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.

4. A lengthy explanation

Disclaimer: Nope, anything recognizable is something that I don't own.

Warnings: Language for this one. Mild crack-don't want to spoil anything by telling you why.

Word count: 38,948

Chapter 4: A lengthy explanation.

The crowd was screaming, their voices rose into one giant frothing roar. It had to be forced into the background to be able to concentrate. Spectators didn't bother to listen to the commentators that babbled to each other, clutching thick microphones. The only thing they cared about was the intense action happening below.

The two opponents faced each other on opposite sides, looking harassed and grim. They stared only at each other. Tension was thick and noticeable. The commentators picked up on that and began another round of talk.

"Well, folks it's getting right down to the wire!" the first one cried.

"I agree!" said the second. "With that last move, Sam Winchester has been put on the ropes."

"He's been playing well, but now the tables have been turned!" the first replied.

Dean swiveled to face the commentators' box.

"Oh shut up!"

He turned back at the large field in between him and Sam. He rolled his eyes and made a face.

"Feel like giving up yet?!" he shouted at Sam.

Sam looked back at him, and took one long look at the field. Its shortened grass was bare in patches, with huge ruts and ditches made from heavy impact. He could see the panting of exertion clearly from where he stood. Sam drew another one and he looked down at it. The small red and white ball was heavy as a stone. He looked back up, staring at Dean.

"Not even close." he threw the ball. "I choose you, Espeon!"

[PAUSE]

"Simon!"

Clary screamed. She could see Jo grimace at the sound but she didn't care. Jo was holding onto Simon, standing warily away from the vampire Raphael. She ran to them, ignoring Jace's shouts. Clary raced to Jo's side; the woman was struggling to hold Simon, who was slumped motionless and was half on the ground, half in Jo's arms. Both were bleeding, although Simon more so.

Clary felt the weakening in her legs, as she sunk down onto the ground. The two girls laid Simon gently on the ground; he barely stirred. His eyes were closed, pinched tight and his face was taunt and pale. Clary could see puckered, swelling holes on his body-his neck. She could see past the irritated, damaged flesh and could see the tiny black pinpricks, watched oozing…stuff. Her insides curled at the thought of blood being anywhere but inside Simon.

She gagged, her throat making protest at the noise. She could hear Jo saying something, and blearily acknowledged that the other woman had pulled a knife. Jo had moved in front of her, but she could still see that Jo's teeth were bared at the Vampire. She almost looked like one herself. She was speaking, but the words were blurred. Jace was replying angrily, but Clary couldn't be sure at who. She glanced back at Simon, feeling another pain filled cry swirling in her throat. Her chest ached, longing to howl out its release.

'Oh, Simon I'm so sorry-'

"How can that be?!"

Clary wanted to ask that too, but Jo had beaten her to it. Clary pressed her forehead to Simon's. She wished he would open his eyes one last time; to say something, even if it was the most inane thing she ever heard-

"Why did you kill him?"

Clary didn't know who asked it, or if she did herself, but it was now in the open. She clutched Simon tighter, and she thought she felt a twitch.

"He is not-"

Raphael was interrupted by the sound of a moan. Clary glanced down, and nearly screamed again. Simon had twitched, and he was alive. She shook him gently. If she could just get him to open his eyes, then everything would be okay and she would never leave him again-

"But he will." Raphael spoke.

"No he won't." Jo intoned; her blade glinted in the candle light.

Raphael looked wary, but made no movement. He looked oddly pale for a vampire, and Clary didn't know why her mind picked out that detail. Raphael seemed tired, and his gracefulness was not present. Her eyes picked out Jo, who was still rigid and fierce.

"Wait-" Clary blinked hard.

She wanted her clarity back, if only to save Simon. She owned him that and more.

"Your friends-the guys. Can you get them here?" Clary asked Jo. "Can they help Simon?"

"Clary." Jace began.

"A phone. I need a phone." Clary searched wildly for hers before remembering that it was in Jace's room.

"Clary-" Jace tried again.

"A phone!" she shrieked.

Jace looked agonized, his face looking bleached of color and he tried to reach for her, but Clary pulled back from him. She ignored the spasm of hurt on his face. Simon needed her help, not Jace. Clary nearly snarled when Jace got too close and she turned to Jo.

"I-think it's-" Jo looked suddenly lost, her free hand groping her pockets.

Clary's heart sank. She bit back sobs, feeling her teeth cutting into her lips. She clutched onto Simon, and she heard Jace speak again, slowly with his hands in the air, like he was surrendering.

"Ok, I'll get your phone, just-stay-" he regarded Jo and Raphael. "Don't move. Do not do anything."

Clary didn't concentrate on anything else. She dimly heard Jace retreating back, to get the phone. No one said anything, and Clary willed her spirit to Simon, trying to get him to open his eyes. She was aware that Jo was still next to her, and beneath it all a small part of her was grateful for the protection. Clary dimly wanted to ask what happened, how had this happened, and why wasn't she doing the protecting. Simon was her-

"Here"

Clary started violently, and this time she did snarl at Jace. He dropped the phone, nearly springing away from Clary. She picked up the phone, but her hands were shaking too badly to dial. Besides, she didn't even know their number. Wordlessly she handed it over to Jo. Not once taking her eyes off Raphael, she began to dial and was quickly speaking. Clary didn't bother to listen as she stared hard at Raphael.

"Explain this vampire." Jace demanded.

Clary could see he brought a seraph blade with him. She had no idea how it got there, and she was aware that Jo had probably never seen one before, but she had shut the phone already.

"They'll be here soon."

Clary wanted to shout that soon wasn't good enough, that Simon needed help now, but strangely it was Raphael who beat her to the punch.

"He will be dead in moments." his voice was calm despite everything.

There was a screech of brakes and sudden running. Dean, Sam, and Cas had arrived. Clary stared in surprise; they had come sooner than expected and were armed. Jo didn't look surprised, but Raphael raised an eyebrow. They pointed their guns at Raphael.

"No he won't" Jo replied.

"Better get goin' now." Dean growled, and his smile was frightening.

Raphael raised his hands. "I was merely giving him back to the Shadowhunters. I knew that he was an acquaintance of theirs, and by sparing him, I could spare myself." he looked warily at the people who had encircled him. "Clearly I was mistaken."

"Wait-" Clary looked up. "How -"

"The only way to save your friend is to let him become one of us-a vampire."

The response was immediate. Clary pressed herself against Simon, and felt her lips pull back. She longed for a weapon.

"What about Cas?" Jo or Jace asked. "Can he fix Simon?"

"I cannot. I am no longer able to." he sounded regretful.

Clary nearly screamed again. She looked down at Simon again. He looked strangely youthful, and she shook herself; of course he looked youthful. He was. Is. She gritted her teeth. She drew a shaky breath.

"Clary, I'm so sorry." Jace looked down at her.

Clary gasped so sharply, it a was a near scream; Jace was already saying to let go. Goodbye. Like it was no big deal that she would never see Simon smile, or laugh, play in his band, and buy his favorite videogames. He would never get to come over to Luke's, or see a movie with her-

So many things that would never get to happen again. Clary couldn't help howling, but she cut herself off. Her noises were reverberating off the walls, grotesque sounds being bounced back to her. Something deep inside her snapped, recoiling at the thought of a Simon-less world. This was something she could not, would not allow.

"No." she said it quietly. She didn't know how she managed that. She looked up at Raphael. "Ok do it."

Raphael looked warily as the others looked to and from each other. He looked at Clary, and she stared boldly back at him. He did this to Simon; he was going to fix it. Maybe that was why he nodded.

"All right."

"No Clary." Jace bent down to her. "I know that he is important to you, but this-this isn't-it won't bring him back." he struggled for words. "Sometimes-think about what-"

Clary looked up at him in renewed horror; what if she did let Simon become a vampire, would he be the next thing Jace would hunt? This was already too hard. Clary pulled Simon away from Jace, her mind swirling too fast to grasp anything. Suddenly walls closed in, with sharp mouths, ready to devour her and Simon. Clary felt all reason slip through her fingers, and she covered her body over Simon's and something deep and frightening and roaring overtook her.

"Leave us alone!" she shrieked, feeling her chest rattle. "I won't let you!"

Jace leapt back from her again, looking horrorstruck and hurt. "Clary, do you really think I would-" he seemed unable to continue.

Clary looked wildly around, not caring who heard her. "I don't care what he comes back as, as long as he comes back."

She felt tears on her face, and they were splashing onto Simon's, and she felt a new hardened resolve. He would open his eyes.

"No one touches Simon-or Raphael-" Clary choked. "He's gonna-"

"Ok, ok."

Jace was looking directly at her, palms up. He had put away his seraph blade and was looking right at her. He was moving slowly, speaking slowly. Clary felt momentary confusion as to why. Jace looked scared. She opened her mouth, frightened what might come out, but something deep inside told her to keep her hackles up. Clary felt strangely pleased that no one was able to get near Simon.

"You will have to let go of Simon." Raphael said.

Clary whipped her head in his direction, letting her eyes narrow; he appeared unruffled.

"There are certain requirements, and they will not be met here." he explained. "He needs to be taken to a cemetery."

The two hunter men look ready to voice something, but Jo silenced them with a look, and gave them some kind of meaningful conversation with a facial expression. Clary didn't feel like examining that at the moment.

"Fine. It has to be a Jewish one though." she said. "He'd like that."

Raphael gave a nod. "Secondly, he needs blood."

"Not from a person." Clary quickly replied. "Just find something else."

At that Raphael appeared chagrinned, but merely nodded. Jace gestured for the phone, and Jo tossed it to him. He dialed quickly, but Clary stopped listening and she turned away when he tried to catch her eye. Dean moved towards Clary, his hands still up.

"We've got towels in the car."

Clary stared at him.

"We're driving. It'll be a lot easier than carrying him and no one will ask anything."

Clary nodded.

"Ok." Dean turned to Sam and Cas. "It's cool."

Dean bent down to Clary's level, and put a hand on Simon's arm. He gave her a brief smile, and Clary had to struggle with herself to relax her grip on Simon. She almost cried out when Dean scooped Simon up. He did it so easily, and Clary wondered briefly how many times he had done this before. Simon didn't even cry out when Dean stood up, and Dean adjusted Simon in his arms, wincing a little. Clary stood up too, standing close. He nodded.

"We gotta hurry."

Clary nodded shakily. The two matched pace as they strode to the car. Raphael watched them all with an inscrutable expression. Clary rattled off the name and address of the cemetery that she knew Simon and his mom had been to before.

She helped Dean adjust Simon into the backseat, and she scrambled in next to Simon, and Jo on the other side of him. Dean exchanged a surprised look with her, but said nothing. Sam clambered into the passenger's seat.

Dean pointed a finger at Raphael. "I ain't takin' you. You meet us there."

Raphael shrugged. "Very well. Just hurry."

Dean glared at him but said nothing. Cas stood next to Jace, and both seemed intent on keeping an eye on Raphael. Dean slammed the door and started the ignition.

How do I get there?"

Clary dully recited the directions, and they sped off. She looked down at Simon, cradling his head in her lap, and she stroked his hair. She marveled at its softness. She looked over to see Jo pressing a towel over one of the bites.

"Can I have one?" she asked quietly.

Jo handed her one. "Just apply pressure on whichever one you think needs it."

The streetlamps illuminated the backseat in patches. It made Simon's skin look garish, while hers looked like peaches. She shuddered.

"What happened?"

Surprisingly, it was Dean who asked that. Clary looked at Jo out of the corner of her eye, and a streetlamp suddenly lit Jo up like a spotlight. Somehow she had aged. Jo took a breath.

"We were walking. We were going into a skuzzy neighborhood, but that didn't freak him out until we stopped in front of a hotel."

"The Dumort?" asked Clary, feeling her body become drenched in ice water sweat.

"Yes." Jo continued. "He freaked and I lost him. When I found him, he was going inside." Clary gasped. "I think he thought he was going to turn into one; he told me what happened the last time he went in."

"The last time?" Sam sounded appalled.

"What were you thinking?" Dean asked angrily.

Jo snapped back. "By the time I figured out what was happening, we had to fight our way out!"

"Well you should have called us-instead of going into a full nest all by yourself! That is what happened right?!"

"Yes! I'm sorry, but they weren't going to call a time out so I could call for backup!" Jo turned to Clary. "I'm so sorry. I should have done a better job."

"No its ok." Clary shuddered again. "It sounded crazy in there-I just wish. I'm sorry, because I should have been protecting him better. He shouldn't have needed it in the first place, he wouldn't have gone to that place if I was paying better attention." she got a better look at Jo. "You got hurt too, and I'm sorry. You were put in danger too; I know you're a hunter and all, but…"

"No, it's ok."

Clary was starting to recognize the feeling of helplessness, and she hated its familiarity. How in the world was it bearable? She was simply unable to do anything but watch as those she cared about kept getting hurt.

They pulled into the cemetery, gravel crunching and spitting as they made their way down the one lane road. Their headlights were the only ones visible. A figure was illuminated by them, and Clary could see that it was Raphael. Sam and Dean got out first, and Clary and Jo lifted Simon carefully. Clary scooted backwards out of her seat as Jo pushed Simon's feet forwards.

Clary could see Sam and Dean both look at the vampire with disgust. Raphael didn't appear to notice. He gestured for them to follow him.

"We have already picked out a spot for him."

SPNTMI

When they got there, Clary could see Jace, Cas, Magnus, and the Lightwood siblings were already there. Alec and Jace were both shoveling into the ground, their clothes already stained with dirt and sweat. Isabelle was gritting her teeth and Clary could tell even from her distance, that she was trying not to cry. Magnus stood beside her, his eyes watching Alec. Cas was scanning for them, and Clary saw that he never took his gaze off their own for a moment. His arms were full of what looked like bags of blood. Clary felt sick.

Jace nodded in greeting. "We're almost done."

Alec just panted with exertion as he tossed another shovel full of dirt onto the ground. Clary motioned to set Simon down, and she glanced around for another shovel.

"Any problems?" someone asked, probably just to say something.

Isabelle looked at Raphael through narrowed, tear glazed eyes. "The Clave will hear about this."

Raphael looked angered. "It is I who should be saying that to you. The Law states that anyone who trespasses on our territory is ours to do what we will with-"

At this, the hunters tensed, ready to draw their weapons. Jace leaned on his shovel, nothing moving except his eyes. Alec continued to shovel, but Isabelle had raised her wrist. Raphael looked furious now, but he continued speaking as if he wasn't surrounded by angry people.

Raphael gestured to Jo. "She trespassed, and nearly killed us all!"

"Not so fun when dinner fights back huh?" she taunted.

Dean pulled her sharply by the arm, but Clary could have sworn she saw an almost parental spark of pride in his eyes. Clary was suddenly reminded of Luke, and felt a fierce ache for him to be near.

"She is not a part of The Clave, she must be punished accordingly. After all, the Law is there for our safety as well-"

"Watch it." growled Isabelle. "The only thing protecting your life at this moment is the Law."

Raphael's eyes flashed. "I have a guarantee from your people. After all, it is the only way we can all live in harmony, correct?" he didn't wait for a response. "However, I have no such treaties with mundanes, especially ones who know of the Shadow World. That is something which sparks my curiosity."

The hole was deep enough and Alec gestured for Clary to bring Simon down into it. Clary and Jo hoisted Simon up, and moved him. Jace stopped leaning on his shovel and reached for Simon from inside the hole. Clary was reluctant to give him over to anyone else, but she hesitated for only a moment. She watched carefully to see Jace be gentle with him, and Jo had to tug her gently back as Jace climbed out of the hole. She turned away from their concerned eyes.

Alec jumped out of the hole, and he moved away from Magnus when the warlock tried to put his arms around him. Isabelle gave a quick sad glance in their direction, but made for Clary.

"Are you sure that you want to do this? That Simon would want this for himself, because Clary, the life of a vampire is-"

"Yes!" shouted Clary. "I know he isn't a precious Shadowhunter, but I'll protect him! I won't let him become a monster, he's still Simon. No matter what."

She could see others looking at her in surprise, and Dean picked up Jace's discarded shovel and began to fill the hole. With a shrug, Sam joined him. They exchanged another look as they piled the dirt on. They looked as confused as she felt.

"What's all this for?" she asked Raphael.

"For him to be properly risen as a vampire, he needs to be buried first."

Clary felt her dread build. "Then?"

"He must dig himself out."

"How? He was barely conscious?!" put in Jo.

"We shall see." Raphael replied.

When the ground was covered, Sam and Dean stepped back. They turned to Jo and began speaking.

"Ok, what happened?" Dean asked her.

Clary listened as Jo quietly gave a more specific retelling of what happened inside the Dumort. She flinched at the part where the two were trapped in the stairway. Clary wondered if anyone else was listening, or if Jo was too quiet. Clary honestly didn't care, but she was confused why they were being so quiet. Jo had finished with the words:

"If it had been only a few hours later, then that sunlight trick wouldn't have worked."

"What I want to know is why it even worked at all. Sunlight isn't supposed to hurt that much." Dean said.

"Holy water worked on them too." Jo replied.

"Wait-that isn't-" Sam cut himself off.

Clary was confused. She stared ahead, but was straining to hear them.

'They are hunters, so why would this confuse them? Even I know this stuff, or well some of it-'

"I know. Lore says that is all a bunch of crap, so why would it suddenly work?" Jo asked. "Or about this burial stuff? I have seen vampires turn."

"Yeah." Dean replied. "Hell, I remember when Gordon turned-it only took a few hours."

Clary felt another chill go through her.

'Gordon? Turning? Well, just what are they talking about, that doesn't sound like vampires to me. Either they really are crazy, or they know something we-'

"Working theory," Sam spoke up. "Either these aren't vampires at all, or they are entirely new vampires."

"Ones' that we haven't even seen before?" Dean countered. "Why?"

"The apocalypse maybe? Maybe it's affecting the monsters…" Sam shrugged.

They continued to talk amongst themselves, but Clary had heard enough. She shivered, and a part of her did want to ask just what the hell they were talking about, but another part of her cautioned against it. They were speaking to themselves and it was obvious that it was for them only. Clary avoided looking directly at them or Jace for that matter.

A sudden scraping made everyone tense. Only Raphael was calm and he stood closest to the makeshift grave. The sound was getting louder, until it became clear that it was nails pulling at dirt. Simon. Clary felt herself make some kind of sound and she hurried forward to help him get out. Raphael held her back with a one slender arm.

"This is something he must do by himself."

Clary tried to push past Raphael, but he was a statute fixed firmly in place. The dirt on the topmost layer was shivering, and began to tumble down the pile. Clary peered anxiously over Raphael's shoulder, shivering at his proximity. She jumped when she felt someone behind her. It was Jace.

"Are you sure that you want to watch this?" his voice full of caution. "Simon…won't be himself for a while."

"He'll be fine." Clary replied. "We'll be fine." she added, placing emphasis on 'we'll'.

Clary turned to look at all those behind her. Faces full of sadness for her and Simon, and grim with the dark, some were looking inscrutable. Cas looking mournful, but with a touch of something else, both Sam and Dean looked as though they understood, and Jo looking pained. Isabelle was grasping Alec's hand tightly. Magnus looking on seemingly detached. Jace was staring straight at her. She felt her insides quiver, but she looked past him. These people were in pain, had known pain, but somehow dealt with it. Envy briefly flared inside her; how did they handle it all? She tried to meet all their gazes. This was important, and she wanted to be strong. To prove that she could be too and stand next to them.

"Yes." she felt her teeth clench. "I want to watch."

She turned back, unable to continue looking at them all. Fingers were immerging, cracked with dirt and crusted with dried blood. They wiggled in the air, like a horrific parody of a greeting. Slender wrists came next, and they were so dirty, it was hard to see any of the skin they covered. They struggled upwards, and Clary was reminded of a flower stalk pushing up from a crack in a sidewalk. Arms burst out, flailing wildly.

It was like a bad monster movie, black and white creatures that attacked bad acting, screaming women. Clary shuddered, rubbing her arms frantically; this was not television, and the monster was Simon. There was no one to walk out of the theater when it finished, no one to laugh with afterwards.

The upturned earth was heaving, as though it were alive and taking huge gulps of air. Strange snarling and snuffling was muffled beneath it, and then it picked up pace and began to get more frantic. It was starting to cry out, a helpless sound. Clary was oddly reminded of babies, and hearing the sound with what she was seeing was beginning to terrify her.

Raphael suddenly moved away from Clary, and moved to Cas. The latter tensed when the former came forward. Cas looked ready to bare his teeth at Raphael, but the vampire didn't remark on it. He merely opened his hands.

"The blood."

Cas seemed to ripple with tension, and he wordlessly handed the bags over to Raphael. Clary could have sworn his arms were shaking. Cas didn't unwind from his stiffened pose until Raphael was a good distance away. He ignored the odd looks he was getting from the three hunters.

Clary watched Simon struggle to free himself from his grave, stumbling out of it. He gave a growling whine as he fell back into the hole, and Clary longed to reach in and pull him out. She edged closer to the hole, watching Simon wriggle and stumble inside. He seemed unable to stand properly. Maybe they were like newborn horses; they struggled to stand for the first time in their lives. Clary poked her head farther into the hole. She had seen, out of the corner of her eye, Raphael tear one of the blood packets open.

At the sound, Simon lifted his head up. His eyes met Clary's. They were round, and without his glasses, they looked big and vulnerable. They were the same dark color as always, but now it was more apparent that they had color. They were familiar, and Clary nearly cried with relief; Simon was alive, and could look at her again. But there was something…off about them. He never gave her such a look. Childlike curiosity, but something hungry and feral…

"Simon?"

He perked up at his name, and his fingers flexed. His look was so intense, but very helpless. He opened his mouth wide, and gave another screeching, plaintive cry. Clary could see his new teeth gleaming white. He bared them and growled in a pained frustration.

"He is hungry."

Raphael's voice made her jump, and she could see Simon watching her every move. Clary felt a thrill of fear jolt her system, before she was overcome with guilt. She reached for the open packet, and saw that Raphael was too surprised to react, and she grabbed it from him, ignoring his protests. She just wished everyone would shut up already.

She turned back to Simon. His cries had been getting progressively louder, and now they had become unbearable. He was scrambling and screeching; she wondered if he could smell the blood, and not being able to find it was what was causing his wild movements.

"Simon." she called softly.

He looked up, fast enough that his neck must have cricked in complaint. He stared back at her, and she was unnerved by what she saw. She lifted up the packet of blood, and watched him follow it with his eyes. She shook it once. The liquid sloshed and Clary felt the bile rise in her stomach, but Simon hopped a little. Clary had another twisted thought: Simon was like a puppy waiting to be fed. She couldn't help the hysterical giggling as she waved the bag at him.

