It sounded amused.

A young Hispanic man was at the head of the crowd. He couldn't have been more than fourteen, but Jo knew that couldn't be possible. His attitude suggested someone much older. He was surprisingly delicate looking, with pouty lips and curly dark hair. His skin still managed to keep some of its tone from when he was alive, and now it enhanced his looks. With his open white shirt and dark pants, he seemed come straight out of an Anne Rice novel.

Flanking him was a boy and girl; they looked a bit older, but she wasn't sure by how much. The girl had delicate Asian features, but her hair was a vivid blue. She was calmly looking down on them. Beside her was an extremely tall blond boy. His grin was wide and excited. Jo could see his teeth had descended and he flashed them at her. Even more were behind them. A boy with dreads, a pretty redhead, and many more.

"Thing is," the blond boy spoke up. "You wouldn't have if you didn't come back."

Laughter rang up, it was high and terrible. Jo gritted her teeth. She let her fingers brush a handle. Simon had switched on the flashlight; its bright orb wavered and trembled. He was shaking so hard that the lights' beam went all over the place, and it briefly raced across the gathered faces there. They narrowed their eyes at the light, but laughed all the same when he tried to hit them.

"Then, how-why'd I come back?" Simon didn't wait for an answer. "Please, just let us go!"

Another round of laughing shook the banisters. Jo shivered; they might not notice anything else but the hammering of her heart…

"Of course not. You have trespassed onto our territory-for a second time. Clave Law states that we can do whatever we please with people who come willingly into our home."

'Clave Law?' Jo thought back to her car ride in The Impala, getting a rundown from Sam. 'Is that the law of the Shadowhunters? Their government…thing? They actually make laws with these-things?!' Jo remembered Jace's angered words earlier that day- 'The hotel! Of course, when Simon said they made it out ok, they were referring to this place. Jace said they barely made it out alive. So I guess nobody is coming to save our asses then.'

Simon turned to Jo, his face contorted with agonized grief. "I'm so sorry-" he choked. "You were just trying to look after me, and I got you involved." he looked ready to pull out clumps of his hair.

Jo took his hands briefly. "It's ok."

"He is right. You will die right alongside him." the Hispanic vampire said.

Jo grimaced. She let her breath hitch, as though she might cry. Some started to laugh once more. With just a fast flick of her wrist, she knew her aim was true; her knife sped forward and sank into the Hispanic vampire's forehead, right between the eyes. The laughter abruptly stopped as the vampire went crossed-eyed and fell the floor.

"Raphael!" one of them shouted.

"Hurry!" shouted Jo.

She grabbed Simon's arm and raced away from the vampires.

"Which way?" she shouted.

"Ugh…" Simon strained to remember. He suddenly pointed. "That way!"

He pointed to another servant's hallway. Vampires were racing behind them, almost close enough to overtake. Simon screamed. The blue haired girl had grabbed him and was holding him in an iron vice. Jo was yanked back by the handle of her messenger bag. She gasped at the unexpected lance of pain. Before anyone could react, Simon shined the flashlight in the eye of the vampire that was holding Jo back. She turned around and kicked out hard. Her boot connected with the vampire's jaw. There was a small, but audible crick. The vampire stumbled back in surprise. He rubbed his jaw in disbelief, squinting wildly at them. Jo winced when she put her weight on her leg. The blue haired vampire snarled, almost too surprised to do anything other than stare, but Simon stared back in shock and Jo pulled him to the servants' entryway. Blue hair recovered from her shock and threw herself at them. Simon screamed again and they stumbled into the hallway. It had a door, and they struggled to hold it shut as the vampire slammed herself into it.

"Which way?" Jo cried. "Which way to the exit?"

Simon blinked hard, trying to overcome panic. He pointed to the right. Jo nodded.

"Okay, grab my gun out of my bag and hand it to me." at his blank look she shouted. "Now!"

Simon jumped, and bent down, rummaging inside the bag. The door was slamming so hard, their teeth rattled and Simon nearly dropped the gun when he handed it to her. She talked and loaded it at the same time.

"You go first. I'll buy you some time."

Simon nodded, and sprang away from the door. He began to move forward and Jo moved away from the door. When she let up, the door sprang wide open and knocked Jo off her feet. The Blue haired vampire came out first, grinning over her. Jo unlocked and shot. It didn't make her do much but stumble back and Jo scrambled up off the floor.

"That tickles." Blue giggled.