"Here. Come here…good Simon." her crooning just made her giggle harder.

Simon sprang out of the hole and scrabbled onto the dirt piled next to it. Clary had to stop a scream from coming out of her mouth; she hadn't anticipated his speed, or sudden focus. He leapt on top of her, and she thrust the blood packet at him. He did not grab it from her with his hands, but rather his mouth. She clamped her mouth shut, her scream locked tight inside. Simon was scraping at the bag with his teeth.

"No no, use your hands." she tried to pry it away from him. "Like this, see."

Simon made another strange noise and Clary nearly wailed. Her fingers fumbled with the bag, and Simon struggled to get it back. She almost screamed at him, but she managed to pull the bag open, and blood sloshed onto her shaking hands and wrists. Clary choked her throat convulsing as Simon leapt at it. His didn't use his hands to steady it, but tried to dive his whole head into the small bag. Clary tried not to push him away as she felt his teeth brush against her skin when he struggled to break open the bag. She tried as best she could, to tip the liquid into his open cavernous mouth. He quickly drained it all and screamed for more.

"Hang on."

She flinched when she felt his tongue rasp over her bloodied hands and wrists. Any other time and she would have laughed, but now she had to prevent her entire body from leaping away from him. He whined piteously as she hurriedly tried to grab another blood bag. She felt a sharp stab of pain in her arm. Simon had stopped snuffling about her, and bit her instead.

Clary shrieked, and suddenly she was in the air. She landed with a thump at the feet of the others. She felt their hands trying to assess damage, but she ignored them, instead looking over at where she used to be. Raphael had tossed her out of the way and was feeding Simon himself. He was actually crooning to Simon, and it could have been mocking, but there was something about his expression that she found alarming.

"Not so fast, drink up little fledgling."

"Fledgling?"

Surprisingly, it was Cas who asked that and it was spoken in a disgusted tone. As if he found the term itself particularly offensive.

"Yes." answered Raphael. "That is what we call those who have just been reborn."

It was a poor choice of words. Clary felt the ripple of disgust through the group. She didn't blame them. Fledglings are supposed to be cute, fluffy baby birds. Not young vampires writhing in the dirt, begging for blood. She felt her stomach clench and she willed herself not to throw up. Clary felt her body convulse and flame with shame, and she couldn't hold back her sob.

Clary made no move to get up; the ground was cool beneath her heated body. She wanted to flinch away from everyone, make them disappear. She didn't want their comfort or deserve it. The breeze suddenly blew through making her shiver, and it almost felt good, and she was reminded of the fact that this was a cemetery and a perfect place to curl up. Someone pressed a hand on her back; she didn't know who, or care. She just pressed her face into dirt and wished the nightmare would end.

SPNTMI

As Clary walked the halls of the sterilized linoleum, she felt her dread grow. She felt like she was about to walk into a confessional. Not that she had ever been in one, but she'd seen enough TV, and read enough books to get the gist. She shook her head to clear it; she was just visiting her mother, nothing more. Ever since the fight at Renwick's, her mother Jocelyn had been here. It was a pretty decent hospital, with a competent staff, and the only downside was that they had horrible coffee.

She made her way past the front desk, and the café. Clary knew the route to her mother's room by heart. It was a grey room, and when she entered, she'd shut the door behind her. It was still the same, with its fading colors, and beeping machines. The only thing that had any vibrancy was her mother's red hair, but even that seemed to be fading. Her mother never opened her eyes when Clary came to see her. She looked so calm, and it was unlike her. Not that Jocelyn was never a calm person, but she always had an energy about her, something that made her seem alive and real.

Now she was quiet and still, looked pale, somehow less than what she was and Clary wondered if it was because of the spell she was under, or it was just her imagination. She grabbed one of the chairs, letting its legs scrape on the linoleum tiles. It didn't do anything except hurt Clary's ears, and she sat down.

Nervous, Clary took a shaky breath. This felt important, and she had to get it right. She set her fingers next to her mother's, letting their fingertips nervously brush together. Clary clasped her hands around her mother's, and she shivered; Jocelyn's hand was cold, despite having a steady pulse beneath her skin. Clary rubbed it briefly to try and warm it up, and she began.

"Hey it's me, but maybe you knew that. I don't know. They say you can hear things, and that it helps. I wish you could talk back, and then this wouldn't feel so stupid. I know Luke talks to you, and it seems to help him. I wonder what it is he talks to you about, or what. I dunno what there is to say. I guess now would be a good time to tell you…"

Clary took a breath.

"I met someone. Or, well, lots of someone's. Shadowhunters. I know. I know all about what you had been trying to hide from me. I met Magnus Bane; he's a surprise isn't he? I wonder how it is you met him, or just how you knew everyone. Like Valentine; how in the world you ended up marrying him. What was your life like? Not just with him, but the whole time, all those years when I wasn't even born. There is so much you haven't told me, didn't share with me. Those someone's? Well they did. Alec, Isabelle, and Jace. If it wasn't for them I wouldn't even be alive. They helped me so much."

Clary squeezed Jocelyn's hand, and continued.

"And Simon too. He never left my side, even when he should have. I almost left him behind, but he still got caught up in this mess. He's…he's not the same anymore. He got turned into a vampire. It was the only way to save his life. It was so close, if Jo hadn't been there-"

Clary laughed nervously. She could no longer tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing that her mother couldn't reply.

"She is a hunter, a mundane that knows about the Shadow World. She has two friends, or well partners, I think. A pair of brothers named Sam and Dean. They're a little bit older than us, but good guys. I don't know how they know all this stuff, but apparently there are mundanes-or hunters, really who know what Shadowhunters know-for the most part-and fight them. Did you ever know this? I wonder if you would have been as surprised as the others."

Clary gritted her teeth.

"Anyway, if it weren't for Jo, Simon would have died. I hope he can ever forgive me for what I've done to him. I'm a bad friend, and even worse sister. I have family. Valentine is the man who fathered me, and raised Jace-my brother. Why didn't you tell me about them?!"

She struggled to get her voice under control.

"I wish I knew-met them in a totally different way, and then maybe-anyway. I guess it doesn't matter. They saved me. If it wasn't for them, I'd be dead. Still could be. Oh mom! Valentine is still after us, and there isn't much we can do. He is planning something horrible, and he has the Mortal Instruments! He has already done so many bad things, and I don't know what I can do-"

Clary bowed her head, letting their hands touch her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"The only thing I can do is find a way to wake you up. So please-just hold on for a bit longer."

A sudden knocking made Clary jump as if her chair had been electrocuted. She turned to see Luke, one hand carrying two cups of coffee that he had stacked together and with the other, he was opening the door.

She wanted to be mad at him for interrupting, but she didn't know what else there was to be said. Clary wondered how long he had been there and whether he had been waiting for her to finish. She felt a sudden rush of affection for him. Luke was dependable, and he'd always stay the same. He was wearing his usual outfit. The worn jeans and flannel, now with a heavier jacket over them. His huge workman boots clomped over the tiles. He handed her one of the cups before pulling up a chair himself. Luke ran a hand through his graying hair.

"When did you get here?" Clary asked him.

"Not long."

They didn't say much, but Clary didn't care. They didn't have to. It was only until much later that Luke got up, kissing her on the top of her head.

"It's going to be alright."

Clary stood up to follow him, and squeezed her mother's hand.

"See you later."

SPNTMI

Jo pulled change out of her pocket and fed the machine. She quickly dialed, and didn't have to wait long to hear a voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Hey mom."

"Joanna Beth Harvelle, we agreed that you'd call in sooner than this-"

"I know, but I lost my phone on a job."

"A job? I thought you were already on one with the boys-"

"I am, but I got sidetracked. Look, I'm on a payphone, so I can only give you a brief rundown till I geta new phone."

"I'm listening."

"We got the colt. We might have a lead on the devil, but there is nothing definite. We met some people, and this'll be hard to believe-but they call themselves Shadowhunters, and they aren't hunters but something different."

"You're gonna have to explain this one to me."

"Yeah. Haven't ever come across em' before, and they were surprised to learn about hunters, which sounds like even though we pretty much do the same thing, they don't run in the same circles as we do."

"What does this have to do with the colt or the devil?"

"We don't know yet, but Cas thinks something's up. Mom, even he's confused."

"I can be there in about a day-"

"Oh, Mom don't. It's okay, even with the vampires-"

"…Vampires? Jo-"

"Mom, it's okay, Dean already reamed my ass about that. I'm sure he can tell you all about it-"

"Oh he will."

"Mom. Seriously, it'll be okay. I'll tell you when we've got something to go on."

"You better. I'll see you when you do, believe me."

"I know. I'll see you later."

SPNTMI

It wasn't long, almost a day afterwards that a call for the Institute came in around the same time that the police scanner the Winchesters owned had started with an odd message. It was shockingly similar. Mundane police were baffled, and it was suspicious enough that it registered to the Lightwoods' at the same time. The Pandemonium Club was having some kind of trouble; no one was sure what was going on.

"Oh-my God!" the voice on the radio crackled to life, static hissing.

"What is it? What seems to be the problem?" the calmer dispatcher asked.

"I-I'm not even sure but, its just-just bring all the squad cars!"

"Alright. Just sit tight."

It wasn't long after that one of the bouncers, who happened to be a Downworlder, had called the Institute, with a similar attitude. His baffled replies to Mayrse Lightwoods' queries put her on edge.

"Can you at least describe what is happening?"

"…I'm not sure. I thought it was just a bunch of kids doing something crazy, but I've been hearing rumors about what's been happening-"

"Alright alright. Someone will be there shortly. Just keep the mundanes occupied."

"Er…yes."

Which is how it came to be that Sam, Dean, Cas, Alec, and Isabelle hurried as fast as they could to one of the most popular Downworlder haunts. The Impala parked a ways away, and they strode quickly to the figures that were becoming familiar. The Lightwoods didn't look as surprised to see the Winchesters and Castiel this time around.

"You got here fast." Isabelle remarked.

"Police scanner." Dean replied.

"So this must be more serious than we thought." Alec mused.

"What do they know about this place?" asked Sam.

"They think it's just a teen club, but really it's a place where Downworlders mingle with mundanes, some of whom get a little too close to the Shadow World for their own good." Alec explained.

"Think that's what happened?" Dean asked.

"Guess we'll find out." Isabelle remarked. A crowd was forming, but there didn't seem to be any police officers. It just seemed like any other night with rowdy, confused teenagers. Isabelle grabbed at their sleeves and headed down to a side entrance. A large burly man was leaning against a wall-he looked annoyed, but there was something about his posture that said he was on edge.

"I'm not sure if this is just some sick joke or what but there are those things inside." he spoke when they approached.

"What things?" Alec asked.

The bouncer grimaced. "Mannequins, I think. They looked so real…just please tell me they're fake. I don't need this."

"Ok, we'll see what's what."

With Isabelle leading the way, they managed to push past the crowd. Dean had to squeeze past a group of boys wearing what looked like cellophane dresses and a girl with blue hair gave Alec a flirty smile. Inside the club was just as crowded, and the music and lights still pulsed. Dancers didn't seem to mind the oddly placed bodies. They were various creatures. Wolf-men, and Bela Lugosi-esque vampires, mummies and even faeries. Each one was obviously dead, their bodies splayed in odd positions, some in obvious comedic poses.

The only thing that really seemed disturbing was just how realistic the bodies looked, and some did actually look as though they had encountered something horrible before they died. Some people did look alarmed, and few screams showed their fear. One girl with purple skin was staring at a dead faerie body with a look of frightened disgust. A tall, biker looking boy was twirling the Bela Lugosi vampire body in time to the beat. He growled and playfully gnawed on the neck. The dark skinned girl next to him hit him on the arm.

"Bat, that's nasty. Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

Dean turned to look at the rest of their group. He could see the annoyance on .Alec's face, and he looked more affronted that his sister. He looked ready to give a sharp comment when Isabelle clinically inspected a body that had antlers growing out of its head. She poked it with one finger, and jumped when blue sparks fizzed out. She turned to look back at them.

"Well I seriously doubt Valentine is behind this."

Alec fixed her with an acerbic look. "Obviously. I'll go tell them there's nothing to worry about."

"No need, I'll do it."

Isabelle turned and began to take off, but Alec grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"This will take forever to clean up."

Isabelle shrugged. "Your fault for saying we should check this out."

"Well, I am the oldest. This will be a learning experience for you."

Isabelle snorted. "What do you call this?"

"Character building."

"I'll flip you for it." Isabelle was already reaching for a coin. "Heads or tails?"

Dean and Sam watched with amusement as Alec called the coin as if shimmered in the air. Isabelle slapped it on her palm, and made a face.

"See, the oldest wins every time."

Isabelle glared at Alec as he walked away to find the bouncers. Sam gave her a sympathetic grimace.

"We'll give the place the once over, just in case." he said.

"Knock yourself out."

Sam and Dean began to spread out as Isabelle walked over to one of the pretend corpses and corralled Cas into holding a mummy body for her. Dancers swayed to the beat, and Dean looked up to see that the DJ hadn't even bothered to look at the scene below him, his eyes closed as he bobbed his head to the music. Dean shrugged, and scanned the crowd. He could spot Sam, who easily stuck out from the rest with his jacket that was the only plain color in the pack. His brother was scanning, and he quickly caught Dean's eye and pointed in the direction of a small corridor in the back.

Together they made their way through the small entryway. It was lighted normally, and the ground was dirty from litter and shoe prints. There was a small doorway, the plaque rusted over, but the letters were still visible.

Employees Only

Dean gave the door knob an experimental tug. It gave easily, and he peered in. The ground was strewn with cable wire and trash. Cans of spray paint littered the ground, used already and thrown directly below the hastily scrawled graffiti. The room was small and it looked as if it hadn't seen any employees in a long time. Nothing really stood out from the room, and he carefully avoided the wires on the ground.

"Dean."

Dean turned and saw his brother straighten back up; he was holding some trash in his hand, and he held it up for Dean to see. Candy wrappers.

"So unless Valentine has a sweet tooth-" Dean started.

"We're dealing with the Trickster." Sam finished.

Dean grimaced. "How much you wanna bet it's the Trickster? I've been waiting a long time to get my hands on that son of 'a bitch."

Sam dropped the wrappers. "Hang on. What if we asked for his help?" he ignored. Dean's incredulous stare. "Come, he's one of the strongest creatures we've ever faced."

"Exactly why that's a bad idea." Dean rebuffed.

Sam seemed to consider this. "Ok, well lets' just ask anyway, and we'll kill him if we have to."

"I like that option. What's with you and monsters?" he shook his head.

Dean ignored Sam's dark look and followed his brother to the door. They walked back down the hall, and Dean vaguely noted that the music had changed. He frowned; they had stakes in the trunk, but he hadn't thought to-

A sudden roaring of an engine blazing past made Dean leapt back on instinct. The sound he heard wasn't music, but the cheering of a crowd. Stands jammed packed with people, their faces excited and some were jumping in their seats. Dean reached for his gun, but nothing was coming at him. He began to take in his surroundings.

It was a race track. Cars sped past, but something was wrong with them. They looked too…ridiculous. Everything looked strange; not the things themselves but their placement. Dean whirled; Sam should have said something by now-

"Sam?" he called. His brother was nowhere to be seen. "Sam?!" he shouted.

"Dean, over here!"

Dean turned to face the track. He could see the Impala; how he could have missed it beforehand was ridiculous, but maybe it wasn't there before. He couldn't see Sam in either the passenger or driver's seat, but he ran to his car all the same. A part of him must have thought Sam was inside because he climbed in and twisted around to see the backseat. No one was there.

"Dammit Sammy, where are you?" he muttered.

"Right here."

Dean shouted, jumping. He twisted back in his seat. There was no one there. Dean could still feel himself tense, but he tried not to show it.

"Ok, where is here?"

"I'm right-" there was a pause. "Ah crap."

Dean's mind took a step back and put the two together. He was in the Impala and Sam sounded as if he was right next to him, but it was like talking to the air-and getting a response. He looked to see if the car itself was any different. Not really, but his gaze wandered to the radio's AM/FM tuning frequency.

"The Trickster." Sam groaned.

The radio's needle jumped, and Dean started. It all clicked into place. Sam was the Impala. He slapped the steering wheel.

"Son of a bitch!" he shouted.

"…Ow."

"Er…Sorry." Dean looked down at the radio. "Any theories?"

"NASCAR?"

Dean glanced around, seeing pit crews and uniformed men racing around. Cars were pulling up. They were beginning to surround the Impala, and if Sam was still a person, he might have backed away. The cars were not sleek or streamlined, nor did they have any brand names painted on their bodies. They were tiny and compact, and downright goofy.

One pulled up next to them, and its driver was a man…creature with brightly colored armor, and he gave Dean a wicked grin from his steering wheel. On the other side of them, a blond woman wearing a frilly pink dressed had pulled up next to them. She waved to the driver that had driven up beside her, and Dean could see it was a large green lizard.

"Really f'ed up NASCAR." Dean replied, staring. "Hang on, is this-"

"Boys!"

A voice shouted, and Dean narrowed his eyes after his momentary surprise. The Trickster was waving to them, and he was walking towards them. The other drivers waved to him and called out greetings, and he yelled cheerfully back to them.

"Princess Peach!" he whistled. "Lookin good!"

The blonde woman giggled and blushed. Dean just stared. The Trickster smirked at him, and Dean barely suppressed the urge to hit the gas and run him over. The other man was walking to them, and when he got close, he ran one hand over the Impala, and he cocked his head to get a good look at the rest of the car. Dean kept his eyes on the Trickster; he didn't want him touching the Impala like that, and felt possessiveness and he struggled to reach for his gun. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could have sworn he saw the radio needle bounce. The trickster smiled as if he knew what Dean was thinking. He whistled again.

"Wow, Sam. Check out the rims on you."

For some reason, if Sam could have blushed he would have. He was oddly mortified, and his reply was harsher than usual.

"Oh eat me."

The Trickster's eyes flashed with something, but before he could respond, Dean spoke.

"Change him back." Dean growled.

The trickster screwed up his face in mock thought. "Hmmm. No."

Dean actually growled in response. The trickster didn't seem bothered at all, and he leaned on the Impala, peering at Dean.

"What'll you do if I don't? Shove something pointy in my face?" he drawled.

"We could use your help." Sam spoke up. "Please."

The trickster didn't seem as surprised as Sam thought he would be, and Sam took the man's silence as a means to continue.

"Like it or not, you're one of the strongest things we've ever faced." he sounded as he was admitting to an embarrassing secret.

The trickster made a face as if he was just realizing something. "Oh, so I'm supposed to do something for you."

Sam sighed, the reply was sarcastic and a little bit of something he wasn't able to identify. Dean snapped at the trickster.

"Look, you probably already know that the world-"

"Is gonna go boom?" The trickster raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, which is totally your fault by the way."

Sam knew Dean was about to shout, so he quickly intervened.

"We know. Which is why we're trying to stop it. We-"

Dean snorted; he let them both know just how much he thought of that.

Sam huffed impatiently. "Alright fine, I thought you wouldn't want to see this world end and you could help us out."

The trickster was looking at them with an expression that could have been inscrutable, but he seemed as if he was considering it, and Sam could have sworn he saw the man's expression darken before it was quickly smoothed over. Dean was glaring at him, intently waiting for a response and Sam knew if he wasn't car, he would be staring just as intently. There was something about the trickster's expression that, while not malicious or cunning, there was something dark and maybe-and then it was gone and Sam nearly cried out in frustration; he wanted to know what that was. The trickster heaved a theatrical sigh, and if Sam had eyes he would have rolled them.

"Well, if you insist-" he held up a hand. "First, you have to play the game, and then we'll talk."

"Game?" Dean looked incredulous.

"Yup."

"What game?" Sam asked.

"The one that's about to start."

There was a loud beep, and Dean looked up. A large box was held up; it had three colors, the red light flared briefly before it died out and the light moved down to the next colored ball. The second light blazed yellow and another beep followed. The engines of the cars flared to life, and Dean quickly turned back to the Trickster.

"What game?" he shouted as Sam called out. "How do we play?"

"You'll see. All ya gotta do is survive." he smile became teasing.

The last beep began as the light changed to green and a loud blare, like a fog horn went off. The cars sped off, moving around the trickster and the Impala. Cheers rose up from the stands. Dean looked wildly at the sudden movement and noise, and he glanced back to see the trickster raising an eyebrow in time with his smirk.

"Better hurry."

Dean looked at him, then to the track, with the cars that were quickly getting smaller and smaller.

"Son of a bitch!" He rasped hastily.

He rapidly put the Impala into gear and slammed onto the pedal. The Impala roared to life, and raced down the pavement. Dean didn't bother to look back; he knew the trickster would be long gone.

"Game my ass!" he shouted. "Next time, just gank the monster. How bout that?" he snapped.

"Oh, just go faster!" Sam yelled.

Dean pressed harder on the gas, and the resulting vroom was deafening. The track looked empty, but the small silhouettes of other cars were fast approaching. The flat line meant they were catching up to the other drivers quickly. Soon they were next to a large ape man, who gave them a wave as he attempted to pass them. The road was beginning to curve.

"Dean turn!" Sam shouted.

Dean grunted with the effort as he gripped the steering wheel tight. The wheel was shuddering with effort, and Sam sounded as if he was gritting his teeth. Suddenly they were surrounded by cars on the turn. They were packed tight in between the other racers and being jostled roughly.

"Just try not to-" Sam strained to speak.

"I know." Dean sounded just as strained.

Dean yelled as he was getting bumped from all sides, and he tried to ignore Sam's irritated groaning as he slammed into other cars in retaliation. The pressure was letting up as the road began to straighten again, and the driver with the colored armor bumped hard into the car next to him. Armor man laughed as the other car careened into two others, sending the three cars spinning out of control and slamming into the guard rail. They tumbled and flipped before slowing down in a grassy lane away from the road. The road was finally straight, and Dean gunned the engine further.

"Pass him." Sam suddenly directed.

Dean knew he meant. "Pass the guy who just took out three drivers?"

"Yeah. We'll have to some time."

"Fair enough."

Dean pedaled hard, suddenly shifting gear and they sped on. They were nose to nose with Armor, and could see him in detail. He was ugly and he grinned meanly at Dean, and Sam gasped. The man grinned, letting his engine gun with extra power, and Dean did the same, grinning at the challenge.

"Show off." Sam muttered.

The man suddenly sped up, and instead of hitting the Impala, he rammed the lizard driver ahead of them. The lizard man gave an oddly shrill cry of protest as he began to get pinned against the wall. Dean swerved to avoid the struggle and yelled when a tire suddenly flew past.

"Holy crap!"

"Now's our chance, keep going!" Sam shouted. "Pass Em!"

Dean shot forward; he could see the destruction of the lizard man's car and grimaced.

"Some game."

"Game." Sam repeated. "Game!" he shouted suddenly.

Dean jerked the steering wheel in surprise and had to serve, narrowly missing a man wearing red overalls; he shouted and gave Dean a rude gesture as he passed them.

"Gee, thanks for telling me." Dean deadpanned. "I couldn't figure it out."

"No really." Sam insisted. "It's a game. An actual game."

Dean blinked. "Wait, like a videogame?"

"Yeah." Sam was enthusiastic now. "Those guys we passed? Bowser and Yoshi."

Dean repeated the names. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"You might have played this game before-"

"What did he call that one chick? Princess Peach?"

"Yeah."

Dean passed the man in red, and braced for the turn.

"I don't really care what it's called, but have you played it?" Dean asked.

"Once. Ok, if I'm remembering right, you could choose how many laps you get. There's the basic three, then five, and then nine? Point is, it just keeps going up and up."

Dean groaned. "Please be three."

"If it is, then we've only got one left."

"You should have said that sooner!"

Dean began to jostle the other cars for an opening. He moved forward, finding an open spot before suddenly slamming backwards into the ape man's car. Ape man roared as he spun out of control and his car finally landed upside down in the grass.

"Did you see that!?" Dean cheerfully yelled.

"Show off."

Dean laughed and sped forward, swerving erratically to avoid the other cars.

"Ugh. Do you have to do that?" Sam moaned.

Dean laughed, but evened out and he pushed past a man in green, and narrowly avoided getting stuck in between two other drivers. The black and white checkered banner was waving up ahead. The drivers saw and began to zoom forwards. Shouts from the stands were shattering, and the racers were thinning out despite their determination. Somehow it became just the Impala and the tiny pink jeep belonging to Princess Peach. She was starting to overtake them, and Dean cried out in frustration.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "Behind us!"

Dean looked in the rearview mirror. Bowser was back and gaining speed. He was already nudging Princess Peach's bumper. She was yelling at the man as she tried to gain more speed. Dean swerved when the two got too close and Sam cried out when one of jeep's rims hit the hood of the Impala. Dean changed gears again, and pushed the pedal so hard, it touched the floor. It was at that moment that Princess Peach tried to veer into Bowser, but she missed and she skidded off the track, and Bowser finally lost control of his car. He fishtailed into the Impala before careening into a wall. The impact of his blow sent the Impala forward and they rocketed past the finishing line.

The cheering of the crowd heightened as people leapt up from their seats, and an announcer began shouting from somewhere, but neither brother cared.

"Brake!" Sam screamed.

Dean swerved to avoid a spectators stand as they barreled off the track at top speed. A road block didn't stop them and Dean tried to wrestle back control; people were mere blurs as he blared the horn on instinct. He slammed on the brake, but it didn't slow soon enough and he couldn't stop or turn in time to avoid the fence that blocked their path.

They hit it with enough force that Dean's teeth rattled, and he was slammed into his seat. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was reminded of a scene from a John Hughes movie, but he lost the thought as they slammed into the fence.

They were flying, and Sam's shouting was the only thing he heard. They slammed down with enough force to bounce back up when they hit the ground. Dean shouted as he tumbled back down into the grass, finally stopping when something solid could prevent him from moving. He heard Sam groan next to him, and when Dean opened his eyes, the Impala was nowhere to be seen.

"Sam?"

He heard his voice rasp, but he didn't care; the body next to him moved easily.

"Yeah I'm ok. Least I'm not a car anymore."

Dean craned his neck to see his brother, but all he could see were feathers and-

"Dean?"

Dean jumped at the voice. It was definitely Sam's, but it sounded weird. Almost like some kind of squawk. He could see the beak moving, but it was forming human words, clacking with the effort. The black beads were eyes and they regarded Dean with intelligence. It flapped wings experimentally and possibly with confusion. It craned its neck and looked down at itself. The wings flapped suddenly, almost like a human slumping its shoulders, and it sighed. A human sound coming out of a bird was quite possibly the strangest thing Dean had ever seen. His head was beginning to spin with the surreal combination.

"Dammit." it said. "Dean is that you?"

Dean was about to reply, 'Of course it is stupid,' but then he looked down at himself, and didn't see shoes but webbed feet, and he moved his arm, hoping to see the usual, but jumped back when feathers entered his line of vision.

"Oh my God."

The world went a little tilty as the bird-Sam quickly went over to him with wings outstretched. They touched his shoulders and Dean flinched.

"Take it easy."

Dean took a breath and the world became clearer again. He could see each blade of grass easily. If Sam could be a car, then he could be a bird.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"Let's survive first."

There was a snuffling sound, and the two moved closer together. The grass began to ripple and twitch. There was a sudden low growl before something huge burst through the grass. It began to bark, jaws snapping up and down. Its head was black and huge; it didn't look like a hound, but it dived at them.

"Fly!" Sam called.

"How?!" Dean shouted back.

The two jumped and hovered, narrowing avoiding the teeth that brushed their wings. Dean flapped his wings wildly as the dog's paws thundered over the ground, sending up plumes of dirt.

"Like this!"

Sam jumped at the dog, letting his wings batter the dog's face, and it howled in anger and Dean took his chance. He started to run, his feet making him stumble as he opened his wings, and let them flare outward. A breeze was beginning to swirl beneath them and he jumped. He shouted as he flapped his wings frantically, trying to stay up. The dog jumped, but he dodged, and angled himself so he could see behind him. Sam was across from him, and weaving tightly back and forth from the dog, that was whining in frustration.

"You ok?" he called.

Sam answered by flying closer to him, and Dean watched carefully as his brother's wings beat at a more sedate pace. The dog howled and circled the ground before them, baying loudly. It only jumped a few times, its tail raised high.

Dean laughed, or well it would have been a laugh, if birds could.

"Dude, you sound so weird." Sam commented.

"Shut up, you look-"

A sudden rip in the air sliced past them. The sound was loud and it cracked, only stopping when it hit a tree. The two fluttered, and the resulting breeze made Dean flap at the air in agitation.

"Damn birds!" a voice shouted.

Another whiz of deadly air went past, the smell of metal getting overwhelming. They were unharmed, but when Dean looked down he could see-

"Bobby?!" Sam cried out in confusion.

"Get outta my yard!" he shouted and he raised his rifle higher.

Another shot went off. It rang through the air, and the sound was shattering. More shots were ringing out; this version of Bobby was a good a shot as the one in real life. Sam swerved to avoid a bullet and shouted. Dean flinched when one got too close to his face.

"Dive!" he shouted to Sam.

"The dog-"

Dean pushed down, letting his feathers brush the grass, and heard Sam follow him.

"Sic em' Rumsfeld!" they heard Bobby shout.

The dog took off like a shot, its panting was loud behind them and its teeth nipped at their tails and feet.

"Damn and I used to like this game!" Dean shouted.

"So did I." Sam replied.

"I never felt bad for the ducks before." Dean panted.

"Well, it would have been too easy if we were the ones' doing the shooting-"

"Hang on, I've got an idea."

Dean wheeled away from the dog, and shot upwards.

"Dean?!" Sam called.

"None of the birds ever did this in the game!"

Dean soared upwards and the shots rang out again, and Sam just stared as Dean went straight for Bobby. He dived, ignoring the rifle and Bobby's shouts. Bobby had now stopped shooting and was now just swinging the rifle at Dean.

Sam wasn't sure if he should be alarmed or amused. He was pretty sure they'd never do something like this again. He wasn't even sure if they could actually get hurt-

"Ahhrrgh!"

Scratch that, they could. Bobby had managed to hit Dean with the butt of the rifle. Sam raced forward, and swooped down just as Bobby was prepared to hit Dean again. Sam's wings knocked off Bobby's hat and he circled over the older man, blocking Dean from his sight.

"Thanks man." Dean panted, as well as ducks could anyway.

"Just run!"

Dean swooped even lower, and flew inside the house. Sam cried out, and followed. He pressed forward.

"Idjit birds get outta there!" Bobby yelled from behind.

The inside of the house was cluttered and messy. It was pretty much the same as real Bobby's house, fireplace included. Dean hastily landed by it, flapping his wings. He seemed to be looking for something, and Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if ducks could do that, that is.

"You know we don't have thumbs right?" he asked.

"Hey, you never know what could happen-"

Bobby ran into the room, and his footsteps thundered towards them. He grabbed what looked like a box of shells, and Sam tried to run as he fast as he could to Dean.

"Fireplace!"

Dean gave him a quick glance before leaping up, and flapping up. He hovered, frantically beating his wings as he climbed up. Sam raced behind him, nudging his brother upwards, as a shot missed him by inches. Sam battered Dean with his wings, and together the two managed to crawl up. Bullets were missing them by wider margins, and chips of brick tumbled down on them, and clung to them.

The farther they crawled, the more quiet it got, and the darker it became. Dean slipped a bit, and bumped back into Sam. He heard his brother's grunt of protest.

"Sorry."

He grabbed for leverage and nearly yelled in relief. He had hands again, and he gleefully wiggled his fingers, laughing.

"Dean." Sam's voice was muffled. "Your hands are-your hands!" he shouted.

Dean couldn't help but cheer when his hands groped around Sam, and he could feel a face. He figured that was the only reason why Sam hadn't pushed him off.

"Thumbs feel pretty good, huh Sammy?"

He could feel Sam's smile. "Yeah, but this is getting a little awkward."

"Ok, ok. Let's get the hell out of here."

Dean hauled himself back up, and pushed himself forward. They didn't say much as they moved, and there was a pale pinprick of light. Dean moved faster and the pinprick grew to the size of a globe, and soon his hands hit air and he pulled himself up and he clambered out, grabbing Sam's hands when they waved in the air. Sam hauled himself up and looked at Dean.

"Ok, where do you think we are now?" Dean asked.

Sam just looked at him, lips twitching. He snorted; face twisting briefly before smoothing it over. He opened his mouth, but no words just came out, just strangled noises. A keening giggle from the back of his throat was the only sound that came out. Dean stared at him in surprise but before he could react further, Sam's face scrunched again and he pointed one shaking finger at Dean before he slumped.

"You-"

Sam made another sound before bursting into laughter. Dean looked down at himself. He was no longer wearing his jeans, dark t-shirt, or his leather jacket. Instead he was wearing bright cherry red overalls. Sam was still pointing, and Dean reached up and felt a hat, going down lower and feeling something bristly on his face. A mustache. Sam was positively howling with laughter. Dean looked back at Sam.

"You're not much better yourself."

Sam looked down at himself. He was wearing the same outfit, except in vivid green. Sam felt a mustache of his own, but he shrugged and burst into another fit of laughter.

"You're like the jolly green giant!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam didn't bother with a retort, and he tried to stop his laughing. He cleared his throat.

"I guess it's pretty obvious where we are." his voice was breathy with suppressed laughter.

Dean nodded and looked out to see the tiny bumps of mountains in the distance. He made towards them, but stumbled back. Extending his hand, he moved forward until he felt something solid press against his hand. There was nothing to suggest what felt like a wall. Dean's hand was pressed next to thin air. Sam's eyes widened at the sight.

"How bout' that?" Dean asked.

"Well I guess we shouldn't be surprised. This must be the original one."

"The original?"

"Yeah, remember it was a side scroller. You could only go back or forward."

Dean nodded in a vague way, suggesting he probably remembered, but didn't press the point. He began to walk forward, looking at the bars that occasionally hung over their heads. A shiny gold disc hovered in the air and Dean pulled it out of the air, inspecting it.

"So what is the point?"

Sam watched Dean fling the coin into the air, and it clattered onto the ground, frightening one of the small scuttling creatures that were approaching them. Sam ducked to avoid a flying creature, and exhaled deeply.

"Well a videogame is something you play." he began slowly. "They have certain…things that you do." he explained, moving his hands. "You collect things, kill the mooks, get power ups and eventually try and kill the final boss."

"Ok, sure, but why this?"

"Hmm, well maybe the type of game is the clue."

"Type?"

Sam elaborated. "These games are old. Like some of the first that were made, and were easy to get." he paused, an idea coming to him. "These games are very straight forward, simple, and it was pretty easy to figure out what you had to do to win." A theory was coming faster. "In the racing game, well you race to get first place. In the last one, you shoot the birds. I think we're just supposed to play along."

"That sounds familiar." Dean's voice was dark with suspicion. "What's the objective of this game?"

"You collect coins, kill the bad guys, and travel around the levels to get to the big boss." Sam looked thoughtful. "Familiar? You're thinking the trickster has friends in high places?"

"Maybe." Dean continued. "You sure about him helping? Seems flighty." he remarked.

Sam shrugged. "I think getting out of here is the only way he'll listen. It'll be pain in the ass, but something-"

Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted as something scuttled towards them; it was tiny but fast. Dean moved back, looking for a weapon.

"A mook right?" he asked.

Sam nodded. Dean took a running leap, avoiding the creature. It growled and turned back, zipping forward. Dean suddenly moved, kicking his leg forward, punting the creature. It soared into the air before crashing to the ground and disappearing.

Dean continued on, with Sam behind. They stuffed the shiny coins in their pockets, jumping over monsters, and the gaps in the ground. Sam nearly hit his head on the bars that floated above them a couple of times, but they were great for climbing.

Dean stopped and pointed up ahead. He was pointing at a red and white puff, with a face was staring back at them with a smile. It floated by itself, and Dean turned to look at Sam.

"That's just creepy."

"It's a mushroom. They're good for you."

This earned a laughed out of Dean. "Never thought I'd hear you say that."

He strode towards it, and plucked it out of the sky. He turned it over in his hands, and it kept smiling at him. Sam peered at it over his shoulder.

"Do I have to eat it?" Dean asked.

"Ummm, how about no."

Alternate reality or not, Sam didn't really want to see his brother munch on weird things they weren't even sure was real. Dean shrugged and was about to toss it when a strange rasping noise made them look up.

"Oh what now?" Dean griped.

A few meters away was a large plant, and it had spotted them. It made another rasping noise, and opened its mouth.

"Venus flytrap?" Sam asked to no one in particular.

It had a tongue like thing in its mouth, and the sound it made this time was like a cat trying to hack up a hairball. Instead of something slimy, a small ball of fire shot out and it landed at the boys' feet.

"Plants that shoot fireballs?" Dean blinked slowly. "The guys who make these things are seriously cracked out." he intoned. "Ok, any way to get past it?"

Sam frowned, trying to remember. "Umm, I think every few minutes, it'll go back down to where it came from." he pointed to the green tube the plant was sitting on.

"You think?"

Sam shrugged. "Worth a shot."

Dean raised the mushroom like it was a weapon, and he cautiously walked forward. The plant slumped down, gurgling unhappily. Dean crouched a bit, waiting for the plant to move, when it didn't he rushed forward, launching himself forward and leapt onto the plant. It shrieked in fury, and Dean raised the mushroom high and began to slam it down onto the plant, using it like a club.

"Now!" he shouted.

Sam dashed forward, his palms hitting the green tube, and he rapidly pulled himself up and felt Dean grappling with the plant, jaw tense from holding the creature back as he slammed the now sad looking mushroom into the plant, as he tried to shove it into the monster's mouth.

"I got this!"

Sam slid down and let his feet slap the ground hard. He turned and looked behind him. The plant monster was choking on the mushroom, its jaws scissoring frantically and its alarmed grunting was muffled as the mushroom stayed trapped in place. It whipped itself crazily around, and Dean had to duck and roll to avoid getting hit. He landed onto the ground with a thump and he hastily righted himself. The plant reared up as the two began move forward. It gave a throaty rumbling, and the edges of its mouth smoked; it shook itself again, and a crackling noise suddenly started up.

Flames licked at the rims of its jaws, it keened before it hacked up a fire ball. Sam and Dean jumped back, missing the hit. The fireball thumped weakly onto the ground, smoldering gently. The charred mushroom stared back at them, but the plant was still shrieking as its own fire was beginning cover it. It thrashed before wilting, turning completely black before it shriveled up and disappeared.

The green tube was now free; Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"This how we get outta here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Well going down ought to be easier than going up."

Together they moved to the tube, and Sam clambered in after Dean. It was dark inside, and it was a straight drop. It was almost like a water park slide, except they didn't know where they would end up next. It was over as quickly as it began and Dean managed to keep to his feet and he straightened himself just as Sam fell, crashing into Dean.

"Ahrrgh!"

Sam pulled himself up, offering Dean a hand. Dean took it and hauled Dean up.

"You good?"

"Terrific."

"Where are we?"

It was a tunnel, dimly lit and they could see it went on for a long time. Dean peered over the edge; it seemed they were rather high up. Sam scanned with his hands, and he felt the resistance against them.

"We're in another side scroller."

"Delightful."

A sudden rumbling made the ground shake, and the two spread out their arms for balance, grabbing each other's jackets.

"Lemme guess, it's a big boulder coming towards us." Dean said.

"Don't think they ever made a game from that."

There was a bigger boom, and the ground shuddered more violently and the sound of something large and fast approaching made the walls shake. The air howled, wind was sucking downward as the thing barreled down the way. It was large and yellow, looking more like a ball than a boulder. It rolled at high speed, and when it rolled one final time, there was a gaping black hole cutting sharply into the ball. It looked like it was struggling to right itself; the hole was moving up and down, almost like a mouth. It began to move, the two 'lips' flapping with a horrific efficiency. It was headed straight towards them.

"Wait-" Sam started.

Dean tugged on his sleeve to get Sam going. "Pac-man?! Really?!" he shouted.

"Guess the trickster really does like it old school." Sam panted.

"Oh, we should play the game," Dean mocked, "It's really simple."

"Oh shut up. At least we're not in Legend of Zelda."

SPNTMI

Castiel and Alec scanned the building. They had been locked out of it for a while now; when Castiel tried to find Sam and Dean again, he opened a door, and it led him outside. When he tried to get back in, it was sealed against him. He headed back towards Alec, who had was just as bewildered and had found himself unable to go back inside as well.

Castiel turned to Alec to watch the Shadowhunter pull out a weapon, or at least what seemed to be a weapon. It was one of the slender stick objects, and Castiel watched Alec make a writing motion with it along the side of the building. It looked as though he had written the word for 'open', but it didn't look the way he was used to. It didn't seem to work because Alec cursed.

Castiel blinked; he could sense his own frustration and if he were in a wry mood, he would attribute it to the Winchester brothers. However, he needed to get them out of the building. Castiel raised his hand and pressed his palm against the building. Closing his eyes, he searched for whatever was binding the building with prickling energy. He frowned; he wouldn't be able to break it easily.

Alec cleared his throat. "So…did that work?"

Castiel turned to him. "I'm afraid getting back inside will be more difficult that I thought."

"Even with your…power?" Alec asked hesitatingly.

Castiel simply looked at Alec curiously; it took him a few moments to realize that Alec was anxious of offending him, or at least that was what Castiel assumed. He paused to try and find a proper response. Castiel peered at Alec, who made the boy shift at the scrutiny and he flushed slightly.

"If I had offended you, I'm sorry."

"You have not." Castiel assured. "Some things are simply more difficult to do, considering that I rebelled."

"Oh." Alec wasn't sure what to say. He cleared his throat "If you don't mind my asking, how is it that you became indebted to two mundanes-er, hunters?"

Castiel's reply came to him. "That is difficult to explain. I had orders, and when they involved the Winchesters." Castiel was confused at his inarticulation. "They have always defied expectation, including the circumstances that led us here."

Alec was politely curious. "So…they are part of your mission?"

"In a way." Castiel blinked. "It is because of them that I rebelled."

"Isn't that a bad thing?" Alec asked.

Castiel looked pained. "It's complicated. However-" he cut himself off, frowning.

There was a sudden crashing sound; something very heavy had been suddenly dislodged. There was a loud clattering of metal hitting the ground. Trash rattled the ground, sending it in all directions. The sound was echoing, and then the stench hit. Alec wrinkled his nose, but Castiel stepped back, briefly overcome.

The sudden sounds made the two freeze. Alec's eyes widened in shock; those were familiar noises. Snuffling, rasping, growling, and snarling. They were getting closer, and Alec slowly reached for a weapon. Castiel watched and he tensed. He watched as Alec pulled out one of his slim tubes. Alec pressed himself against the wall, and after a moment, Castiel followed suit. The sounds were getting closer, just around the corner from them. Alec's heart was pounding, and he brought the tube to his lips. He closed his, trying to quiet his breathing.

A roar and Alec felt the hot, acrid breath on his face. He didn't have time to shout. It revealed its gaping mouth, and tentacles wrapped themselves around Alec's neck. He could see its red-suckers, the needle-like teeth inches from his eyes-

Alec was pulled back, feet skimming the ground. He stumbled, gaining his footing and he looked ahead. Castiel had yanked him back; his blade glimmered as it slashed at the tentacles that were previously strangling Alec. As he cut it, it hissed and black fluid gushed out of the wound. Castiel made a noise of disgust, hastily moving away from the thick liquid.

"Another monstrosity." his voice sounded like thunder.

Castiel moved to Alec's side. The first creature was almost human shaped and its bulging eyes stared hungrily at them. Its tentacles were bursting out from its wrists, as if it had shed its hands. They were a slimy dead grey, which matched the rest of its skin. The only color it had was the red suckers, sore and infected looking, and the needles inside them could be clearly seen; they clacked together, moving with excitement. It was like they strained to shoot out from the rest of the body and pierce them. The black fluid dripped down onto the ground.

"Be careful." Alec cautioned, gesturing to the dripping blackness. "Its blood is poison."

"Unsurprising." Castiel intoned, his lips pulled back in a feral grimace.

Another rumbling noise and two more creatures appeared. They were opposing in appearance, and looked nothing like the tentacled one. The first was rather large, but it moved fast on its paw-like hands. It had a monkey-ish quality to it, but it had an enormous stinger tail, it swung obscenely to and fro. Its eyes looked jaundiced and seemed to have trouble focusing on them, but it hissed threateningly all the same. It pulled back dirty lips to reveal jagged and broken teeth. It made way for the second beast.

The second beast was larger and more fearsome looking than the previous two, which moved to quickly flank it. This one had grey, almost elephantine skin. However, it looked more like a rhinoceros in build. Its head was enormous, with a large spiny horn emerging from its forehead and it emitted a horrible smell. It shook itself, and scales fell off its body. Roaring, it moved forward, claws scraping the ground like nails against a blackboard. It lowered its head, preparing to charge and spindles could be seen all along its back. Its tail thumped in warning, and when it came into full view, it resembled a python with numerous eyes covering its body.