Jo shot her again, holes widened in the girl's shirt. Jo all the while was quickly backing away. Shot after shot went into Blue, and behind her, more were appearing.

"That doesn't seem to be doing much."

Jo gave her a feral grin. "I know." she shot Blue again.

Jo and Simon raced up the stairs. Jo was having difficulty because she was moving backwards, Simon suddenly grabbed her shoulders to steady her and she had to reload. He shouted in alarm when she stopped shooting. The vampires shot through fast and Jo's rifle spilled out of her bag. Simon grabbed it, and with a terrified cry, swung it high in the air. It cracked down on the dreadlocked boy and Simon swung again, like a baseball player gone mad. The redheaded female made to stop him, but Jo had managed to reload. She shot Red, and blood spurted from her neck, bright as her hair.

"Bitch!" she shouted at Jo in a heavy Russian accent.

Red pinned Jo to the stairs, and she gasped. Pain bloomed all along her back, and she saw spots as Red bent down, her teeth sharp. Jo's arms flailed wildly, and she could hear Simon shout her name. Her hands found a knife and she grabbed the handle, sinking the blade into Red's neck. Red hissed in irritation. Jo's hands were slippery with blood and she drove the blade deeper into Red's neck. Irritation and anger became pain, and Jo felt the tug and yank of an artery. Red shouted, and Jo struggled to cut her target. Rough firm hands gripped her, intent on pulling her apart.

Jo's vision began to blur as the hands gripped her flesh. She couldn't tell if they were trying to strangle her or throw her off. A shot rang out. The hands slipped back. There was a surprised yelp. Jo found the strength to twist her knife a bit more, and suddenly there was no more resistance. She cut the artery and Red stumbled back, nearly collapsing onto another vampire. Jo twisted her head as she heard another shaky shot. Simon had picked up her shotgun and had managed to figure out how to shoot it. His aim was wild, but he didn't let up, eyes wide.

Jo gathered her things, stuffed what fell out of her bag and grabbed Simon.

"Come on." she rasped.

A vampire blocked the exit, he had moved forward. It was the one they called Raphael.

"That is far enough."

Simon made another horrified noise.

"Shoot!" Jo screamed.

Raphael moved before he could, slamming Simon into a wall. The Blond vampire made a grab for him and punched him in the stomach. His noise of pain was like nothing she had ever heard. Lightning fast, Jo was pushed down the stairs, into the arms of waiting vampires. She screamed and kicked out, struggling. Her messenger bag tangled around her, nearly cutting off her windpipe. She could feel mouths on her and she screamed again.

Stars were gathering up onto the ceiling. Her heart pounded, and she was being raised up-

'Is this how I'm going to die? No…No! I refuse. I won't die like this!'

She screamed, this time in anger. She twisted in time to see Simon struggle to stay upright. He launched himself at Raphael and Jo took that as her cue to jump. Pain vibrated through her feet and legs as she kicked out, connecting with flesh, faces, the walls. Her bag swung around, its contents flew again. A small piece of metal hit her in the face.

The flask of holy water. Pale hands went for her knives. Blond grabbed one, the initials W.A.H flashed across her vision. She unscrewed the cap of the flask without thinking. Blond twirled the slender knife.

"Did you really think something like this could hurt us?"

Red laughed; she was a little shaky on her feet, but still alive. Jo kept her eyes on them; Simon was held in a vice like grip by Raphael. He struggled weakly. Dark curls were brushing against his face. A cross dangled from Raphael's neck, its light glinted against Simon's cracked glasses. The shotgun lay abandoned at their feet.

Jo gripped the flask tight and flicked her wrist. A long arc of holy water hit Blond and few closest to him. They shrieked in pain as their flesh bubbled and popped. Blond dropped the knife and Jo darted forward and grabbed it before it hit the ground. She flicked out more holy water and the crowd jumped back to avoid getting splashed.

"Simon!"

The boy stared at her, then at the cross at Raphael's neck. They formed a wary circle around her, eyes flashing in hate. They watched her every movement as she shifted her stance. Jo gritted her teeth; Simon couldn't do anything with no weapon and Raphael was faster and would kill him before Simon had a chance to defend himself. Jo glanced down, once at the floor. The bar of iron, the shotgun with the rock salt, a few shells filled with salt. A couple of her knives littered the ground. Vampires were eyeing them as if they wanted grab them. Some others seemed to wonder which weapons she'd go for.