"By the Angel," Alec whispered. "A Raum and a Scorprios? But what the hell is the other one?!"

Castiel glanced at Alec, who was still holding the tube in his hand. He seemed to snap out of it and he turned to Castiel.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

"The large one poses a problem." Castiel rumbled. "That one first."

Alec nodded, grimmer than before. He gripped the tube hard in his hand, barely sparing it a glance before calling out.

"Arathiel."

The tube blazed to life and within seconds it burst out, slicing the air and elongating into a thin blade. It pulsed with power; Castiel's grace spiked at the clear blade's power, which seemed to respond to Castiel as well as Alec.

Castiel felt a divide in his attention; the blade was alive, full of an energy of its own. It responded to the now surging force in Alec, and Castiel felt his own power tremble in anticipation. It was almost as if he was side by side with one of his brothers again, and a sudden pang went through him. The power was vibrating through all three of them, and suddenly Castiel felt a new acuteness, and it began to enhance his spirit. He was ready to fight.

Castiel gripped the handle of his own blade, the black blood smudged on its tip, and his lip curled in momentary disgust. He was about to spill more blood. Castiel shifted his stance, letting it resemble Alec's. The creature roared, and the two beside him flung themselves forward, and a second later the large beast lowered its head and began to charge.

SPNTMI

Sam and Dean stopped running and were greeted by a cheering crowd. They entered into a large stadium, and it was jam packed with people. The two stepped back in surprise.

"Well it looks like our challengers have finally arrived!"

Both jumped and turned to the voice. It was coming from a table on the sidelines. They were protected by a large glass wall that looked very sturdy. The table had at least five people, and each one had a microphone next to them. One energetic looking man was clutching his and shouting happily into it.

"This panel has been eagerly awaiting this match for a while now!"

"Exactly!" cried a man to his left. "This should be exciting!"

"Well let's get started." a woman replied impatiently.

Suddenly at a gesture from the first man, men wearing stripped shirts strode over to Sam and Dean, carrying trays.

"Shall we get started?" one asked Sam, thrusting a tray into his hands.

"Umm-okay?"

"Good."

Dean looked down at his own tray, which was gently pushed into his hands. It held six red and white striped balls. He looked at Sam, then back down to the tray.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked.

Sam looked down at his own. "Oh I think so."

Without any more prompting, one of the stripe shirted men led Sam to the other end of the stadium. Sam looked back at Dean, who gave him a grimace of consternation. The crowd cheered when Sam was finally put in his spot. It was at the end of the circular field, so that he and Dean stood at opposing ends. Each one now stood on a small platform that had a small surface to put their trays. Railing prevented them from falling, even if the drop would only have been three feet at the most.

Sam looked down at his panel. It held a screen, and he took out one of the striped balls and put it into the slot beneath the screen. Suddenly the screen flickered to life. Bold text flashed and read:

'Scanning Data'

A second later a picture appeared on the screen, a name beneath it. Sam had a flash of nostalgia as he recognized the name.

Lapras.

Pressing a few buttons next to the screen got him to realize he could look at each individuals type and stats. He quickly slid the five remaining balls into the slot. The data came back faster. Names came up in rapid succession. Latias, Espeon, Ampharus, Misdreavus, and Typholsion.

"Not a bad set."

Sam turned to look at another button beneath a much smaller screen. Curious, he pressed it. He heard a small beep and Dean's voice came in crystal clear.

"-what, son of a-"

"Dean."

"Sammy?" Dean sounded harassed.

"Yeah, can you see me?"

"…Hang on."

A beep later and Sam could see Dean's face fill the tiny screen. He looked as annoyed as he had sounded.

"The hell?" Dean scowled. "I never played this game."

The cheers of the crowd started up again, and a screen suddenly descended from the ceiling of the stadium. It stopped, hanging in the center and it came to life, showing close ups of both brothers. Sam stared back, rolling his eyes, and seeing his expression mirrored back in high definition.

"I have." Sam backpedaled slightly. "But only a few times."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Ok."

"Ok." Sam replied, then: "Okay, did you put your balls in the slot?" he asked.

"That's a little personal don't ya think?"

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

Dean grinned, and Sam could hear him putting each poke ball into the slot. The beeps were loud as Dean fiddled with the controls.

"Huh. Think I got a good haul." Dean whistled. "They look kinda cool. How do I do this?"

The commentators suddenly started talking, a loud speaker amplifying the voice.

"Now remember," It said. "This is a trophy match, all levels accepted, and each player can have up to six Pokémon on their team. If a Pokémon faints, it cannot be put back in play. There is no time limit. Players will begin at the horn."

The crowd cheered, and the sound assaulted them from every corner.

"It's like a complicated rock-paper-scissors. Fire beats Grass, Water beats Fire. Each type has a strength and a weakness. Stats can help you pick with type is the best of its kind, but you want a balanced team. Knowing their moves really helps because some have attacks that can do different things, and having a variety of moves means you can win easier. Some even have moves from other types." he quickly explained.

"You've only played a couple of times?"

"Shut up."

The horn blared. Sam looked through his pool and quickly selected one. He looked up to see Dean reluctantly lift one ball out.

"Throw it." Sam called. "On three!"

"One. Two. Three!"

Both threw. Sam watched Dean hurl the ball into the air. It sailed high before opening midair. A flash of light made them squint, but it was quickly gone, and then their monsters were on the field.

Dean blinked in surprise at what he saw. Huge monsters. His own was standing upright on thick hind legs, and each limb had vicious claws. Dean's had spines all the way from head to tail, and its tail was triple pronged. All of it looked scaly and hard, and if he tried to touch it, his skin would slough off. It was an off green color except for a patch of dark color on its belly.

"Oh Dean Winchester has put Tyranitar into play!" the first commentator shouted.

"A very aggressive opening move." said the second.

"But it matches Sam Winchester, who is starting things off with his Typholsion." a third one replied.

Dean glowered at the commentators' box, but turned to get a look at Sam's monster. It was just as huge as his own, but more colorful. It was two toned, with a blue roan coat, with a light colored underbelly. It had a huge mane of fire, and it was jetting outwards aggressively. It roared at his monster with a huge head full of teeth. It reared up on its hind legs before crashing back down onto all fours. The two creatures looked ready to tear into each other, the only thing stopping them their masters' commands.

"Wanna get this party started?" Dean asked.

"Whenever you're ready." Sam replied.

"Attack!" Dean shouted.

Tyranitar roared and raced towards Typholsion. Sam shouted, and jets of flame shot out of Typholsion's mouth. Tyranitar bellowed in pain, and charged. The impact sent Typholsion staggering. It reared back on its haunches, bracing for more. Dirt was kicked up, gathering around the two creatures. Flames were crackling on the ground, and the feet of the grappling beasts quickly put them out. Tyranitar lowered itself to the ground and swung its tail high, hitting Typholsion full in the face. It bit down of the tail, seemingly not caring if its mouth caught the spikes. It was growling in pain, but the inside of its mouth glowed.

Flames suddenly consumed Tyranitar, and it writhed and whirled on Typholsion in a fury. Its huge claws raking Typholsion's face, which made the flame creature scream in pain. It spun, mouth still clamped onto Tyranitar as it leaned on the other, bearing down. The two crashed into the ground, scattering debris and popping ear drums with the sound of their impact.

They roared, their heavy limbs crushing into the ground. Typholsion struggled to move away from Tyranitar, and Sam suddenly called out a command. A sudden wheel shaped burst of flame barreled into Tyranitar, and the other monster leapt up and scrambled to get away.

"Throw something at him!" Dean shouted.

Tyranitar didn't need prompting, and it growled as it hefted up a large rock with crude paws. Its aim was rough but it hit Typholsion, who snarled in anger and its fire plumed mane burned brighter. It shot out a lethal stream of fire, but missed. It fired bursts of flame, and Tyranitar lumbering, managed to dodge them. Tyranitar moved steadily, hurling rocks at Typholsion, who blasted some of them, but shot fireballs at Tyranitar's feet.

"Guess my Tyrant-Tire is gonna beat your Typo-Explosion." Dean commented.

"We'll see." Sam countered, not unamused. "And its Tyranitar and Typholsion."

"Whatever."

Tyranitar was in front of Typholsion, and its long, serrated claws dug into Typholsion's shaggy fur. The fire monster screamed as it was suddenly hefted into the air. Tyranitar rumbled in triumph and threw Typholsion. It hurtled through the air, and Tyranitar gave chase as Typholsion slammed into a wall, its thick body making a crater. It screeched in pain as Tyranitar slammed into Typholsion, pushing it farther into the wall and making the crater even larger.

Typholsion seemed to groan, and its jaws trembling. Smoke was unfurling from its mouth, and it growled before the crackling of flames overtook the sound. Fire shot out, hitting Tyranitar square in the chest. The molten stream shot Tyranitar high into the air.

The crowd screamed as Tyranitar plummeted into the hard earth, shattering it on impact. Chunks of rock flew in all directions, landing just a few feet from the audience. This drew gasps from them as large fragments of rock, some almost boulder sized, sailed high into the air and then rained down on Tyranitar.

It growled feebly before slumping down, and Typholsion hissed in pain and did not move. There was a brief silence and then a tumultuous wave of sound. The commentators began shouting again, gripping their microphones tight and pressing the black bulbs hard to their lips.

"It's a double knockout! Amazing-they knocked each other out!"

"Incredible start to a match!"

Dean watched Sam pull out a poke ball and recalled his Typholsion. He quickly mimicked his brother.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"No we've still got five more to go."

Dean groaned. He looked at his pool, and picked up another ball as he glanced at its stats. He shrugged and threw the ball. The Pokémon appeared quickly, and with a trumpeted cry.

"And now, Dean Winchester has brought out his Donphan."

"But what will Sam choose? That's the question."

Sam rolled his eyes at the commentary, but he already knew what his choice would be. He grabbed a ball, pulled back his arm, and threw quickly. With a delicate cry, his next creature appeared on the field.

"Oh it's Lapras!"

The two creatures faced each other, much more contrasting than the previous two. Donphan was some sort of elephantine creature with an armored back of dark leather. It had two long curving tusks that flanked a thick powerful trunk. Donphan stomped its large feet in agitation. It was a powerful, aggressive looking beast.

Lapras was much more graceful looking, with an arching neck that tapered downwards, and had powerful flippers. It looked like a cross between some kind of whale and a dolphin. Its large, coral-like saddle contrasted with its blue skin. It cried out, its curlicue ears wriggled and it undulated in challenge.

Dean fiddled with the controls on his panel, and he quietly read the stats and moves. He looked up, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Donphan, use rollout!" he called.

Donphan cried out, springing into the air, curling into a ball. It shot forward, heading straight for Lapras. The water beast barely got out of the way, giving a musical cry as it did. Donphan expertly turned, rolling with deadly precision at Lapras. This time, its aim was true. Lapras was bowled over, whimpering in pain. Its flippers flapped at the air as it struggled to right itself, and Sam quickly shouted commands.

As Donphan spun around for another hit, Lapras finally righted itself and opened its mouth wide. A thick torrent of water jetted out, as powerful as a fireman's hose. It caught Donphan off guard, sending it stumbling. Donphan was forcibly unfurled, and blown off path.

"Keep using rollout!" shouted Dean.

Donphan leapt up and curled itself with efficiency. Its speed was impressive for its bulk, and Lapras had trouble moving. Its flippers were firmly anchored to the dry ground.

"Lapras sing!" Sam urged.

Lapras opened its mouth wide, and a melodious pitch poured out. It was delicate, soft, and slightly eerie. Donphan weaved erratically, but instead of slowing down, it just went faster. Its tusks tore into the ground, deep ruts forming in crazy trails. Donphan snuffled as it careened into Lapras, tusks goring the shell saddle. Lapras screeched in pain as tusks and trunk slammed into its body, mercilessly slashing and slamming.

"Surf!" came Sam's shout.

Lapras gave another cry and water suddenly surged outwards, knocking Donphan far off course. Water still poured out, filling the deep ruts and pooling out. Donphan trumpeted in agitation as its large feet caught in the quickly developing mud. It tried desperately to escape, mud sucking and squelching beneath it. Donphan finally freed itself, but had to leap high to avoid getting trapped again. There wasn't much space to use rollout again, but a sudden blast of water from Lapras knocked Donphan off its feet.

It landed on its back, armor quickly sinking into the muck. Donphan's legs frantically waved in the air, unable to right itself. Its trunk was straining upwards, sucking down air. Another thick stream of water shot out, and it was enough to knock Donphan back several feet. It slipped through the mud, unable to gain footing. Lapras continued to spray out water until Donphan was finally stopped by the podium with a heavy thud.

Dean grabbed the railing to prevent himself from falling, the impact shuddering through the metal frame. He looked down to see his Donphan dazedly try to stand before wobbling and then, crumpling to the ground. Dean looked up to see Lapras before recalling his creature.

"Show off."

Dean barely glanced at his roster and threw another ball. The brief flash of light was harsh on the eyes, and was stood on the soggy ground was a beast much bigger than Donphan. It roared assertively as it swung its flaming tail back and forth. The commentators were in an uproar.

"Oh-Dean Winchester is going with Charizard!"

"This is pretty shocking-a daring move!"

"What is he trying to do?"

Sam looked at the commentators, and back to Dean.

"You do realize Charizard is a fire type right?" at Dean's nod he continued. "And that Lapras is a water type?"

"My guy can fly." Dean countered. "Fly!" he shouted to Charizard.

Charizard took to the skies, beating its powerful wings. The wind could be heard as it made the water slosh on the ground. Lapras cried out as it began to get slapped by the waves. The wind rocked both Lapras and Sam's stand, both swaying despite being firmly anchored. Lapras quickly gained control, flapping its flippers with a steady pounding.

"Attack!" shouted Dean.

Charizard acknowledged the command with a roar. It opened its mouth wide, revealing jagged yellow teeth. There was a crackling sound, and the entire inside of its mouth was suddenly illuminated. It was like sensing the lightening before it struck, seeing it arrive in that nano-second before oblivion. Molten fire shot outwards, spewing like lethal vomit.

"Whirlpool!" Sam yelled.

Lapras suddenly moved, magnificent flippers slapping and stroking the water. The water began to move faster, shimmying upwards until it created a wall that managed to keep itself erect. The fireball hit the wall, put out instantly. Smoke billowed against the wall. Said wall sloshed downwards, but the smoke lingered, not quite filling the air.

"Again. Keep shooting." Dean directed.

Charizard began its attack again, and the wall rose up; Lapras pulled the water that surrounded it, and Charizard dived low, seeing the weakness. It fired another shot. The flame went straight for Lapras's face and it spat out a jet of water. It caught the fireball, extinguishing it. Charizard swerved sharply upwards to avoid getting blasted. The water wall came crashing down, nearly dousing Charizard's tail, it roared in frustration as it struggled to soar away from Lapras, who blasted another jet of water. Charizard wheeled, letting loose another sweeping blaze of fire. It did not hit Lapras, but the water. Flames briefly crackled by Lapras's body, illuminating its blue skin before vanishing. Smoke hissed, its disembodied form hovering close to the water. Lapras shook its head.

"Fire at the water." Dean called out suddenly.

Sam shouted in surprise as the winged monster created more heat, a large ring of fire surrounding Lapras. It was put out quickly, but then created again just as quickly. Steam gathered, making the water waver and blur. Sam rapidly blinked; sweat was getting in his eyes. He could see Lapras was in a similar state, the creature was struggling to breathe. Its skin gleamed eerily and looked oddly sick. The water surrounding it was boiling, bubbles popped next to Lapras, and it undulated with discomfort, wailing in pain. Charizard swooped low at a command, and Sam countered swiftly. Lapras's voice was shaky, but its attack still made Charizard swerve. Its fire scorched high into the air, making tight turns. It twisted suddenly, nose diving straight at Lapras. Another fire attack was building up, but Lapras countered and Charizard and the large beast got a face full of water. It choked, steam clouding its face. It back pedaled hastily, wings punching the air.

Dean lifted up the poke ball, recalling Charizard, and he threw another ball in the air. His next beast filled the arena with a raspy screech.

"Well a smart move." one commentator spoke up.

"Especially since that could have been the end of Charizard." said the second.

"We probably haven't seen the last of it." replied the third.

"With Gyrados now in play, you're probably right." a fourth said.

"Oh God, shut up." Dean groused.

The Gyrados unfurled itself. It was a scaly, serpentine behemoth with strong jaws and wicked eyes. The steam that surrounded it made it shimmer ominously. It opened its mouth wide; teeth were revealed to be deadly and precise. The boiling water did not bother it; the scales on its body glimmered. It made Lapras look weak and soft by comparison. Gyrados sunk into the water, its eyes the last thing to be seen as it glared at Lapras.

"This sounds cool. Rage attack!" Dean ordered.

Gyrados rumbled in reply, water rippling with response. The beast was no longer seen, but was quickly heard. Water rushed forward, and Lapras could not get away fast enough. Gyrados's gigantic tail slapped Lapras, batting the creature mercilessly. Lapras wailed as it was assaulted with blow after blow; they came so fast that there was no time to react, and Lapras was flipped and tossed into the air, crashing down with a violent splash. Gyrados was snarling as its scales rubbed into Lapras's skin and cuts appeared. It was unable to follow Sam's commands as they were quickly rebuffed by Gyrados.

"Bind!" Dean called out.

Gyrados moved with blinding speed and grabbed Lapras before it had a chance to escape. It wrapped itself around Lapras like a giant python. Lapras struggled weakly in the grip, but could not move. There was a sickening crunch as its coral saddle broke, the pieces falling into the water with a cheerful plunk. Lapras screamed until its voice gave out, and its body went limp.

"Aaannd Lapras has fainted!" The announcer warbled.

Sam rolled his eyes at the comment as he sent Lapras back to its ball. Looking down briefly at his roster, he already knew which one to send out next. It revealed itself with a magnified bleat. It was Ampharus, a midsized creature with a yellow hide and a long neck. The bead-like ball on the end of its tail glowed in response to Gyrados's brutish cries. Ampharus was small next to Gyrados and it looked frail as it made another odd bleat.

At a command from Dean, Gyrados charged. Water sprayed outwards as Gyrados crashed forwards, but Ampharus dodged. It struggled to get out of the way and managed to find a slab of rock to stand on. Even though the heat from Charizard had made a great deal of water evaporate, there was still enough that Gyrados could move unhindered. The announcers were prattling on, but Sam tuned them out, calling out an order. Ampharus crackled in response, sparks dancing around its body as the ball on its tail glowed brightly. As soon as sparks hit the water, Gyrados growled apprehensively. The water began to sizzle and once again steam rose. The air smelled of metal and began to buzz.

Gyrados suddenly lunged, jaws distended. Ampharus leaped as soon as the water dragon crashed into the slab, sending it scattering. Ampharus landed onto Gyrados's face, its grip tight around one of the creature's fangs.

"Thunder!" Sam demanded.

The attack came, bright as lightening and just as fierce. Electricity swayed and danced. It licked at Gyrados's body, catching in the scales, giving them a deadly shimmer. The bolts bounded over the water, and every time Gyrados tried to move, the lightening would catch its body. Gyrados thrashed and no matter how or where it moved, it would always be shocked. Its body swelled as lightening lit up its mouth, coursing through its entire body, shooting inside of it. Gyrados seized as the haze intensified, making it hard to see. The water was fleeing; evaporating in the extremes it was being put under. Gyrados was lifted upwards from the force of the attack, still in its grip. It roared, before suddenly crashing down, smoking and motionless. Ampharus stumbled out of its mouth; it wobbled onto its haunches, the grass squelching beneath it.

"Sam Winchester's Ampharus used Thunder!"

"Yes, its super effective!"

Dean looked down at his smoldering monster and whistled as Sam slapped a palm to his forehead.

"Damn." Dean drew out the word.

Sam gave him a twisted smile. "But it was better than the Tetris right?"

Dean laughed.

"How long do we have to keep doing this?" Sam asked. "At this rate, we'll be trapped here forever-"

"You're the one who said to play along-"

Sam cut him off. "So you don't have a plan?"

"I'm workin' on it." Dean snapped.

"Well it appears nothing is happening." A commentator suddenly cried.

"Oh shut up!" Dean yelled.

Sam sighed. "Shall we?"

"Urgh."

Dean recalled Gyrados; a flash of light later and another creature appeared. It was equal in size to Ampharus, but its body was green and it looked much fiercer. It had curving blades in place of arms and hands, its hind legs had thick wicked claws, and it crouched forward as if eager for a fight. Small translucent wings buzzed quickly together. Dean looked down at the stats.

"Scyther huh?" Dean turned to his creature. "Cut!"

With a screech Scyther raced forward, more graceful that imagined. Ampharus barely had time to dodge and it shot out a small lightning bolt, which missed and hit the soggy ground with a sizzle. Ampharus cried out, getting slashed repeatedly. Its next bolt hit Scyther, but didn't do much damage. Scyther screeched again, miniscule teeth flashing. It shot through, blades whirring. Scyther tackled Ampharus, blindly bringing its blades downwards. Ampharus rolled out from under Scyther, bleating in alarm.

With a sudden flash, Sam recalled Ampharus and looked for a replacement as the crowd screamed.

"Ready to give up?" Dean asked.

"You wish!" Sam called back. He threw the ball. "I choose you, Espeon!"

The creature came out with a flash. It was four-legged and lilac furred. Its size was somewhere in between house cat and leopard, but what made it stand out was its two pronged tail. Scyther rasped in aggression, but Espeon stared impassively at the other creature. Both beasts looked ready to tear into each other.

"Go!" shouted Dean.

Scyther moved again, blades extended. Espeon stood its ground, but Scyther veered sharply, blade singing. Espeon dodged, hissing angrily.

"Mirage!" Dean called.

Suddenly, Scyther was a blur, racing in circles around Espeon. Then there were ten Scythers', each one vicious as their blades descended. The purple beast ducked low, eyes flashing.

"Psychic!" Sam countered.

The air suddenly rippled, and the jewel set on Espeon's forehead began to glow. The Scyther figures vanished, as if they had never existed, and left the original standing. Its thick green feet rose from the ground, and it began to hover. Scyther squirmed in agitation, unable to control its movements. Scyther was swiftly yanked backwards, as if shoved by a giant. It sailed across the field before slamming to a stop at Dean's ramp. The small metal box rattled at the impact and Dean looked at Espeon to Sam and back again.

"Figures." He muttered.

Something caught his eyes, and he looked into the crowd. He ignored the field and the two creatures eying each other warily. Sam frowned, following Dean's line of sight, but he couldn't tell what his brother was looking at. Dean grabbed a poke ball from his tray and in one blurred motion, threw it. Charizard appeared. The crowd gasped in shock. The commentators were all shouting in unison, unable to contain themselves as the stripe shirted men frantically blew whistles. Dean paid them no attention as he commanded Charizard. The beast roared, flying straight into the audience, shooting fire at them. People scrambled to get out of the way, screaming in terror.

"Woah! Easy there, tiger."

Sam blinked. The Trickster stood in the middle of the field, hands raised in a surrender gesture. The amused smirk on his face suggested otherwise.

"Enough." Dean said. "We get it."

"…Get what?"

Sam dropped off his podium to join his brother, who confronted the Trickster.

"You want us to play along, to what the game tells us to." Sam supplied.

"Warmer." Trickster looked considering.

Dean was incredulous. "Warmer?!"

Trickster gave him a look suggesting this obvious. "Duh. This is only the half of it. You gotta play the game outside."

Sam was more than annoyed. "Life is just a game to you?"

Trickster shrugged. "If the shoe fits."

"You know what, screw this." Dean snapped. "I know one of those winged dicks put you up to this."

The Trickster snorted. "Please. Those jag-offs don't boss me around. Trust me, I wouldn't hang around with those losers-"

Dean continued. "I don't know which dick you're working for and I don't care. It's pretty pathetic to be an angel's bitch."

"Speaking from experience?" The Trickster asked cheerfully.

"You won't help us." Dean didn't sound surprised. "I bet you won't even lift a finger to stop em' or give a damn, you selfish gutless bastard." Dean was on a roll. "You'll just let them do whatever they want. Be a slave to a bunch of soulless douchebags that want the world to burn-"

Sam suddenly felt the air change and gritted his teeth. In one motion, the Trickster grabbed Dean by the collar of his jacket and lifted him up from the ground. Dean struggled, his feet skimming the grass. There was a buzzing in Sam's ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was silent. The stadium was empty, but Sam was frozen, watching the Trickster, was looking as angry as Sam had ever seen him, almost murderous. His eyes full of thunder, and Sam shivered suddenly; he didn't like the expression one bit. It somehow seemed familiar.

"You don't know anything about me." He rasped at Dean, livid. "So why don't you be a good little vessel and shut up, you smug little-"

Suddenly, the Trickster's grip slackened and Dean was dropped none too gently onto the ground. Dean scrambled up quickly, rubbing his neck. He stared warily, but before he could say anything, Sam made it to his side. They watched the Trickster carefully. The other man wasn't looking or even paying attention to them anymore. His eyes were wide, staring at something only he could see. He looked shocked, even horrified. He had gone completely rigid, and he spoke softly to himself and somehow that put Sam on edge even more.

"Son of a bitch."

He sounded incredulous, which seemed out of character, but before Sam could figure anything out; the Trickster gave a vague finger snap in their direction before disappearing.

Sam blinked. He turned wildly around; they were no longer in a stadium, but what looked like the inside of a warehouse. It smelled faintly of burnt sugar.

"Holy crap." Dean suddenly said. "What was that all about and where are we?"

"Dunno, but I think we're back in reality."

"How'd you figure?"

"Just a guess."

"Didn't he seem strange though?" Dean elaborated at Sam's look. "I'm mean with the angel thing? I didn't even say a name and the guy lost it."

"He knew them." Sam stated.

Sam had a sudden thought. He knew why the Trickster lost his temper; he remembered the expression.

"Hang on."

SPNTMI

Castiel gripped his blade tighter as the hideous creature charged. He could hear the shouting, as the younger warrior was surrounded. Castiel was filled with dread. The air crackled, and grace rippled with force. It was not his own, and it belonged to a powerful individual; Castiel's eyes widened as he heard the wing beats.

A man with semi-slicked back blonde hair appeared. There was no smile on his face; he was watching the monsters with disgust. His grace radiated violence and Castiel shivered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alec looking fearful. Castiel could hardly blame him; he looked at the man in shock.

"Y-you are-"

"Get out of here."

His voice was firm and uncompromising. There was something dark in his eyes; there was a tremor from the ground, and Castiel felt himself moving backwards, hastening to obey. Only one thing was keeping him from doing so.

"Look Tweedledee and Tweedledum are ok. They're a couple of warehouses down."

The stranger turned to Castiel and gave him a brief and alarming smile.

"Get out of here." He said again. "I'll handle this."

Castiel had no doubt that he could. He nodded and grabbed Alec as the creatures rushed the stranger. Castiel looked on as the man brushed aside the two smaller ones and destroyed them with ease. The last large one bellowed, wheeling away and the man gave chase. Castiel gripped Alec's arm, and spread his wings. He could feel the weight of Alec clutched tight against him. Castiel sped faster; the knowledge of where Sam and Dean were was firm as a stone in his mind. They landed easily and Alec swayed unsteadily. He clutched at Castiel briefly to regain his balance, flushing with embarrassment. He straightened up and looked at their surroundings. The abandoned warehouses smelled of burnt sugar; a loud bang made them turn around to see two familiar figures. They raced to catch up to them, Alec calling out.

"Sam! Dean!" Alec shouted.

They hurried and made a sharp turn to each other. Castiel could sense the same grace around them that he had encountered moments before. His foreboding increased. He heard Alec rapidly fill them in before Sam and Dean could speak.

"That demon was headed in the direction of Magnus's." his voice was wire thin.

Sam quickly rattled off their encounter as they hurried to leave. Dean finally cut in.

"We don't think he's a Trickster."

"That's because he isn't."

SPNTMI

By the time they got to Magnus's, they could see smoke rising. Alec raced ahead, his blade already out and gleaming. Sam, Dean, and Castiel hot on his heels.

"Magnus!" he shouted.

Magnus's back was to them, and he was standing right next to the Trickster. At the sound of his name, Magnus turned to look at the four who had gotten to his side easily. They all stared at one another; the smoldering pile was the demon and the smoke spiraled up briefly before the creature disappeared.

"Oi, Trickster." Dean called.

Magnus looked briefly nonplussed as the Trickster perked up. He didn't have time to react as he was suddenly splashed with liquid.

"Gah!"

"You know what this is?" Dean held up an ancient looking jug. "It's holy oil."

"…Oookay, and?"

Sam was beginning to look aggrieved, but Dean struck a match. The Trickster watched curiously, as Alec and Castiel anxiously watched. Magnus was looking on with interest and he moved slightly forward.

"Don't bother lying." Dean held up the match. "You're an angel."

The response was immediate; Alec was shocked, but Magnus stared with a considering look as Castiel watched unsurprised. The Trickster was incredulous.

"An angel?!" he laughed. "Was mommy not around to tell you drugs are bad?"

Dean flicked the match and the Trickster hurried to get out of its path. It was a dead giveaway, and Trickster realized it. He looked like he was having trouble preventing himself from cursing. Very reluctantly, he raised his hands; his surrender gesture sincere this time.

"Alright. Alright. Yeah. Yes, I am. Happy?" he snapped.

Sam folded his arms. "So which dick are you?"

Sam was given a lengthy stare. "Gabriel, ok." His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. "They call me Gabriel."

Sam could feel the shock on his face. "Gabriel? As in the archangel?"

"Hey."

Magnus suddenly moved to stand next to Gabriel.

"Well, that explains a lot." He mused. "At any rate, there will be no smiting in my house."

As surprised as Sam and Dean were, it was Alec who spoke next; he looked from Gabriel to Magnus. He seemed oddly hurt.

"Wait, do you two know each other?"

Gabriel smirked at Alec. "We go way back."

"That needs some explaining." Dean muttered sarcastically.

"So do you." Magnus countered.

"I think we all do." Sam said.

Alec shot him a grateful look.

"Starting with you." Dean addressed Gabriel. "Like why aren't you loyal to your psycho brothers?"

"Watch your mouth." Gabriel said. "I love my brothers-love them. Things change. Before Armageddon, which I call another day at the office." His face screwed up in derisive thought. "Or maybe a family reunion. Its' pretty typical of them to pick a fight, but I wasn't interested." His voice slipped into some dark register. "Watching them rip each other to pieces, trying to kill each other? It was unbearable. I couldn't stop them, and I wasn't going to hang around to watch." He glared at Sam and Dean. "I thought you two could relate. It was why I kept such a close eye on you guys." Gabriel threw up his hands. "But hey, whatever; they want to kill each other? Fine, not my problem."

He faced his fascinated, but unwilling audience. Gabriel didn't seem to care who heard him. It was silent, but then Magnus broke the silence.

"The apocalypse? Truly?" he asked.

Gabriel looked at Magnus. "Yup. The end is nigh, just sit back and pop some corn."

Only Magnus was the only one who didn't look affronted. Sam quickly spoke up.

"We can stop it." He urged.

The look Gabriel gave him was almost pitying.

"No one can stop it. Come on, I can't be the only one who just wants to get this over with." a look of weariness was there for a split second be he shrugged. "This planet is boring anyway."

Dean angrily replied. "So this isn't about destiny for you, it's because you're too scared to face your family!" he was close to shouting.

"Standing…standing up to family is hard." Alec said unexpectedly.

Everyone rounded on him. Alec flushed with mortification at their scrutiny. He rubbed the back of his neck and kept his eyes downward. Alec stood rigidly, and avoided Magnus, who was staring at him with an inexplicably sad expression. Magnus turned back to Gabriel.

"How about a compromise." He offered. "You know something. Just tell them, and you don't have to help any more than that." Magnus silenced any protests with a look. "It's up to you, but please Loki."

Magnus locked eyes with Gabriel, and for a few moments they simply stared at each other. Whatever was being shared between them was lost on everyone else. To everyone, except for maybe Magnus, Gabriel nodded.

"Yeah, alright."

Magnus led them into his loft, pulling out a slim pink phone.

"Calling another powwow?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"Where is my sister?" Alec suddenly asked sharply. "We got separated, and I want to know what's happened to her." His question was directed at Gabriel.

Many eyes turned accusingly in the archangel's direction, but he was unperturbed.

"Relax, she's probably fine." He sounded amused.

"She better be." Alec warned.

"Hopefully she's in a better place than we were." Dean said.

Alec looked alarmed, and Sam shot his brother a dark look. Dean didn't notice; he was still glaring at Gabriel.

"What the hell was that?" Dean growled. "Sending us through a bunch of videogames?"

"Wasn't Princess Peach hot?" Gabriel asked, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, it could have been worse. I could have trapped you in TV Land and made George Clooney be your boss!"

Sam rolled his eyes, feeling this might actually become the standard response from now on as he pushed Dean forward. Inside, they could see Jace sprawled on the couch, eyes reflecting flickers from the TV.

"Powwow time!" Magnus trilled.

Jace gave the warlock an insolent glare as he hauled himself up into a sitting position. It didn't take long for the loft to fill up again as Clary and Isabelle walked in, with Jo close behind them. The three girls were the only ones that needed to be called. Alec strode over to Isabelle; his worry was evident, but Isabelle was somehow sheepish.

"What happened?" his voice sharp with a typical older brother worry.

Isabelle sighed. "Honestly. I can take care of myself. No, nothing. I thought that when the mannequins came to life, that they were going to attack me." Her tone had an odd mixture of flippancy and embarrassment. "But then the wolf-man gave me a lap dance."

Jace gave a surprised bark of laughter, only stopped when Isabelle threatened violence. Magnus conjured the same table set as he did before, and Gabriel gave himself a lollipop, as coffee appeared beside each seat. Chairs scraped against the floor, and the girls and Jace were treated to a recap of events. Someone made the statement that everyone needed to be more forthcoming.

"So if something jumps out at you," Alec trailed off. "Er…just ask."

"Awkward." Dean muttered.

Jace inclined his head as Magnus pretended to study his nails.

"Well…Valentine is trying to do…something." Clary felt lame for speaking.

"Something?" Jace repeated voice caustic.

"I'm assuming this Valentine is a person and not a holiday?" Gabriel asked. "Who is he and why should I care?"

"Valentine was a Shadowhunter, touted as one of the greatest of all by his people." Magnus said. "He gained a following, their number calling themselves the Circle. He meant to change-"

Jace suddenly cut him off, voice full of poison. "This is what he tried to do fifteen years ago. He instigated a rebellion, that was going to overthrow the Clave, but he failed. That hasn't stopped him. He faked his death so he could keep trying without getting caught." Jace stopped, unable to continue.

Alec and Isabelle exchanged worried glances, while Clary studied the knots in the table.

"The Clave?" Jo asked.

"How'd he fail?" Sam wondered.

Their questions were asked in unison. Alec took over and when he spoke, he gave the air of a professor giving a lecture.

"The Clave is our system of government and its set of rules imposed and protected by the Inquisitor, who in turn, is supervised by the Consul, who interprets the law and advises the council and the Inquisitor." He almost looked weary of giving this information to the hunters.

"Laws?" Jo asked.

"Yes." He said crisply. "We have them to maintain order and our Institutes. It keeps everything running smoothly." He paused briefly. "It's all to protect Idris, our home country, which incidentally, no mundanes are allowed to enter." He looked sternly at the hunters, as if to discourage any desire to go there.

Magnus replied to Sam's question.

"Fifteen years ago, Valentine was planning to overthrow the Clave. This was because they were about to sign a treaty with the Downworlders, and try to prevent wars from breaking out. Before this could happen, Valentine's wife Jocelyn had went to the Clave and warned them about what was to happen. The Shadowhunters and Downworlders reluctantly joined together to stop a wholesale slaughter. When Valentine's followers got there, they were outnumbered and arrested. Only Valentine and a few others managed to escape." Magnus continued. "Valentine was thought to have burned to death in his house, but we now know that is a lie."

"Pretty intense I bet?" Dean assumed.

Magnus nodded. "It was. I was there."

"Why did they oppose the Accords?" Sam asked.

"Because it would mean peace with Downworlders, something Valentine hates." Jace scowled.

"Since Valentine isn't the Clave, he doesn't make the rules." Alec said. "There is still some controversy, but the Accords are updated every fifteen years."

"So if no one wants them, what's the point in having them?" Jo asked. "They don't seem to work that well."

Clary, at least knew what she was talking about, and she was probably sure that everyone else did to. If Jo realized that she had said something potentially offensive, she didn't comment. It was Dean who looked thoughtful now, instead of bored. He rolled his eyes at his brother, who had been leaning forward eagerly at the history. Dean started talking.

"So if Downworlders feel like they're getting shafted, why not just team up to take you guys out?"

This made the Shadowhunters bristle, but it was almost as if they had all agreed, prior to this, not to get aggravated. Alec quickly replied.

"Because they would lose and they know it. We have Clave and Covenant. Something, I assume you hunters don't have?" the question was more like a statement.

Dean gave a wry grin. "We all play on the same team, more or less, but there's no league."

Jace smirked and he and the rest of the Shadowhunters shared a look, as if to say 'That explains a lot.'

Gabriel raised a hand. "I still don't know why I should care."

"Because." Castiel put it, with a touch of impatience. "Valentine has stolen heavenly artifacts' specifically, the Mortal Cup and the Soul-Sword Maellartach."

Gabriel's reaction was immediate as he dropped all his humor. He had actually gone pale.

"Maellartach?! The Maellartach?!"

"It would appear so." Castiel intoned.

"Holy crap!" Gabriel yelped.

"Er…yes. Yes, I had a similar thought myself."

Sam looked grim. "It also sounds like Valentine is working with Lucifer."

Gabriel snorted, but not with disbelief, and Alec and Magnus were alarmed as their companions looked at them in confusion. The Shadowhunters looked disbelieving on top of everything. Clary had a sudden flash of memory, but Jace made an inelegant sound that made her look in his direction. It didn't stop Clary from shivering, and Gabriel was staring at Sam and Dean with undisguised shock.

"Amazing. What is it with you two knuckleheads, huh? You are so boned, even more boned than you were before, which is really saying something."

"Pray tell, why would that be?" Jace drawled unexpectedly.

Gabriel regarded Jace, and there was something almost patronizing, but it went away quickly. He closed his eyes and seemed to be gathering himself. When he opened his eyes, there was some sort of faraway look in them.

"Well fine." He sighed. "It's' because it's one of the most powerful weapons we've got. It's the sword given to both Michael and Lucifer."

"Both?"

"Yup. It was made with the two of them in mind. Dad gave it to them and it was supposed to prove their bond as brothers. That we were all united." He gave a bitter grimace. "I can see why Lucy would want it, even if it hasn't been used in a really long time."

They all stared at Gabriel, forcing him to continue. The archangel made a big show of having to continue.

"There wasn't always a devil, guys. We had only one enemy back in those days. The Ancients."

Jace looked thoughtful. "Are you referring to demons?"

"Huh? So that's what you call them." Gabriel remarked.

"In all honesty, they are nothing like demons." Castiel added unhelpfully.

Gabriel continued. "Obviously not, Hell wasn't even around yet. Anyway, Ancients were the ones we fought and protected Heaven from. That's what all that smiting was originally for."

"What exactly are these ancients?" Sam asked.

"Dunno really; Dad didn't make em'." Gabriel replied.

"They don't have souls either." Castiel added. "Of that much I am certain."

"Ah." Magus replied. "Fascinating."

Castiel inclined his head. "Demons are simply souls that have been warped by living in Hell. They were human once."

As they absorbed the exchange, Alec began to speak to Sam.

"Well, what Gabriel has been calling Ancients, are things that we know about. We've called them demons out of convenience because they don't belong in this world. They are at best, inter-dimensional beings that move from world to world, draining worlds dry. Think of them as locusts, and now they have come to this world. We're the only ones who can stop them. We aren't able to attack them from wherever they come from, or prevent them from entering our plane, but we can kill them as soon as they appear."

This was met with silence as the hunters absorbed this fact. It was a good deal of information, and then it would simply become just another monster to hunt down. Jo was ready with another question.

"People don't notice them because…?"

"There are many things mundanes can't see." Jace said. "We can because of what we are, which is why we're the only ones that can fight them."

The hunters looked a bit doubtful at this, but before they could say anything, Clary unexpectedly piped up.

"Wait-if angels are the enemies of ancients, is that why seraph blades and steles' work?" she asked, already theorizing.

Castiel and Gabriel looked at her askance, and Alec pulled out a slim tube and an even slimmer wand-like object.

"She means these." Alec turned to Clary. "You're probably right, that is a plausible explanation."

"Do you think that's why people say vampires are damned?" she asked voice just small enough to cause concern.

Sam looked ready to say something, but Jace beat him to it.

"Probably. After all, he is a downworlder, so it would make sense."

Clary was crestfallen, but nodded all the same. There was still room for confusion, however, so the conversation continued.

"What do you mean?" asked Jo.

Jace gave her a slightly condescending look. "You hunt them, and you don't even know how they came about?" he sighed. "Downworlders are part demon, part human. When demons first attacked mundanes, their wounds caused strange changes in the victims. For example werewolves and vampires-"

"Are infections." Dean said.

Jace looked annoyed at the interruption, but nodded. "Warlocks are born the way they are, and faeries are the offspring of angels and demons."

This was meet was met with reactions of disgust from Gabriel and Castiel.

"Don't wanna meet the SOB who did that." Gabriel sneered.

"Wait." Jo held up a hand. "This has been bugging me for a while now. At the Dumort and then at the cemetery."

Clary listened avidly; it seemed the same thing had been bothering both of them. Now what she overheard was finally going to make sense.

"That is not how vampires turn. Or how sunlight nearly killed them and holy water worked. All that lore is crap. The only way to kill them is cut off their heads, and they can be weakened by dead mans' blood. Turning only takes a few hours, and they certainly don't need to be buried for it." She stated.

"Well your lore needs some work." Isabelle spoke up dryly.

It could have gone on for a bit more, but Gabriel and Magnus exchanged amused glances. Magnus clapped his hands for attention and Gabriel heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"Guys." He called, holding up a hand. "Two versions. Both true. Ancients screwed up a lot of things, and Downworlders are real because of them. So are what those guys-" he pointed to the hunters. "Hunt. It works both ways."

"So each set of monsters originated from different sources, which is why they are different?" Sam asked.

"Bingo."

"OK fine, but why haven't we come across em' before?" Dean asked.

Jace gave him a withering look. "We haven't heard of yours either."

Clary spoke again. "Oh I think I know this. Shadowhunters have institutes, which sound more like outposts to Idris, the home front, but institutes are only in really big cities, so Shadowhunters can take care of them. The demons, sorry, ancients can't be seen and Downworlders usually keep to themselves. Plus, Shadowhunters keep them in line."

"That," Magnus seconded, "and both sides probably aren't noticing the signs of the other, since they won't be looking for them."

"Guess that kills my apocalypse theory." Sam said.

"Ah well, it sucked anyway." Dean pointed out.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he looked speculative. "Huh. So that's why Cas took one look at the faeries and nearly hulked out." This was met with stares. "What? Dean was right; you were acting weird."

Castiel suddenly looked embarrassed. He addressed Magnus with contrition.

"I must apologize for my behavior when we first met. I had no understanding of that compulsion."

Magnus waved it away. "No worries." He jerked a thumb at Gabriel. "He was the same way when we first met."

"How did you two meet anyway?" Alec asked, somewhat peevishly.

Gabriel spared Alec only a single glance, but he and Magnus stared at each other again. They smiled as if remembering an old joke.

"Ah that." Magnus said softly, unable to stifle a grin.

"That." Gabriel pretended to be thoughtful. "That is a long, boring story that requires no elaboration what so ever."

This weirded the others out, which was probably Magnus and Gabriel's intention all along.

"Alec." Castiel spoke. "I am curious to know more about your weaponry." He stated.

Alec blinked. "Oh. Alright."

Alec pulled out a slender tube and a wand-like instrument. He pointed to the latter first.

"We call this a stele. They write out the runes we use."

"The language I saw." Castiel stated. "It is similar to Enochian."

"The language of Heaven?" Alec asked.

"Yes. We have spoken and written it since the beginning."

"Fascinating." Alec breathed. "We use our runes for just about anything, and they leave these."

Alec held up his arm. The hunters had to squint to see anything definite, but Castiel could see them clearly. They were scars, white and thin, crisscrossing over each other many times over. They had the same shape and lines as some of the runes Castiel had already seen before. He could still faintly read what they used to say. It wasn't the scars, however, that got the hunters attention; they had some of their own. No, it was the thick lines that look painted on the skin. Swirling, and complex patterns that looked weaved onto the skin, like they had been etched in ink. Castiel read them; each one had a specific purpose, promising balance and speed. Castiel let his hands grip Sam and Dean's arms, and managed to brush his fingers against Jo's sleeve. It gave the three a better glimpse at what they were seeing, and they peered at the lines.