'As soon as I go for them, they attack. They're too fast to dodge. I'll get overpowered as soon as I grab something. Sure a few will go down if I can get em', but someone else will just attack. They gang up and that'll be it. I need a distraction. What I need is Simon.'

Jo sighed deeply. They edged forward, sure that was a sign of defeat. She tucked the knife away, moving her other hand slowly to let them know she still had her holy water. She must have dropped her hand gun in all the confusion. Jo couldn't see it anywhere. A ripple went through the circle, and Jo felt their decision to attack rather than saw it.

A loud cry made them turn their heads; Simon made a move. Jo dashed forward as Simon bit down hard on Raphael's ear. His fingers brushed the shotgun as Jo's grabbed the bar of iron. She ducked low as vamps surged forward to tackle her like linebackers. She kicked the shotgun forward and it descended into Simon's hand like a blade of holy origin. He struck the muzzle of the gun at Raphael, it scraped at his chin and Simon struggled to fire. The muzzle was caught on the chain of Raphael's cross necklace.

He took the shot anyway. Simon was pushed back by the blast, finally freed from Raphael's grip. The vampire stumbled back and Simon shouted as he raced up the stairs, with Jo following behind him. The screams and curses of the damned were right behind them. The stairs creaked underneath their feet, and those of their pursuers threatened to break them entirely. The two hurled themselves through a door frame and slammed the door shut behind them.

"Hurry!" Jo screamed. "Find something to brace the door!"

Simon dropped the shotgun and bolted down the musty corridor and vanished into a room. The door was rattling and Jo pushed with all her might. It felt like her all teeth and bones might pop out, or that she would pass out-

A heavy scraping came by and Jo was relieved to see Simon had come back. He was straining to push a dresser forward. It was huge and towered upwards. Jo wasn't even sure how he managed to get it into the hall, and she could see his muscles strain to keep moving it. She twitched impatiently. If only she could get to him-

"Come on, you're doing great!" she urged.

He shoved hard and it was close enough that she grabbed a corner and pulled.

"This won't hold for long." Simon panted.

"No. How'd you guys get outta here the last time anyway?"

"Werewolves. Long story, but they came in through the windows and fought off the vampires. We ran up to the roof."

"Wow-" she panted. "Crap. What'd you do before that? Can you remember?"

Simon shuddered. "I just remember what Clary told me after, and-"

The door rattled again. The thumping was more strained. It budged the two and the door and a white hand shout out. Simon yelled and the hand grabbed the collar of his shirt. Simon was quickly pulled into the doorknob, his face jammed between the crack between the door and the wall next to it. His screams got progressively louder as he groped for the shotgun. Jo reached forward, iron bar in hand as she struggled to pry Simon away. The metal was inches from Simon's face, his eyes wide.

"Do it!" he shouted.

Jo stabbed the bar at the hand. Only surprise made it loosen its grip, and Simon managed to wrench away by the skin of his teeth. He leapt back before slamming his weight into the dresser. The owner of the hand yelled when the door slammed heavily onto his hand, and only his fingers remained in the cracks. The vampire still hung tenuously onto the door's opening. Jo handed Simon the holy water and he poured it onto the fingers. A brief scream before the fingers wrenched themselves back, and together the two managed to shift the monstrous dresser in front of the door. It managed to block the door's frame entirely.

Simon wordlessly handed the holy water back to her. She capped it with a nod of thanks. Simon picked up the shotgun with shaky hands. He looked ready to slump down, but Jo shook her head and offered him her hand.

"Iron." he said.

"Huh?"

Simon was looking curiously at the shotgun; something glimmered on its barrel and Jo realized that it was the cross that Raphael had been wearing on his neck.

"Weird thing for a vampire to wear…" Simon mused.

"Well it can't hurt them." Jo turned to look at the door.

"Yes it can."

Jo turned back to him in confusion. Her look was mirrored on his face. He peered at her strangely.

"I saw the skin where Raphael was wearing it." he continued. "There was a burn."

"Ok."

"Crosses, silver, blessed iron, running-"

"Wait, iron?" Jo asked, cutting him off.

"If it's been blessed, then yeah. Isabelle tol-"

Jo snatched up the cross and used its chain to tie it around the bar of iron. Simon's eyes widened.

"What the hell." she muttered.

"Wait, you're going to bless the iron?"

Jo nodded quickly. She ran through a mental list of her Latin.

'Crap, I really hope this works.'