Jace looked on with amused disdain at their scrutiny, Isabelle bored, and Alec faintly embarrassed. Clary couldn't blame them; no one liked being gawked at, but at the same time, she remembered how it felt when she first met the Lightwoods and just how fascinated she was at the inky black runes that contrasted so sharply with Jace's golden skin…

"Only Shadowhunters can wear these. Mundanes simply can't handle getting marks, and if they do, they lose their minds and become monsters, or what we call Forsaken. On us, they simply leave scars; our badges of honor."

Alec did indeed sound proud when he said that. He put the stele down and held up the slender tube. It was a pale grey color and looked cool to the touch.

"This is a seraph blade. Their power is drawn from the invocation of an angelic name. We name them, and they are the only things that can kill demons."

Castiel was absorbing this. "I find this all strange. I can feel an energy about all of you, and your instruments. When you used your seraph blade I felt it; they do seem to be alive somehow, but you have no grace yourself so-"

Gabriel groaned. "Oh come on, can't you tell bro'? They're Nephilim."

Castiel nodded, but still looked shocked. "I had a theory, but I'm still not sure how it is possible."

"After everything we've seen?" Dean asked.

"Hey I don't know how it happened either." Gabriel defended his brother. "It was like one day, poof here they are."

"I'm a little surprised you don't know this." Magnus mused, mostly to himself.

"I haven't been upstairs in a long time. Extended vacation." Gabriel reminded him.

"Point taken." Magnus conceded. "Well according to legend, one thousand years ago a man named Jonathan Shadowhunter had summoned the Angel Raziel and asked for his aid."

Dean snorted. The Shadowhunters shot him dark looks, but he did nothing to apologize. Sam elbowed him and Magnus continued.

"Legend varies on how he had done so, or who was with him when he had done this, but all sources agree that Raziel did appear before him. He told the Angel of mankind's plight and his desire to lessen it. The Angel gave him a cup, mixing his own blood with that of Jonathan Shadowhunter, and Raziel gave it to him to drink."

Sam and Dean looked disgusted at this, with Sam quickly looking away. Clary couldn't blame them; she didn't really want to think about blood anytime soon. She didn't really want to see anyone's reaction right now.

"That is how Jonathan Shadowhunter became the first Shadowhunter, or rather, Nephilim. It has been passed down onto his children and their children, and so on. Nephilim consider it a sacred duty to destroy demon kind while safeguarding humankind and to keep Downworlders in line."

"So that's how they got their hands on Maellartach." Gabriel said after a length.

He said Maellartach with an odd inflection, like the leftovers of some out of place accent.

"Did you ever know Raziel?" Magnus asked.

"Hmm?" Gabriel snapped back to attention. "Not personally no. Although that explains a lot; if that happened just one thousand years ago, it makes sense that no one really heard of Nephilim."

"Let me guess." Dean said. "'God has left the building.'" He quoted.

Gabriel's eyes darkened, but he didn't comment.

"It wouldn't surprise me if senior management wanted to keep them hushed up." He said.

His words were said lightly enough, but there was something ominous about the words themselves and the Shadowhunters kept glancing at each other. Jace in particular was regarding this with sharp eyes. Gabriel seemed to remember something and spoke again.

"So Maellartach. If my brothers, either of them, get a hold of this thing, its game over."

"Right." Jace said. "About that, why should we be so certain about the devil getting a hold of the Soul-Sword? Last time I checked, Valentine is the one who stole it."

Gabriel met Jace's gold gaze with a clinical stare. Jace clenched his jaw at the look; it was somehow invasive, but it was over as quickly as it happened and the somewhat satisfied look was enough to make Jace want to hit him.

"Because I just took a peak in your noggin'; the person with the black eyes?" Gabriel watched Jace suppress a wince. "Yeah, that was a demon. That's what people look like when their possessed. My bro' uses em' as flunkies, so he'd know about the sword."

"So Valentine is working with the devil? Well no surprises there." Isabelle huffed.

"The devil-Lucifer is really real?" Clary finally asked, sounding both apprehensive and skeptical.

"Yes." Sam answered. "I know it's hard to take in, but yeah it's real."

Clary stared at Sam for a moment, before leaning back in her seat.

"So all your talk about the apocalypse is because of this?" Jace asked, sharp with scrutiny. "Isn't that a bit much? The world doesn't really need Lucifer's help with that."

Dean nodded in wry agreement. "Well it's happening."

Gabriel snapped his fingers suddenly and Dean flinched, when nothing seemed to happen, he relaxed. Jace looked amused at the reaction an opened his mouth. There was a loud, obnoxious squeak, as though a brightly colored toy had been stepped on. It was the kind of sound that was usually associated with pets and small children, and it was coming from Jace. He tried to speak again and the sound came out in place of words.

Jace squeaked several times and quite a few individuals had to suppress sniggers. Jace went a bit pink, but accepted it with grace; he squeaked out a few replies that probably needed no translation.

Isabelle turned to Gabriel. "What does that prove?" she sound both amused and exasperated.

"Nothing." Gabriel said airily.

Jace squeaked out something. His expression was deadly serious, which was at horrendous odds with the cartoony sounds.

"Sorry what was that?"

"Oh just change him back already!' Isabelle snapped.

"-I said how does Lucifer affect the apocalypse?" Jace rasped.

"He will fight his brother Michael on the battlefield to catastrophic effect." Castiel's voice was scraping with grave fact.

"The battlefield being Earth," Dean supplied. "Their showdown will roast the planet and they don't care who gets in the way."

Jace's face twisted in bitterness. "So you think the devil's going to win." It was a statement.

"Not if we can help it." Sam's voice was filled with determination.

Clary wasn't sure who Sam was reminding her of at that moment, but she felt an odd thrill go through her; this was real, really real. A gut feeling like this couldn't be ignored, but she did have one question which surprised her with its intensity.

"Why does it have to be you guys?" she asked. "It's not like Nephilim; you don't have to do this."

"Yes we do." Dean replied.

"Besides," Sam started.

Clary's gut feeling intensified; she felt like she was about to know some horrible secret. Almost like knowing the rug was about to be pulled out from under your feet in the micro-second before it happened. She wasn't sure how much more weirdness she could take in today, or her life. Just how much could she handle before she exploded from the strangeness. Clary grabbed her forearm, rubbing the blackened mark for reassurance. Sam started speaking again.

"Besides, it's because we started it." His voice was shaking. "It's our fault, we started the apocalypse. Releasing Lucifer from his prison triggered it. I'm not proud of what I did and maybe it's arrogant to think we can take it back, but it's better than sitting back and watching the world burn."

Clary shivered at the intensity and she thought she could taste his guilt. She could tell that's what it was; it was obvious. Clary could understand all of it; something about the pain, the way it charged the air made her almost want to step back and stay far away from them. Clary twisted her ankles around her chair to keep herself from actually doing so. She pressed her hand harder to her forearm. Clary stole peeks at the others; to say they looked uncomfortable would be an understatement, but she assumed they all felt the same. The oppressive atmosphere made everything go silent and she saw Jace give the two men an expression she couldn't really decipher, but somehow similar to Deans'.

Clary looked at Dean, who was boldly looking at them, as if daring the other. Clary had a flash of insight; he was protecting his brother, as good as a physical shield, and then another insight came to her. They would not go into the details, not even if they were begged.

Gabriel's chair scraped abrasively as he abruptly stood up. Everyone jumped; he moved to the door.

"Wait!"

He turned expectantly.

"You're an angel!" Alec blurted out.

"Umm duh."

"So you could help." Clary nodded rapidly. "Just go back and ask for reinforcements or something."

"Not happening." Dean said.

Clary wondered if her shock was visible.

"They knew the danger of Lucifer breaking free of his prison and they did nothing." Castiel said.

"Means' they wanted this to happen." Dean said, anger making his voice shake.

Jace looked at Dean, and he could almost feel the irony spreading on his face. Somehow he could not muster any effort to feel surprised. He suddenly remembered the night Clary asked him if he believed in God. Jace failed to suppress derisive laughter; did this mean that he should repent? He resisted the bizarre, out of place urge to sympathize with Dean.

Jace turned to look at Gabriel, almost in a last ditch effort for assurance. The archangel made a shrugging motion, as if to say 'hey, what are you gonna do?' Jace felt he disgust rise in his chest.

"Pretty much." said Gabriel.

"So you could-" Alec called out. "We could-"

Jace could see the shock on Alec's face; he knew his foster brother thought Gabriel's reaction was a slap in the face, and suddenly Jace was angry on Alec's behalf.

"Look." Gabriel cut Alec off. "I don't put too much stock in some bright eyed brats from the big apple. Even if they know a friend." He inclined his head to Magnus.

Sam watched the exchange with an odd tight feeling in his gut. Asking Gabriel was pointless, and it took him a moment to realize that he somehow had gotten his hopes up. Gabriel listened to them, even been congenial in his own twisted way, but Sam remembered when he lost his temper and that was sleeping beneath the archangel. Sam blinked in response to a sharp pang inside him.

Dean was looking at Gabriel with a mixture of anger and disgust. "You're an asshole you know that?"

Gabriel gave him a smug smile. "It's so flattering that you'd notice."

The temperature changed suddenly, and Sam thought back on Alec's words; conversations jumbling up and together.

"Standing up to family is hard."

"C'ome on, am I the only one who wants to be over?"

"Why does it have to be you guys?"

It was more than sadness, less than understanding, and something different from pity. He didn't know what it was, only that it was giving him a headache to try and figure it out. Sam had no idea what the look on his face was, or why that seemed to matter, but before he knew it, or could help it, he voiced his question to Gabriel.

"What happened to you up there?"

Was it horror or fascination in his voice? Gabriel blinked, almost with shock, as though he had never been asked that before. Something flashed behind his eyes before being replaced with a very obvious anger.

"None of your damn business."

Sam was taken aback by the vehemence of the response.

"Screw this noise."

Gabriel disappeared. They stared at the spot where he had been just a second before. Magnus grimaced, suddenly looking ancient. The silence weighed down like humidity. Clary watched Sam and Dean look at each other as if they might be gathering themselves and brushing dust from their clothes. Dean gave Sam an 'I told you so' look, which Sam replied with a weary shrug. There was something in Sam's eyes that confused her, but she brushed it aside. She could see Castiel was staring at the bare spot with sadness.

Almost as if Clary couldn't help it, her eyes invariably drew her to Jace. His expression was intense and closed off, as if lost in thought. He seemed to sense her staring and looked straight back at her, suddenly boring into her. Clary turned away as if burned. She didn't see his flinch of pain or his aggrieved expression.

"Well," he said. "Who's up for Parcheesi?"

His light, but forced tone snapped everyone out of it, and they sat back into their chairs, almost like puppets.

"So if we wanna take down Lucifer, we gotta get the sword." Jo hedged.

"Seems like it." Sam replied.

"How do you intend to do that?" asked Jace. "Just shoot him?" his voice as filled with sarcasm.

"Yeah actually." Dean snapped. "Got any bright ideas chuckles?"

Jace sneered, but before he could reply, Magnus held up a hand. Clary was relieved; it stopped the beginnings of an argument.

"Enough."

"Magnus is right. If it really is a case of Valentine working with the Devil, then we need to take this seriously." Alec pointed out.

"How?" Isabelle asked. "How can it be done?" there was a briskness in her tone, all business mode.

"Stopping Valentine first right?" asked Clary.

"Where is this Valentine?" Castiel asked.

"We don't know." Magnus said. "I've used a tracking spell, but so far nothing."

"Everything hinges on the conversion ritual…" Clary mused. "So what can we do to stop him from murdering people?"

"Well, its kids' right?" Jo asked. "Downworlder children."
" Technically, anyone who is below the age of eighteen so yes." Isabelle replied.

"Well I doubt a curfew would work." Jace pointed out.

"Yeah." Dean agreed readily. "It'd be too easy to ignore."

"Actually, it's not a bad idea." Alec said.

Jace turned to look at him. "How? By locking them in their rooms?"

Alec was aggrieved, but before he could reply, Jo beat him with to the punch.

"How about making up a list of who the targets could be?" she suggested.

"That'll take a while." Isabelle said, looking doubtful. "A list of all the Downworlder minors in New York City?"

"Valentine will kill them before that happens." Jace said.

"Oh come on, it's not like he's going to drive out to Yonkers to pick someone." Clary snapped.

"It does seem to be difficult," Alec said, but he continued at Clary's look. "But it's better than nothing."

"Plus its' only vampires and werewolves." Jo said.

Jace snorted at that, but agreed all the same.

"I'll talk to Luke." Clary quickly explained who that was. "Then he can talk to the Lightwoods'."

"We can tell Mom about it when we get back." Isabelle said, voice delicate, as though she was trying very hard not to crush something underfoot. She gave Jace a brief smile. "She can talk to Raphael."

"Question." Jace raised a finger. "Just what do you plan on telling Maryse? The whole truth? Because, no offense, but it's a bit much to swallow, even for us."

Dean shrugged. "None taken."

"He does have a point." Alec said.

"Just say the list idea." Clary insisted. "We'll worry about the rest later."

"So, we're really doing this? Working together I mean?" Jo asked.

Jace waved a hand as if to say 'sure why not', and there were some terse nods; Magnus gave a half-smile, which spoke for him. Jo visibly relaxed, and Dean looked ready to tease her for it. Jo gestured for a cell phone and Sam handed his over. Jo stood up and walked away from the table, quickly dialing. Sam was looking toward her, while Dean studiously ignored Jace and his Lightwood siblings, who began to speak in low tones that were clearly not meant for Dean's ears.

"Is this a good idea?" Alec asked. "Allying ourselves with mundanes?"

Isabelle was impatient. "Why not?"

Jace sighed. "You saw their trunk. They have weapons, so I think they figure they might know what they're doing. Crazy as he-"

Alec furiously interrupted him. "Exactly! Mundane weapons, which won't do much good against a demon, let alone Valentine!"

"Then why didn't you speak up before?" Jace asked.

Alec, to his credit, colored slightly. "Because I didn't want to be insulting."

Isabelle asked again. "Why not? This could be helpful."

"Because it sounds as if they don't have any rules. You heard him, 'no league'."

"That might be a good thing." Jace spoke up, voice strange.

Alec was almost aghast, but there was a look of understanding in his eyes. Isabelle had a look of almost pity, but there was something fierce about her gaze. They looked like a family.

"Jace." Alec began.

"Not having to deal with…" Jace was unable to voice the rest of his thoughts as his eyes darkened.

"Jace." Alec stated, simply to say the name.

"Don't." Jace said. "Besides,"

Not it was Alec's turn to cut him off. "They could get seriously hurt, and besides," he put quotations on 'besides'. "You told me about what happened in the Faerie Court. Imagine what disaster could have occurred if Dean had pulled the trigger. Jace, the rules are there for a reason. Just because there is one unpleasant person doesn't mean that the whole-"

"Enough." Jace snapped. "I understand what you're telling me."

Jace stared fiercely back at Alec, who did not shy away. Alec was almost pleading with his gaze, but something in the way Jace sat prevented either sibling from touching him, or moving any closer. Jace's face was cooling into a hard mask and his gold eyes turned inward, which made Alec look all the sadder. He flicked his eyes to Isabelle, knowing they needed to change the subject.

"Either way." Isabelle said. "Their idea about the lists is worth trying."

"What will we tell mom?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "That it was our idea of course."

Jace snorted. "I don't think she'd believe us, and I know the Inquisitor won't."

Before either could reply, Jo snapped the phone shut with an audible click. She handed the phone back to Sam, and then addressed the group.

"That was my mom. She'll be here by tomorrow at the latest." Jo stated. "She also said that Bobby will be on standby and he's been trying to get a hold of Rufus and a couple of others."

"Hunting runs in the family huh?" Jace inquired with a slight leer.

Jo gave him a tight smile. "You'd be surprised."

At the same time, Alec and Sam began to speak. Sam waved away Alec's offer to let him go first. Alec cleared his throat.

"I'm not sure exactly how you plan on killing the devil."

Dean was more than willing to answer the question. He quickly stood up and went for something in his bag. He came back to the table, and set down the gun as he sat back down. Gleaming and deadly, the engraved words were like a promise.

Alec exhaled softly. "I thought you were being sarcastic."

"Nope." Dean pointed at the gun. "There's an old legend about this gun. It was made by Samuel Colt in 1835, and when it was first made, it came with thirteen bullets. This gun can kill anything."

His hand was resting next to it, but Clary had a feeling that he could bring it in his hands with just one movement. She remembered the reactions of the fey in the Seelie Court and now understood their reaction better. Maybe not all of them knew it for being something other than iron and death, but the Seelie Queen sure knew what it was.

"Well all myths are true." Jace said with a shrug.

"Yes." Magnus stepped in. "Now, I hope nobody came here just for the chest thumping." He turned to the Shadowhunters. "You may not consider it need to know, but there are quite a few who know of the Shadow World, so to speak. These aren't the only hunters out there." Magnus turned to the hunters. "Humility isn't a strong suit of the Nephilim. Although I doubt that it is yours either."

"Fair enough." Sam replied.

Jace shrugged with insolence, as if he didn't deny the statement, but his eyes were penetrating and unafraid to meet Dean's eyes. There was a challenge in the younger man's eyes; the gold was bright and hard. Dean didn't look amused, but he didn't look particularly upset either. He seemed to be resigned to the scrutiny, and he continued to evaluate with his green eyes. Alec looked at them with a thoughtful, if grim expression. Isabelle only glanced at their contest and she instead looked at Jo. She tilted her chin imperiously, but there was curiosity in her expression. Out of all of them, she studied Jo the most. As a fellow female who was surrounded by men, it made Isabelle curious as to what the hunter could do. Isabelle felt she was being examined as critically as she was doing; or at the very least, meeting Isabelle's gaze with a steady one of her own. The blonde dressed more plainly Isabelle did, but she was pretty, in an unexpected way. She was curvy, but not as tall as Isabelle. Isabelle wondered if Jo made men nervous. She wondered if that was why Simon let her follow him, or if there were a deeper reason. That made her think of The Dumort, and how Jo managed to come out of there alive when Simon could not. Isabelle honestly didn't know Jo's skill level, and that bothered her; did being the only female in a field dominated by men mean that they had something in common?

Castiel seemed confused with by all the confrontation that was going around the room. He glanced at Dean, and then met the eyes of Clary, who had been staring at Jace. When she tore her gaze away from Jace, she looked at Castiel and the two stared at one another. Clary gave him a tight smile and Castiel was curious about the oddness of her expression, and he could sense something about her was different from her fellow Nephilim. He tilted his head in puzzlement; Clary almost giggled at the mannerism, but she seemed to sense someone else looking at her. It was Jace, and Clary flushed, lowering her eyes to the table. Jace swiveled his head, and Clary avoided his gaze.

Annoyed at the end of the staring contests, Jace scowled, and Sam elbowed his brother in exasperation. Jo and Isabelle leaned back in their seats and waited for whatever was coming next. Clary broke the spell by speaking.

"Well, I'm going to tell Luke about this. I'll help him make the list; he'll call the Institute soon and work it out."

Isabelle looked at her. "Well I guess that's my cue to go too."

They broke up their meeting rather quickly, chairs scraping as people tried to keep out of each other's way. Clary left with Isabelle, not glancing back at anyone, least of all Jace. Alec quickly strode forward to follow them, evading Magnus's outstretched hand. He murmured something to his sister, too low for Clary to hear, but she moved quickly out of the way, feeling Jace's eyes on her the entire way.

SPNTMI

Clary hurried out as soon as she could down to the subway. Clary's mind was racing with all that had been said and what was still a mystery. She really hoped Luke was home, because she was bursting with the knowledge she carried.

Clary moved through familiar streets, heart pounding. Seeing Luke's place, she took the steps two at a time and Clary felt her hands struggle with the door knob.

"Hello?" Anyone home?" she called.

"In here."

Clary walked into the small kitchen. Luke was sitting beside the small circular table, a cup of coffee held in between his hands. He looked tired and worn, and there was stubble that Clary was sure hadn't been there yesterday. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and there was weariness in his being, but when he saw Clary he smiled, and it made his expression all better.

Luke was not alone in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter with dark, watchful eyes was Simon. He didn't look particularly happy either, but that cleared slightly when he saw her. Clary shivered; she used to be able to read Simon, but now she just couldn't anymore. Was it his vampirism? He seemed so different now, and Clary missed him with a fierce ache that was startling in its intensity, and Clary mentally shook herself, trying to dislodge the feeling. Simon was still in one piece and standing right there.

"Hey."

"Hi." He finally gave her a smile.

She wanted to ask him how he was getting on, but that seemed stupid. She hadn't seen him since the night he had turned and Luke had driven him home. Clary and Jace were with them and she cried the whole way there, unable to draw any comfort. She flinched away from Jace's touch and unwilling to bring herself to pull away. She had hurt Simon by doing that. Clary would not let anything else happen to Simon, something she should have been doing the entire time. Jace's words couldn't, shouldn't matter. For Simon the boy she…

Clary looked at the two of them, affection bursting suddenly in her chest and she just as suddenly didn't want to tell them her news. It was almost too much for her and she knew it would change everything. Both of them were looking carefully at her, and Clary wondered if she looked as grave as she felt.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked.

"You won't believe the day I've had." Clary nearly babbled. "Like, really. People say that, but now I know what they mean."

Clary went up to the cupboard to get a glass and filled it with water. She took a sip before speaking. She told them what happened that day, starting with the call everyone got about the Pandemonium, meeting another angel, the reveal of the apocalypse, the story of demons and the sword, and Valentine's supposed partnership with the devil. Everything that had been exchanged at Magnus's place and Clary even backtracked to a few days prior, just to cover all her bases.

When she was finally finished, there was a shocked silence. Luke and Simon had matching expressions of incredulity and maybe just a trace of fear. Clary was amazed at herself when she shrugged in response.

"I know right? But I think it's the truth."

"Wow." Simon breathed. "That's a lot to take in."

"Yeah." Clary nodded.

"Well." Luke paused, shaking his head. "One thing at a time. Drawing up a list of downworlders will take some time, so we'll start with that. I'll call up the pack and give the list to Maryse as soon as I can, which might make it easier for her to accept."

Luke sounded as if he were holding something back.

"Why would it be easier to accept?" Simon asked probably to get to a safer topic.

Luke hesitated briefly and just gave them another comment.

"It will be difficult because the downworlders will be hard pressed to cooperate."

"Or maybe because some else had the idea." Simon muttered.

Luke looked close to agreeing as Clary shot Simon an annoyed look, but she didn't press the point as she stated loudly.

"Well why wouldn't they? We have to stop Valentine, so who cares how it gets done?"

Luke sighed warily, running a hand through his hair and suddenly he looked very old. Clary felt a twinge of regret; danger seemed to be following them wherever they went and it didn't look like it would let up any time soon. Simon looked at them both and made an odd shrugging motion.

"So…apocalypse? Is that related to Valentine, who just happened to be working with the devil? The Devil?"

Simon didn't wait for a reply. Clary had a feeling that he was more inclined to believe her than Luke.

"Just when I thought things couldn't get weirder. I just want things to be normal again."

Clary grimaced. "I don't think that'll happen soon. Weird seems to be going around." She paused. "I've been meaning to say, but I think I should get some marks. I am a Shadowhunter after all."

"What?" Simon asked, sounding shocked.

Luke looked up from his search for pencil and paper in surprise at Simon's tone. Clary wasn't quite indignant, but Simon's tone had put her on edge. Maybe it was some hidden sharpness beneath it, a sort of disturbed quality. It added to her already tight nerves, so she spoke more harshly than intended.

"Why not? I need protection, the more the better. All these things won't leave me alone if I just pretend it doesn't exist." Clary shifted, pulling out and holding up her stele. "This used to be my mother's and it the only thing that was ever really real about her and she didn't even give it to me. Luke did."

It was silent; Luke was watching them carefully, with sad cloudy eyes. Simon slumped, looking contrite.

Simon nodded. "I just thought you'd want to be normal." He whispered.

"Normal is overrated." Clary countered.

Simon looked at her in a way that suggested he would like to say something. He took a barely audible breath; Clary waited for whatever unpredictable thing he was going to say. Simon swallowed down whatever he was going to say, and replied with this instead.

"Really? I'll never have normal again. I'll even miss school."

Simon's simple reply knocked the breath out of Clary. It was all her fault.

She was aghast. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

Simon shook it off hurriedly. "I know. I know you didn't. I just-" Simon broke off, and when he was able to continue, his voice was strained. "I just don't know what to do. I have to stay indoors all the time; my mom thinks I'm sick. She keeps bringing me food, and I have to throw it away. What'll happen when she takes me to a doctor? They'll see that I don't have a heartbeat and then what? What about school or band practice, or-" he choked on his words. "I don't know what to do."

"Oh Simon." Clary breathed, unable to say anything else.

Luke stopped his search and put his hand on Simon's shoulder. Luke's hand was huge against Simon's body, making him seem smaller and much younger than he actually was. Simon looked up at Luke, eyes wide as a doe's and far darker than Clary remembered them to be. They had always been a coffee brown, a burst of color when seen up close, now they seemed even deeper and more lustrous than before.

Simon stared back at Luke; the older man's face was filled with anguish for the younger, as if remembering his own sadness. His grip on Simon looked tight, but Simon didn't protest, almost as if he wanted it. Simon seemed to crave an anchor. Luke's face was not filled with pity, but filled with understanding. There was something else, almost as if he was frightened for Simon, and what he would have to endure.

"You should tell your family." Luke quietly urged. "It'll be hard, but it's something you have to do."

"How?" Simon's voice was small, cracking under a huge weight. "I'll have to convince them vampires are real before I can say I am them." He added, "Did you? Tell your family, I mean."

Luke's grave eyes, filled with more sorrow. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

His voice held something glass-like in his voice, but it was oddly finite; supportive, but somehow the subject seemed taboo, even if he didn't want it to be that way.

"We'll come with you." Clary blurted out. "If-if you want."

Simon looked at her, his vulnerability hitting her in the face. His stunned expression took her by surprise; he looked like he did when he was small and Clary had offered to share her favorite toy when his broke.

"Really?"

She flashed back to the time when they first held hands as children. Clary suddenly felt like crying.

"Of course."

Simon stared back at her, and then suddenly ducked his head, nodding rapidly.

"Thank you."

SPNTMI

The Hunter's Moon was jammed packed that night; lycanthropes from different parts of the city came together. There was her pack of course, the ones that lived in the abandoned police station that mundanes believed to be an old Chinese take-out place. It was where they spent the nights when they didn't have to change, hanging out with the only family that they now had. That's what lycanthropes did; wherever they came from didn't matter anymore, no matter what someone's past was, they were welcome. She liked the one she had. Luke was the best leader they had so far, since pack leaders came and went, but so far Luke was her favorite. He was nice and not too handsome that she wouldn't be able to trust him, and he was steady. Whenever they had to change, roaming through the city, there was nothing to fear. Then they'd come here, to Freaky Pete's bar to drink away the pain of their transformations. She was glad she got to meet so many people; as long as you turned furry and got down on all fours once a month, you were welcome.

"Hey Maia."

Maia turned and saw Bat. He may not have been one of the overnighters, were who slept in the police station, but he was a familiar face. Bat was a tall guy, nearly over seven feet, with thick muscles all over. She remembered those muscles; once upon a time they had dated. That was all over now, but they had still managed to be friends, and wherever they went they could still turn heads.

They may have looked similar in a way; lycanthropes tended to have signs of what they were, of hard living, but other than that they were a study in contrasts. Bat was tall and buff. Maia, who was compact and curvy. Her dusky, honey colored skin was darker than his, which was barely tanned. Maia's hair was thick and curly, braided into tiny rows, whereas Bat was bald. He had multiple tattoos and piercings, but Maia had only adorned herself with homemade bands of jewelry. They both had scars, however; Bat had a large melted welt on the side of his face. He said he had gotten it from silver powder, burned into his skin from an old fight. Maia's was a long jagged cut that started at her throat and ended on her shoulder. It came from the bite that turned her into a werewolf.

"Here"

Bat was holding two tall glasses of something dark and foamy. She took one with a grin of thanks. She was just glad no one asked her to dance; she wasn't really in the mood for a rough, sweaty night.

"Crowded tonight huh?" Bat said. "Think someone will have a party after this?"

"Maybe." Maia wouldn't mind if that were true.

Maia scanned the crowd. She could see the thick toughened bodies of werewolves mingling with each other. Her girlfriends Amabel and Éclair were talking to a group of men with hearty blushes. She recognized a few of Bat's drinking buddies from their old hang outs. They greeted Bat with raucous shouts. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a delicate looking lycanthrope boy wearing a leather jacket speaking to Freaky Pete, the bartender. The boys said something and Freaky Pete laughed as the boy made his way to the door.

"-Yeah, take it easy Joseph." Freaky Pete called.

Maia took another swig of her drink as a broad shouldered man caught her eye and grinned. She raised an eyebrow in wry surprise. The man made his way over to her, easily wading through the crowd. Maia didn't recognize him.

"Hey." He said when he got close. He had a very deep voice.

He was nearly as tall as Bat, his body managing to be both broad and slim. He was a wearing red dress shirt underneath his thick looking dark jacket. His shirt was open at the collar, skin showing, with a small scar peeking through. It was lighter than the rest of his skin, which was smooth as a girl's, even on his chest. The hair he did have was a rich auburn, waving all the way down to his nape. He had a small goatee that somehow managed to be pulled off. When he smiled at her again, Maia could see he had very white teeth. He was handsome, in a way. Not too handsome that it put her on edge. His features weren't what would pass for conventional beauty. He was probably considered good looking because of his personality, which seemed nice.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

His eyes unsubtly raked her up and down. Maia, unabashed, did the same. She was still deciding on him. Bat must have sensed her hesitation because he moved closer to both her and the redhead.

"She's already got one."

The redhead's eyes wavered along, with his smile, but he didn't move. He gave Maia a rakish wink. Inside, she fluttered a bit, but she didn't let it on as Bat on the redhead sized each other up.

"But her glass is empty." He pointed.

His voice was innocent as a boy's, but deep as a man's and his eyes, which were a rich hazel, were filled to the brim with mischief. Maia had to hold back a laugh. She rolled her eyes as the two men stared at each other. The redhead didn't look like he wanted to cause trouble, but wouldn't mind being in the middle of some.

After the night that the Shadowhunter boy tore up the Hunter's Moon and picked a fight with the entire pack was something she'd never forget. Bat wouldn't either. Bat was one of the many who charged in for a chance to put the boy in his place, but had gotten trounced for his trouble. Ever since then, Bat had been itching to fight someone to boost his pride, and this redheaded man looked like just that someone.

If Maia was in a flirtier mood, she'd be a bit more willing to let them fight. A part of her wanted to watch the two powerful men fight each other, it was one of those things weres did best. However, Maia just wasn't feeling it tonight. She set down her glass, and ignoring the two guys' looks, walked away from them with a sway in her hips. Maia waved goodbye to Freaky Pete and tugged open the door.

The early autumn air swirled around her face. She blew out a sigh and felt the chill seep into her skin. Maia shut the door behind her, losing the warmth and the loud sounds of the bar. Looking up, she could see the moon hanging in the sky. It was almost full, meaning Maia's senses were sharpening themselves in preparation. The moon was higher in the sky than the steel of the city, which weaved themselves beneath the night, large crosses of metal that offset the ethereal of what was above them. It was oddly beautiful, to see the grime on the ground, oil-riddled rain water glimmering with the moon's reflection. Graffiti scrawled all over the stone of the walls. The tagging was recent, so the colors were bright as blood on snow. Trash made a cacophony of sound as it moved in the breeze and swirled at her feet. A half empty beer bottle came to rest at her feet, its glass surface glinted from the moonlight, which lit the liquid inside the bottle, and making the liquor look as thick and bright as precious amber.

The scent of iron was everywhere, overwhelming her with its industrial scent; it was a heavy stench, almost familiar. Now the chilled wind raised the hairs on her neck and the breeze carried a faint sound that she had to strain to hear over the teeming traffic just beyond her.

There was a faint gurgling and an excited growling beside it. Maia wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved or alarmed. It sounded as though she was about to walk in on a pair of lycanthropes that couldn't wait for anything more private. It was time to leave. Maia pushed herself away from the wall. Her foot touched the glass bottle, sending it spinning. It finally stopped by the other wall, the sound clattering and echoing. The strange noises suddenly stopped. The bottle shimmered in the half light of moon and shadow, light glittering on its surface. Maia peered into the darkness; she could see a figure crouched over someone else, who was writhing on the ground. Maia felt the heat come up into her face, and underneath her embarrassment she could feel something else trembling. The figure looked up. Whoever it was was still in shadow and she was not. Maia could feel the shaft of moonlight dousing her body. She was perfectly visible while the figure was not.

The growling came back, louder and deeper this time. It sounded like a lycanthrope fully changed, but something was off about it. Maia had never heard one of her own kind sound like that. So ominous and deep throated. It wasn't raspy, but had a quality that didn't feel real. It was making her heart pound uncomfortably in her chest. She raised her hands up.

"Sorry." She called awkwardly.

The growling didn't stop; anyone else and Maia would have asked them what their problem was, but something told her not to. Maia stared hard; someone in wolf form would be noticeable, dark as it was. Neither figure was transformed. The growling sound seemed to come from the air, as if it simply materialized. Maia pricked her ears, vaguely surprised that they had grown larger and tufted. She had no idea where the sound was coming from, but it was getting closer to her now. Maia pulled back her lips to show her teeth. The figure slowly moved from its crouch, standing up. Its back was to a streetlight that was farther down the alley, which casted a long shadow and backlit the figure. Maia instantly saw that it was female and was standing over the now still figure on the ground. Their bodies' shadows played with the competing streetlight and moonlight. Maia's eyes were drawn to something the female was holding. Something sharp; the choking metallic smell wasn't coming from the city's metal.

"Oopsie."

The voice crooned. The female's voice was teasing and something about it set Maia's teeth on edge. The female lifted the gleaming sharpness in her hand. The moon's glow exploded off its surface. A silver knife. Maia's gasp quickly became a growl and the woman laughed. Something bright was just at the edges of Maia's vision. At first she thought it was just an odd spattering of graffiti. It took all her willpower to tear her eyes away from the silver knife in the woman's hand. Finally she got a look at who was lying on the ground, really get a look; more light tumbled onto the person. It was the boy who made Freaky Pete laugh.

Joseph. He was dead.

The air sealed itself out of Maia's lungs, which seemed to press flat as they expelled anything in them. It was knocked out of her in a rush. Sounds washed out, fading into nonexistence and she ignored the odd buzzing that filled her ears. A strange voice inside her mind chanted the words.

'He's dead, he's dead, he's dead.'

A small part of her brain was wondering why she hadn't noticed sooner, or needed any light to do so. She could see perfectly now; improved werewolf vision getting all of the detail in crisp high definition. The body was sprawled awkwardly and was possessed with a heavy stillness, not even possessed. He possessed nothing now, no vital spark that told he had ever been alive. What she had earlier mistaken for passionate writhing was actually his death throes.

Now his blood gleamed over the dirty, trash strewn pavement. Its bold color was hurting her eyes, and she almost threw up. Maia's eyes roved over Joseph and she met his sightless gaze. His eyes were still open, boring into her and glassy with horror, and for a split second, Maia thought they would blink. They were a nice blue-grey color and Maia knew she'd never be able to look at the color again. She couldn't tear her stare away; she was trapped in place, unable to flee.

There was another strange noise, a clacking muffled keening. She heard the sound as if from underwater and it took her a fuzzy moment later to realize it was coming from her; it was muffled because it was coming from inside her. Maia's teeth were chattering so hard her mouth hurt and the whimpering was raw, filling with terror. She was frightened by her own sounds of terror.

There was a giggling that wasn't coming from her, but the woman. Reality snapped back to Maia like a rubber band. Everything was in focus now as instinct tried to wrestle back control. The moonlight hit everything, making the human debris glitter like a thousand shattered diamonds. The woman looked at the wasted body of Joseph, mouth twisted into a dry smile.

"Well, there goes that one, now I gotta start from scratch."

Maia shivered at the words as the woman blinked slowly. When a shaft of light flitted onto the woman's face, Maia could see that her eyes were black as tar and no light was reflected off of them, like two pits, except that they really were eyes. The woman stared back at Maia, and she could barely stand. The overwhelming smell of rotten eggs, blood, trash, and something rotten and burning was making her choke. She tried to keep herself standing and tried focus on the freezing air.

The woman made a small gesture and Maia flinched violently. The woman laughed; Maia knew the woman enjoyed her fear, but she couldn't help revealing her vulnerability. Maia's terror and desperation clawed inside her chest, fighting to be released. She couldn't move.

"Go on."

At first Maia thought the woman was speaking to her, but she nodded her head in Maia's direction. The growling resumed, and a sudden crunching noise made Maia look down against her will. Huge indents had appeared on the ground, crushing beer bottles, the broken glass shimmered like diamond dust.

Maia's eyes were wide as they could go, wide enough to pop out of her head. The sounds moved again; she could see the imprints of their movements. Whatever they were, they were huge. Maia could feel their footsteps reverberate through her bones, her very soul. They moved slowly and Maia's terror mounted, the anticipation making her skin crawl. The blood drained from her face, she could feel herself go pale; a wild thought that she was bleeding to death entered her mind. The growling filled her ears, drowning her. She groaned as she watched the pavement shudder and crack beneath invisible feet. The crack became a dent and suddenly, the air rushed forward. The terrible snarling and they launched themselves at Maia.

She screamed, the sound soaring to the moon. The screaming was being forced out of her in one unending shriek. She didn't care what it sounded like; the monsters were almost to her. She could feel their burning breath on her face as her screams were being bounced back into her; she felt the echoes like punches. Something solid rammed into her and her screaming went into hysterical heights. The monsters pressed down on her, their breath so heavy with stench that they had a weight of their own. It smothered her, but Maia still screamed on. She thrashed as she felt the pricking of claws and teeth.

All reason left her. Maia retreated, feeling a part of her lift up and suddenly she could see it all, as if it were happening to someone else. Her that was still on the ground was struggling wildly, as if caught in the jaws of a trap. She was obviously pinned; the force of it was embedding her in the ground. Bruises and cuts were forming. Maia's face was a mask, or something that emotion had pushed to the extremes so that it no longer looked like a face. She felt a twinge of pain at the sight and felt a downward tugging. She shied away from it, and instead focused on the woman who was laughing.

The woman moved closer to Maia, silver knife gleaming as whatever pinned Maia down waited for what the woman's command. Suddenly the door burst open, light spilling out, illuminating the woman who was now crouching over Maia. Maia, whose mouth was still a gaping gash, and her eyes rolling crazily in their sockets, and a face devoid of color.

The woman was furious, cursing as lycanthropes spilled out. Suddenly, Maia was yanked back down and the first thing she felt were hands pressing all around her. Maia felt her senses coming back to her as she fought off the hands, ignoring the crowd's attempts at soothing, and she managed to crawl away from them

Maia choked, trying to get the taste of rotten eggs out of her mouth before she began to violently throw up. Sounds began to rush over her again, as cold air blew against her overheated body. It nearly shattered her, but that fact was oddly comforting. The trash was wonderful to look at, so wonderfully ordinary at the filthy pavement was solid beneath her and was unable to move while she was on top of it. Maia was aware of her heart beating, its thudding an affirmation. That fact made the barrier between her and the world fade away at an acceptable pace. She began to listen to the words the pack was saying.

"Joseph is dead!"

"Completely drained of blood-"

"Vampires!"

"Did anyone see where the bloodsucker went?!"

"Call the Clave!"

"No, call Luke!"

Bat bent down to her line of vision, face taunt with worry and anger.

"Were you bitten?"

Maia shook her head; she probably blew her voice out with all that screaming. She felt strange; Freaky Pete had also bent down, searching her face as another pack member was gently touching her, checking for injury. Maia gingerly stood up and Bat steadied her with large hands. They began to ask her what happened, but Maia had difficulty speaking. She thought it was obvious. Freaky Pete's face was kind as he tried to usher her inside. Maia shook her head and Freaky Pete insisted, till Maia finally croaked out.

"I'll get him."

Nothing could prevent Maia from moving as she suddenly raced out of the alleyway.

SPNTMI

The kitchen was quiet as Luke finally found an unused notebook and some pens. His house wasn't usually so cluttered, but the past few days had been hectic. Clary idly scribbled on a spare sheet of paper as Simon watched.

"Ok, I'll be back later." Luke stated. "Simon, you're welcome to stay the night if you want."

Simon looked up and was about to reply, when a frantic pounding made them all jump. Someone was hammering on the door with enough force to break it down. Luke dropped the notebook onto the table and grabbed a kitchen knife.

"Stay here."

Clary watched him race to the door. She had half a mind to follow him, but as if turned out, she didn't have to. Luke came back a few minutes later, with a familiar girl with him.

"Maia?!" Simon cried.

Maia blanched at the sight of Clary and Simon. Clary thought she looked like she'd seen a ghost.

"I thought you'd be alone." She croaked; she sounded as though she had been shouting.

"Do you want to talk alone?" Luke asked, frowning in worry.

Maia paused, before finally shaking her head. "No…no, it's ok."

Luke led her into a chair; she shakily sat herself into it. Luke gestured for a glass of water, which Clary grabbed and set down in front of Maia. The other girl dimly acknowledged it with a nod. Luke pulled up a chair and sat down in front of Maia, and he slowly held up his hand and when Maia didn't glare, he put it on her shoulder.

"What happened?"

"A boy…the-" Maia struggled to speak. "Joseph is dead."

The air went still; the kitchen buzzed. Clary could see Luke thinking who that was before he realized who that was. Clary and Simon exchanged a look, dread reflecting in each other's' eyes. Clary and Simon stared at Maia. The lycanthrope girl looked uncomfortable with their scrutiny, but she seemed to be gathering herself. She straightened her shoulders and took a breath.

"His body was completely drained of blood." Her breath rattled. "I-I saw it."

Luke's body stood straighter, as if electrified.

"How?"

Maia shuddered, but clarified. "Well, not really. I-I went out. I was at the Hunter's Moon and when I went outside to get some fresh air I saw it. Someone was standing over Joseph, and well…they, they noticed me."

Her last words were a whisper, and then she tried to go into detail, her words tumbling out in a rush, tripping over themselves as they hurried to get out of her.

"When I got there, Joseph was already dead, and-and then they attacked me."

"Attacked you?" Simon asked, horrified.

"They?" prompted Luke.

Maia shuddered. "A woman with black eyes and she had these things with her."

Clary felt her whole body plunge into ice water. She sensed more than saw Simon stiffen. She remembered Jace's pale face and shivered at the memory. If it could rattle Jace, then it probably was a big deal, and she didn't even want to imagine what the things were. Clary turned to Luke, childishly hoping he could fix this. He looked deep in thought.

"Do you think you were attacked, because you interrupted her?" he asked gently.

Maia nodded. "I think so." Her face pinched. "This has happened before hasn't it?"

Luke nodded gravely. "I need to inform the Clave. Maia, you're a witness, they'll have questions for you. Do you think you can hang in there?"

Maia nodded. "Yeah, umm…you might want to let everyone at the Hunter's Moon know "I'm ok." She gave a wry smile. "I pretty much tore outta there."

"Sure. I have to go there anyway." He squeezed Maia's shoulder. "I'll have to go to the Institute to bring the Shadowhunters here. Are you ok waiting with Simon and Clary?"

Maia nodded so vigorously her braids clacked together. "Yeah, yeah I'll be fine."

"Clary, could you call the Institute? That way, they'll be prepared."

Clary nodded and Luke gave the three of them one last smile before striding out and they heard the door shut behind him. The silence buzzed on, with the three of them sitting in the cramped and cluttered kitchen. Clary pulled out her phone, staring at it.

"Want some coffee? I think you'll need it for the Shadowhunters." Simon said to Maia.

"That'd be great." Maia gave Simon a tight smile.

With a sigh, Clary flipped open the phone, her mouth suddenly went dry as her body fizzed with nerves. She scrolled trough her address book, barely reading the numbers; she had to go through the list twice to find what she wanted. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons. Clary could practically feel the splotchy flush on her face.

"Here" Simon handed Maia a mug of coffee.

Maia reached for it, ready to take it. Their fingertips brushed. It was like a static shock. Maia's hand flinched and she jerked back so quickly that she knocked over her chair as she hurried to get out of the way, and sent the mug of hot coffee flying through the air.

Clary gaped as she watched Maia turn pale as a corpse, her eyes wide and now golden. Her ears had become pointed, the fur blending with her hair and when she next spoke her teeth were jagged and lethal. Maia was staring at Simon with a mixture of terror and revulsion.

"Vampire." She spat.

The look on Simon's face was devastating. His shock and hurt made his face tiny with youth. Suddenly Clary was furious at Maia, but before she could respond, Simon's face crumpled with grave resignation.