She tied the necklace to the bar and began to chant rapidly. It was probably a little off, but it would have to do. To be safe, she uncapped the flask and poured holy water over it. There was only enough left in the flask for a single swallow.

Simon was looking at her with wide eyes. She handed the bar of iron to him and he set the shotgun down and took it. Jo felt the sadness on her face; Simon would forever know what waited in the dark, and he stared up at her with big dark eyes.

"I won't let them hurt you." she promised.

"Thanks."

The door slammed and the two only paused to look at it.

"Run."

Simon didn't need to be told twice. They raced through. Rooms were open, almost like ones where the vampires slept; Jo could hear the wood of the dresser splinter impressively behind them. Jo picked up her pace, feeling her muscles burn. Simon suddenly turned and they were in some kind of parlor room, another old-fashioned glimpse into history. Simon didn't stop and went into some circular little alcove covered with a curtain. Jo pressed close to him as he parted the velvet hangings, its soft fabric brushing against Jo's face and making her shiver.

Simon pointed down, and Jo peered over the edge. She could see the grand staircase entrance from where they first came in. It was directly below them; they were on the balcony. Jo gripped the railings tight. Gilt frame came off in her hand. It was too high to jump down, at least not without taking some serious damage, which would make it difficult to crawl back up the grate-

"I commend your tenacity."

A pair of slight arms encircled her. Raphael pressed himself tight against her, and Jo shook with disgust.

"But it was hopeless from the very beginning."

She watched as more vampires came out of the curtain, rippling forward like some obscene nightmare as pale, horrible face stroked the velvet as they moved towards Raphael. Simon swung the bar and when one of them grabbed it, their hand burned. They cried out in anger. Simon wildly struck out, and one of the bolder vampires finally rushed forward, grabbing the bar and throwing it out of reach. He bleated in terror as they encircled him, and Jo could not move in Raphael's grip.

"You son of a bitch!" she spat at him.

Raphael only smiled. "It will be painless." he nodded to the others. "You may have him."

They cried out happily, drowning out Simon's cries. Hands grappled for him, and he was being pressed together against cold bodies and she could no longer see him. They took him away. They, almost as one being, jumped off the balcony.

"Simon!"

Jo struggled anew; Simon's screaming triggering fresh jolts of anger and terror. Raphael gripped her neck in a vice.

"Enough." His voice was still soft. "You will watch this."

The vampires had pounced, it was a flurry of movement and not being able to see Simon, but hear him so clearly made it even worse. He was going to die-

Jo slumped in Raphael's arms, and she felt his grip relax. She could feel her eyes narrow as her surroundings got blurrier.

'Dad, what would you do? I…'

Her eyes dully registered the scene before her, the monsters sprawled on top of Simon is some sick dog pile, their satisfied grunting couldn't possibly drowned out the awful sucking and slurping noises, or that Simon's voice was getting higher and higher, enough to cause Jo's ears pain. She let her gaze travel to the boards and tarp. It was all the way across the room from the balcony, and she remembered seeing them from the outside…

'"They came in through the windows-" '

Simon's voice unexpectedly rang through her mind. It gave her an idea, and she slumped down, as if all her strength had finally ebbed. Raphael managed to hold onto her before she fell onto the carpet. Her fingers were shaking and she bent down her head, feeling her neck ache and her hair tangle next to her face. When she looked up, Raphael was staring at her. She tried not to whimper. He hoisted her up, and she tried to struggle, but she was ultimately pliant.

"Now it is time for you."

As Raphael bent her forward, she realized she could no longer hear Simon. Raphael played with the strands of her hair, almost as if he were comparing them to his own. He admired them for a moment before gently brushing her hair away from her neck. She trembled when his lips pressed against her neck. His mouth was chilled and he was nuzzling into her. She kept her lips clamped firmly down as his nose brushed against her jaw line.

"Relax."

His voice was intoned with something, and Jo shuddered. His fingers suddenly moved and fixed her jaw in place. He had just enough space to stroke her cheek with his thumb. He had made her lips purse with the tips of his fingers. She felt the holy water slosh in her mouth as he looked into her face. He pressed his lips against hers, and she shuddered from their coldness. She whimpered at his touch, but he was forcing her lips open. Jo leaned into him, and kissed back. She blew hard, the liquid moving like a river and flowed from one mouth into another. Raphael made a gurgled noise of surprise and pain as the water scorched his mouth. Raphael tried to resist, but Jo pressed harder, forcing her tongue inside, pushing the water back down and into his throat. He gagged loudly, unable to force the water back up. Jo coldly looked into his eyes as his own started to roll back up into his head-

Jo pushed him off, and he stumbled back and slumped over. She grabbed one of the velvet curtains, bunching it tighter in her hands as she put her feet over and on top of the railing. She wobbled precariously, but she kicked off and she was suddenly swinging through the air.

Jo felt like one of those superheroes, the velvet curtain billowing behind her like a cape. Of course, if she really was one, than she'd have way better super powers. The ground was coming in faster. Jo slid, her feet skimming over the carpet. She felt the impact before she realized it, and it made her shake all over. She felt her feet thump onto the ground as she let go of the curtain. Jo hit the ground running. It was still a few yards away.

The vampires must have heard her, but she didn't think about it. She pumped her arms and legs like a marathon runner. Shouts and screams were behind her, and Jo clamped back her terror, willing the sounds to fade away. Her vision tunneled, leaving only the finish line to be seen. She could feel the blackness surrounding her, pressing against her body like a sheet. Only her heartbeat sounded in her ears, and she could no longer see the blackness. Fingers were brushing her, but she pressed forward, muscles screaming hysterically, and-

Her hands gripped tarp. Jo's fingers slid frantically, slicked with sweat and she nearly cried out and then she remembered-

Her knife. Somehow, her fingers were sure and steady as she pulled out her slim knife. She stabbed the tarp, feeling it give with every fiber of her being. She dragged the knife downward, and a rip appeared. She squinted; something bright was behind it, hard and sure. Jo tugged fervidly, like a kid unwrapping presents at Christmas and the tear was bigger and bigger until she used all her hands, every ounce of strength going into them.

The tarp came loose, and it poured in, like beams from Heaven-

Sunlight.

She gasped; she had been in the dark so long that it hurt her eyes and she blindly slashed at the remaining tarp. Her feet connected with the boarded up windows. She ignored the screams as the wood gave and splintered, she picked up the felled boards and used them to wrench open the remaining ones.

She peered inside; now that her night vision had been ruined. Sounds rushed back to her, and she realized that the screaming was coming from the vampires; they had moved away from the windows, but the light wouldn't leave anything unalleviated. It touched the carpets, stairs, banisters, furniture, and vampires.

Jo stared in shock. The vampires were burning. Not, burst into flames type of burning. It was as if they were lit up from the inside, and red patches were blooming all over their bodies, skin bubbling over, popping like bacon over a stove. Their skin slicked with sweat, as if fevered. Some were starting to steam, as if they were boiling beneath the surface and some scratched at their skin. They were a bunch of screaming, writhing lobsters, unable to escape the boiling pot that was the sun. It was as if they were in too much pain to move far away.

Smoke rose out of their ears and mouths roiling and rising. The stench was unbearable. The redness was turning dark in some places, charring and drying along wet flayed skin. Parts of the skin that hadn't been blackened were starting to slough off, blood bubbling, heated and unable to heal.

Few were managing to limp or crawl away. Black skin crackled as they moved, making them moan in pain. It was hard to find a place that hadn't been touched by the blood red sky. Jo looked down at her knife. W.A.H blazed like a ring of fire surrounding a blade that looked drenched in blood. Jo dashed back inside; Simon was clearly illuminated and completely motionless.

The vampires scooted away from her as if she were a piece of the sun, broken off and moving into their home like a righteous band of fire. Jo could feel the sun on her back as she bent down to Simon. She winced when she felt the puckered, swelling holes where he had been bitten. Jo gasped; she felt a pulse. It was faint, but tenuous-

A scream made her look up. A vampire with a charred face made to move forward. His teeth gleaming white against the rest of him, eyes reddened and crazed. Jo tensed-

"Stop."

The voice was thin and labored, but it was Raphael's. Jo couldn't see him, but he sounded as if he could barely stand himself. A banister groaned. She didn't know what was going to happen next.

"Wait."

Jo turned.

"Simon!"

Simon could barely lifted his head, and he gave her a weak smile and he looked in what Jo assumed was Raphael's direction.

"Just-" Simon rasped.

He seemed to be sharing something with Raphael, looking into the blackness at something Jo couldn't see, and a strange thrill went through her. It seemed to take an eternity.

"I see." Raphael finally spoke. "Very well."

TMISPN

Clary was running; she was desperately searching for the other half. The ground beneath her feet was grassy and soft, and the countryside was so pretty that normally she'd stop to sketch it, but not today.

Buildings rose, and Clary couldn't tell if they were skyscrapers or something else. Her feet scraped across sand as she heard splashing. She blinked rapidly; her vision had seemed to waver suddenly, like a TV trying to get better reception, but it was over as soon as it came and she could see clearly again.

She was standing on a beach, but there was a fountain-one she had dreamed of before. With the mermaid and when she danced there with Jace…and a figure was there as well.

"Jace!" she shouted.

She knew at once that it was not him. She did not understand how she could have mistaken it for Jace. For one, it was taller and somehow much more beautiful. Something about how it rippled with power, and could take to the skies-

It turned and it was her mother. Her hair was pulled away from her face, tied into a gentle bun at the nape. It was held together with pencils, just as Clary remembered it would be. She was wearing a white dress that Clary had never seen before, but it made her look slim and girlish.

Clary cried out, feeling tears in her eyes. She raced to her, into Jocelyn's outstretched arms. Clary felt them encircle her and finally found her home, but-

"Oh!" she pulled back suddenly. "Mom have you seen my-"

"There will be enough time for that later, darling."

Clary mewled as her mother stroked her face. She just wanted to stay like this, and never go anywhere else. Clary felt another pang of something beneath it, almost like longing, but she had no idea what it was-or where it could be found. She just wanted her mother to hold onto until the feeling became bearable, to hold off leaving home-

"They are coming."

"What? Who-"

But Jocelyn had pulled out one of the pencils, and her hair tumbled down. The sky lit up each initial strand, thickening her hair and suddenly red, gold, blonde, brown, and black appeared. Clary blinked hard; she could have sworn she saw something behind her mother, something-

Jocelyn was holding her wrist steady and she pressed the pencil to Clary's arm. She was drawing something, and Clary felt a tiny stab of contentment behind a larger swell of homesickness that competed with a yearning that Clary knew could drive her mad-

Clary looked at the burning on her arm, and feelings too strange flitted past, too fast to get a hold of and examine. She looked up. Her mother was gone, and she cried out, feeling the loss all over again, and she was cut off from everything she had a right to-

The ground began to shake. Clary looked wildly around; the landscape changed drastically. The water was bubbling over, steam rising, and the water itself writhed as if something was waking up. Cracks were appearing in the ground, and wind began to blow, sucking air downwards. Clary screamed, trying to avoid falling into the abyss that appeared. The sky blazed, and she looked up. Streaks of heated lightening were falling through the sky, and Clary could have sworn she heard the clanging of swords.

Gravity yanked itself out from under her, and she fell. The chasm yawned beneath her and she screamed as she saw the sky unhinged itself from its moorings and begin to fall with her. The wind tore away her screams, but it couldn't tear away the awful ringing, as if something-or someone was calling for her and she blindly reached for the voice-

"Clary!"

She gasped, as through her lungs were still on fire. Clary saw her hand was still outstretched, groping blindly for what wasn't there anymore. The sound, the nearly familiar-

"That ringing! I-its-"

"The doorbell." came the dry reply.

Clary turned. It was Jace staring up at her, regarding her with gold eyes. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her in sadness or confusion. Her dream was fading, and she nearly cried out again. Instead, she sat up, and avoid Jace's stare; she was feeling heated again, and it competed with the roiling emotions that the dream stirred up. She felt too full, and she might burst with despair.

"Of course it's the doorbell, what else would it be? That's what woke me up…"

Jace gave her another long look, and she wanted to snap at him to cut it out. Instead she made for the door, and he quickly overtook her.

"It's my house, I'll answer my door."

Jace sounded too moody to be joking, but he still smiled. The ringing became more frantic, and the two hurried down. Jace hurried down the pew's alleyway. The brightly lit candelabras burned at Clary's eyes and she watched Jace's back briefly flex as he pushed opened the doors.

Clary stared. She ignored the twilight sky, the candles behind her, and the smell of incense. She completely ignored Jace. What she was looking at was too impossible to be happening. Awful sweaty, bloody, and torn-things. She felt her vision blur and tunnel. She gasped for air; her lungs were on fire, and there could be no comfort gained, even from her burned arm. Faces looked at her, but somehow looked monstrous; the one person she wanted to look at her was still and limp. She felt sick; her stomach full of horrible wiggling things, but when she opened her mouth, all that came out was a scream.

"Simon!"

TMISPN

TBC…