"Yes I am." He said.

"I thought you were human!" she cried. "When we first met-"

"I still am!" he interrupted.

Simon moved closer, but Maia held up a hand, claws shooting out. They extended far, cutting Simon's cheek. His eyes widened as a thin red line appeared. When his mouth widened, needle sharp incisors were visible. Maia blanched further, making her look sickly. Simon was looking furious and desperate. He spread his arms imploringly. Simon's grimace revealed his teeth. The veins at his temple squirmed beneath the skin, snaking angrily as if trying to burst out of the skin.

Clary thought he did look fearsome, but so did Maia. The lycanthrope was trembling, and Clary couldn't tell if she was trying to prevent herself from further changing or not.

"No you're not!" Maia's voice shook. "You drink blood!"

"Not human." He assured.

"Only because the Shadowhunters will kill you if you do!" she cried. "But that doesn't stop you guys does it?! Joseph was just a kid! What kind of monster does that?!"

"Not a vampire." Clary insisted.

"What else could it be?!" Maia shrieked. "Those bodies were completely drained of blood!"

Simon pleaded. "But, even if that were true, what has that got to do with me?! You can trust me."

"How can I?!" her face twisted in desperation. "When our species are enemies? The demons that our species came from are mortal enemies, and that's why we've never gotten along."

"What?" Simon cried.

"Eventually, you'll hate me. Luke too." Her voice was bitter.

"No." Simon was horrified, voice breathy with pain.

Clary gritted her teeth in fury. How dare this girl make Simon feel this way?! Simon moved forward too far, and Maia snarled. Clary envisioned two angry beasts in a pit and before either could react, Clary moved, pushing herself in between them. Simon pulled back sharply.

"That's enough."

Maia made a noise; her fear was tangible, contagious. She looked like a cornered dog, and Clary could sense Simon's expression of pain behind her.

"The vampires, the things-they'll kill us all!" Maia shouted.

Maia seemed close to hyperventilating, and she tried to speak, but Clary raised her hand and raced it against Maia's cheek. The sound was like a thunderclap inside the tiny kitchen, it rumbled the room. Maia didn't even raise a hand to touch her cheek. Color was coming back into her face, as if summoned by the slap. It gave her a thick flush and Clary just realized how hard she had struck Maia, and she started to speak.

"Get a hold of yourself. You're both downworlders for crying out loud! I know for a fact that those murders weren't the work of vampires!" the firmness in Clary's tone made Maia gasp. "It's about time to put this enemy nonsense behind us. If we don't, we really will all die."

The door burst open, left to bang loudly. They didn't even have time to jump before people streamed into the kitchen. The Shadowhunters had arrived. The Inquisitor was at the head of the group, with Mayrse and Luke hurriedly flanking her. Isabelle and Jace brought up the rear. Clary's eyes automatically zeroed in on Jace. He looked furious and Clary realized what he must be seeing and she flushed with embarrassment. His gold eyes burned with critical scrutiny.

Clary blinked in shock at the look, shying away from it and instead picked out an obvious detail. They had gotten to Luke's faster than she thought; Luke hadn't been gone that long, and she didn't have time to call them. So their speed had startled her.

"What, do guys have jet packs or something?" she quipped, feeling stupid.

The silence that greeted her just heightened her embarrassment. Clary could see Isabelle grimace and her mother Maryse wore a similar expression, although for probably for a different reason. The Inquisitor was eying the kitchen with distaste as if to say, 'this is where you live?'

Clary flushed hard at the dissecting scrutiny. Clary was not only embarrassed for Luke, but also for herself; she lived her now. Never before had Clary been conscious of the mess, or really even cared about it. All the Inquisitor saw was a cramped and dingy apartment of a downworlder, and suddenly Clary hated her. If she even dared to say one word about Luke…

"What do you think you are doing Clarissa?" Jace asked coldly. "Do you have the slightest comprehension of just how dangerous it is to get between two downworlders?"

His voice was a sharpened edged that put Clary on the defensive, but before she could reply Simon spoke.

"Don't talk to her like that!" he snapped.

Jace's gaze became more hostile as it rested on Simon, who fiercely glared back.

"I'll speak to my sister any way I please. This has nothing to do with you vampire, we came for the werewolf."

Clary could see Maia bristle at the tone, and she couldn't blame her. Clary could see Maia's eyes had reverted back to their amber brown and were clear and calm. She was untransformed, and she seemed to be trying not to look embarrassed. She wasn't looking at either Clary or Simon, but directly at Jace.

"Well?" Jace asked Maia.

Maia regarded him with a straight back, and she didn't look bothered by Jace's tone, but Clary was. It bothered her because it matched his expression. The way he was looking at Maia; contemptuous and amused, like whatever was clinging to his shoes was making him laugh. There was something beneath it, a varnish that was peeling away to reveal the original color. It was anger, but not fury, but desperation. Clary wasn't sure, but it gave her a foreboding feeling, which she pushed down to make room for anger.

"Jace." She stated. "Stop insulting my friends."

Jace looked surprised at her tone, but his gaze left her anchored in place; he seemed to nod, with an intense grimace.

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, little sister."

Clary shuddered at Jace's voice. His tone was calm, could be patronizing, but no body language suggested he was calm, in fact, he looked ready for a fight. The contrast was alarming her, and made heat flare throughout her body. She was being observed mercilessly. How did he manage to look so vulnerable and be challenging at the same time? Jace really was a study in contrasts-

Simon made a snorting noise. "Oh for, quit fl-"

He suddenly cut himself off. Clary turned. Simon snapped his mouth shut and she could see he was gritting his teeth. His dark eyes wide, and suddenly she knew what he had stopped himself from saying.

"Quit Flirting."

Clary was just as suddenly aware that the room was full. Full of people that they, knew, their families. She felt a sudden wellspring of shame; the beast inside her slunk back into its hidden cage. Simon had stopped himself from saying what he wanted so badly to say, to get out into the open. Instead he had to let it fester inside. Clary didn't know whether to feel gratitude that he kept his silence for her, or to scream because of the anger in his voice.

Clary saw Jace's eyes burst; all traces of vulnerability were gone and replaced with a hard cool mask. He was staring at her and she repressed a shudder. She had to get a hold of herself.

"Enough chest thumping." She hated how unsteady her voice sounded.

"Yes please." Isabelle muttered.

Before Clary could shoot her a grateful look, Maryse exchanged a look with the Inquisitor before speaking.

"Lucien has informed us of what has happened." Maryse began.

"Tell us what you know, downworlder." The Inquisitor demanded.

Clary turned in worry to regard Maia. His many people crowding her must have been stressful and Clary wondered if she could squeeze Maia's shoulder just moments after slapping her. Luke hastily pulled up chairs for everyone. Every teen except Jace sat down. He stood far from Clary and he was standing across the Inquisitor, who also refused to sit down with one eyebrow raised in disgust. Maryse herself looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but Luke's.

Clary wondered if Maia would need prompting, but she didn't and when she spoke her voice was firm. Maia seemed to have her tough girl persona back on as she recalled the previous hours. Maryse was the one who was recording the conversation, and when she looked to the Inquisitor, the older woman gave her a brisk nod. Jace spoke next, pushing a sheet of paper and handing a pencil to Maia.

"How old are you?" he asked.

Maia looked incredulous. She gave him a half angry, half swaggering reply.

"Pervert. I don't date dicks."

Maryse's lips thinned and Simon suppressed a snigger. Jace gave Maia a withering look.

"Don't flatter yourself. Valentine is targeting minors."

"Fine. Fifteen. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. I'll be sure to make a pass at you later."

Maia wrote the information and handed the sheet back. The Shadowhunters stood up, and Maia didn't bother to look at them. Simon back up to make room for them as they made their way out of the kitchen. Luke smiled encouragingly at Maia.

"There is a guest bedroom if you want to crash here."

Maia blinked, "Hmm? Oh, um ok, I guess. Thanks." She mumbled.

Luke nodded and then began to speak to Maryse in low tones. Clary stood up.

"I'll get it set up for you." She told Maia.

Maia gave a mumble of acknowledgement. As Clary brushed past the group, she caught a snatch of Luke's conversation with Maryse

"Thank you for agreeing to do this."

"It's alright." She said tightly. "Better than doing nothing I suppose."

"Hmmph." The Inquisitor interrupted.

Clary hurried up the stairs, steps muted by carpet. She went to the linen closet, hands roaming the shelves. Clary could see the old comforter tucked away in a corner. She had to tug hard to get it out and she let it fill her hands; the softness made her want to hug it to herself. Grabbing the rest of the bedding, she turned around and was face to face with Jace. She hadn't heard him at all, and they were inches apart.

Clary gasped and dropped her armful. Jace bent down and picked them up. Clary reached out her arms for them, but he didn't return them to her.

"You've been avoiding me." He stated.

Clary gaped at that, indignant and confusion battling inside her. "Only because I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you."

Profound relief flooded Clary, but it froze as Jace continued, laughing without humor.

"I should. I want to." His voice became speculative. "Who knows? Maybe someday I will."

Clary gave a bitter laugh; she was brutally reminded of the way Simon looked at her in the Faerie Court. She hated their stares, the way she could never please anyone anymore.

"You think this is easy for me?" she snapped.

Jace gave her a hard, black and white stare. "Isn't it? After all, you love Simon."

Clary was insulted. "Of course I do! I love him just as much-" she felt like she swallowed something sharp. "I'm trying my best!"

Now it was Jace's turn to be insulted. "So am I."

Clary didn't want to think about how hard it was for Jace, only that she hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a week.

"It's different! You don't have to choose, you have a family."

The dark circles underneath Jace's eyes stood like bruise against his skin. His face gave a sudden wrench of agony; he couldn't keep his mask up. Clary wondered if it had anything to do with her, and if it did what could she do about it?

Jace's voice was taunt. "No I don't."

"The Lightwoods-" Clary started to say.

"Don't give a damn about me." He swallowed quickly. "Apparently, neither do you!" he sounding like he was choking on something.

"I do." Clary was filled with wild desperation, it was overtaking her. "Too much! You're family, I should love you like family-like I do Simon, who by the way, deserves more! He deserves to be happy; I should love him like I do you!" she struggled to get her breathing under control.

Whatever Jace had braced himself to hear, this wasn't it. There was a new anguish in his face as he looked into Clary's eyes.

"Clary-"

The stairs creaked. Clary turned to see Simon had come up. He looked confused at first; he had probably come up to see what was taking her so long. Simon took one look at the scene and his expression hardened. Clary wondered what his vampire eyes could see. She could only imagine. As she dangled off the edge of a cliff waiting for his response, Jace shoved the blankets into her hands with viscous force.

"Oh." Simon softly said.

Jace suddenly moved, pushing past Simon and went down the stairs. Simon met Clary's eyes and she wasn't sure what he was seeing, or what he was thinking. Suddenly she wanted him; the old Simon who gave her easy smiles and let her borrow his CD's till eternity.

Simon wordlessly left, following the path Jace took. The rejection was too much; alone in the hall, Clary let the blankets drop to the floor. The only thing she wanted to do was pull her hair and scream and wail, with a good dose of rocking back and forth, or just collapsing into a heap. She felt the sadness as a ship feels an anchor, but if she just sunk to the ground, she'd never get up. So she did the next best thing. She cursed.

"Goddamn it!"

She whispered in a vicious frustration that didn't feel strong enough for her and she raced downstairs. She ignored the kitchen full of people as she yanked open the back door; she heard it slam behind as she followed Simon, who was striding across Luke's backyard.

"Wait-please wait!' she cried.

Simon didn't turn around. "You're busy, and it's late."

"Bull!" Clary shouted.

Simon turned around, sad and frustrated, "Clary-"

"I know! It's wrong and messed up, but I'm trying."

Simon held up his hands. "I know. I know you are. It's just how you feel; it's not your fault."

Clary knew he meant it. "Just give me time." She begged.

"Finally! Honesty!"

Clary held back tears. "I know. I'm sorry. This shouldn't be happening to you. I should love you like I do him." The pain was making her gasp.

"I don't want you to think you have to love me. That just makes it worse."

Clary held back on her keening whimper. He was right; being the next best thing was awful, even worse was that she was forcing both of them to go through this, to love him in such a way, like there was something wrong with him. Shame and guilt for making Simon feel that way, however inadvertently made her want to tug her hair.

"I want to love you like that. I can." She meant it. She really meant it.

Simon's tone was wistful. "Somehow, I don't think you ever will."

Clary was suddenly angry. "Why not?"

"Have you ever felt like you couldn't trust the person you love?" he asked.

Thrown off guard, Clary thought before answering. "…I think so."

"Then you know how horrible that is to do to someone." He said.

Clary nodded vigorously, tears at last coming to her eyes. If only she could choose her blood. It made shame so deep and complete that all she wanted to do was hide, but that didn't stop the beast inside from making its cries, pleading its case. She didn't know how to make these feelings go away, to turn into something more acceptable, normal. She cut off a wail.

"Yes. You're so good. You don't hurt the people around you."

Simon looked too unsurprised to be alarmed, but the empathy was clear on his face.

"This isn't your fault; this is just something that happened."

Clary sobbed. "I wish…"

Simon looked close to tears himself. "I know. Me too."

He strode forward and hugged her. With Simon's arms wrapped around her, Clary felt like she could almost pretend. She pressed her cheek against his chest. Clary would never hear his heart beat again. She whimpered; their lives had been altered beyond recognition, but there was nothing more to say. They both knew it wouldn't get any better, no matter how much they tried not to hurt each other. Clary suddenly knew she could never pretend again.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Simon's breath blew her hair like a kiss. Clary trembled with a longing she couldn't identify and the Simon pulled back, and strode out of sight. His words left a ghostly imprint on her skin, like he really was dead and never was. With a heavy heart she went back inside. She saw Jace fiddling with a piece of something sharp and glinting in his hand, but when he caught her looking at it, he tucked into his pocket. The Shadowhunters finally looked like they were getting ready to leave. Clary heard the Inquisitor say.

"Are we through wasting time with this?"

Clary heard a murmured reply, but then Maryse distinctly spoke.

"Yes I believe we are." She sounded as if she were gritting her teeth.

"Fine." The Inquisitor roughly grabbed Jace by the arm. "Come along boy."

Clary's line of vision was suddenly blocked by Maia. The girl looked anxious.

"Um…where's Simon?"

Clary blinked. "Why?" she was surprised at the chill in her tone.

"Well…because I wanted to say I'm sorry. I really freaked out. "Maia laughed nervously.

"Yeah you did." Clary continued. "What was all that fighting species stuff?"

Maia flushed and Clary was meanly pleased to see Maia's self-mortification.

"Well, I guess I could overlook it. Please. I just want to tell him I'm sorry."

"He left." Maia's face crumpled. "He went home."

Maia was thoughtful for a moment, before her expression cleared with an idea.

"Well, I can track his scent so…" she hesitated. " Do you think he'll forgive me?"

Clary looked at Maia for a moment and softened.

"He is the forgiving type."

Maia's relief was obvious. "Can you tell Luke I said thank you?"

Clary gave a brief nod, and Maia looked at her for a few moments.

"Thanks. For everything."

Clary nodded again as Maia opened the door and raced into the night. Clary felt a stab of bitter jealousy. She wanted to be the one to chase after Simon, but after tonight, she wasn't sure she had any right to. When did her life stop being real? It was some strange fantasy that she had been dropped into, and felt like taking over a stranger's life. A stranger who could not stop herself from causing others pain, and was only able to be buffeted about by the current. Clary didn't think she ever figure out how to stop being powerless.

"Where'd Maia go?" asked Luke.

"Hmm?" Clary replied absently. "Oh, she changed her mind. She said thanks though."

"I see." Luke's face was a knot of worry.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine."

Luke went over to her; not that it was just the two of them, it was eerily quiet. Luke put his arm around her and Clary tried to draw comfort from it.

"It'll get better tomorrow." He said.

Clary nodded, hoping it was true, because right now she never felt more alone.

SPNTMI

Maia followed Simon's scent as it led her to central park. She was gaining on him; one thing lycanthropes and vampires had in common was incredible speed. She wondered just where it was that Simon had lived, and she hoped that she'd catch up to him in time. Then, she could see him, striding on a concrete path up ahead. Maia shouted, waving her arms He turned, looking startled by her sudden appearance. She couldn't blame him. Maia skidded to a halt at his feet.

"I'm sorry." She said without preamble.

"Sorry?"

She couldn't tell if he didn't understand or was angry with her. She fidgeted.

"You know. For my freaking out earlier."

"Oh."

"So…yeah." Maia had no idea what was going to happen next

"What about all that ancient species stuff?" he asked. "I thought we could never be friends."

Maia flinched. "Well…I don't know if that's true, but Clary said you were a pretty great guy. So if that doesn't happen between us, I'd be really happy."

Simon blinked in surprise.

"I mean," Maia continued. "You still like Luke right?"

"Of course."

Maia's hesitation vanished and her grin was almost childlike with delight. Simon's expression cleared like mist on the begging of a summer day. The two smiled at each other.

"Awwww." A voice crooned.

Both jumped and a sharp breeze blew past, scattering leaves around the person who interrupted them. It was a slight, dark haired woman. Something about her seemed off.

"Well look-y here. A were and a vamp getting along, almost sittin' in a tree."

Her sing song tone set Simon's teeth on edge. She wasn't a mundane, and definitely not a Shadowhunter. The wind blew again and this time a faint growling was carried on the wind. Maia's face went through a series of emotion before settling on horrified recognition. She seemed unable to move; Simon put himself in front of her. The woman seemed more amused by the reaction than anything else. She put on slim finger to her lips in mock thought.

"You know, it's a good thing those Shadowhunters don't give a crap about you downworlders, makes my job easier."

"You-" Maia pointed a shaking finger at the woman. Her had difficulty speaking. "You-you killed Joseph!"

Simon gaped in shock, feeling his fangs descend. The woman was interrupted from her reverie. She gave a breathy laugh.

"He was a screamer."

The growling grew louder, leaves crunching nothing. Maia shrieked, backing into a tree. Simon pressed himself in front of her, lips pulled back. He flinched when the sounds got closer.

"Well." She drew out the word. "I really wish boss man didn't want to do it this way, but if want something done right…"

The woman smiled.

SPNTMI

"So this'll really work?"

"Stealth is prized among the Children of the Night."

Jace snorted.

"Does this mean I am out of your debt?"

"Hardly."

"Well, I had thought that falling out of favor with the Clave would teach you a little humility."

"Pretty sharp ears."

"Of course."

"Later, Raphael."

Jace straddled the bike, and the motorcycle roared to life beneath him. Jace hit the throttle and he soared above the parking lot. Jace sped forward toward the east river. At the speed he was going, it didn't take him that long to get there. Jace's eyes scanned the harbor, intent on finding his target.

The ships reminded him of Idris in a way. Of when he went out on the water, and saw the graceful boats of the Nephilim dotting the lakes and rivers of his home. Try as he might, Jace could never quite take to New York City, not when he knew of Idris. The sharp wind of the river banished these thoughts. The prow of a ship was jutting out of the water. Jace stared. It was a black ship, too large to be a yacht or any other pleasure boat, but to slender to be a warship. Its odd size made it stand out, but Jace instantly knew it was glamoured to be hidden from mundane sight.

It was exactly what he was looking for. Jace flew higher, looking for a clear spot to land. He looked down and with a shock saw him. Valentine and he was staring up at him, straight through him. Jace had to clamp down on his emotions. He descended easily, the bike going silent as soon as Jace touched down. Jace looked at Valentine.

"You don't seem surprised to see me."

"I am. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return to me."

Jace grimaced. "You sound so sure of yourself. I have questions."

"As do I. For example, how did you find me?" Valentine sounded politely curious.

"Magnus Bane has been trying to track you. I remembered that you always loved to sail. I could have told them that and it would have all been over."

"So you've come to protect me?"

Jace swallowed. "I told you I have questions."

Valentine inclined his head. "Naturally. Ask away."

"When you stole the sword that night, you wanted me to come back with you, but that night at Renwick's, you left." Jace struggled to keep his voice steady. "Why?"

Valentine stared hard and Jace felt nostalgia at the scrutiny. His father looked genuinely regretful.

"That is something I should apologize for. When we were reunited that day, I had gotten ahead of myself, thinking my child would still be the same person he was all those years ago." Valentine shook his head ruefully. "But, in my absence you have grown into an admirable man. My biggest regret is that I was not there to see it."

'You could have.' Jace thought, but he didn't dare say it out loud.

Valentine was continuing.

"And now you are persecuted by the Clave for the simple crime of being my son. The cowards do not have the capacity to challenge me, so they go for you instead."

"What did you expect?" Jace asked, surprised by the bitterness in his tone.

Valentine nodded his head, as if the two were now of the same mind.

"Now you finally understand their true colors. Why I go against them. They are corrupt, mingling with degenerates, and they restrict those who have the greatest potential. The Clave needs to be changed, so I will change it." His voice was finite.

Jace remembered similar tirades; they were as familiar as his study books. He felt an odd mixture of foreboding and bruised affection. He shook his head to clear it.

"Surely you have noticed it? Demons run rampant while the Clave preoccupies itself with making alliances with the half breed downworlders, who will cause further decay to the Clave while its members do nothing to stop it. They are so busy trying to ensure a half-baked peace with dangerous animals, so that soon will be overrun with demons. There are not enough Shadowhunters in the world to carry on our duty. That must be changed at all costs."

"So you will be the one to change it." Jace made it a statement. "How, by force?"

Valentine was unperturbed. "If I have to, but I certainly do not want to Jonathan."

Jace thought of the Lightwoods'. They were a part of the Clave as any other. He suddenly felt sick.

"The Lightwoods'." He breathed.

"Are the ones who are a cause of most of your misfortune. Maryse threw you out-oh yes, I heard about that. The Inquisitor- Imogen, put you into the Silent City's prison. I imagine Maryse did nothing to stop it. Tell me, the way they treat you, is that the way a family acts?"

Jace had difficulty clearing his thoughts. He wasn't sure how families were supposed to act, period. He cleared his throat, willing the subject to change.

"But why?" he then clarified. "I mean, why you? Why do you have to be the one to change things?"

"Because only I can see this problem for what it is. Because someone has to."

"Even if you have to break the law?" Jace wasn't that surprised to hear that this was Valentine's opinion. "But isn't breaking the law to change the law cheating?" he felt childish for putting it that way.

Valentine however, seemed to know what he was talking about. He began to walk forward and Jace followed him.

"What is right? Is it wrong to act against authority?" Valentine mused. "We could debate this matter for days, but the truth is deceptively simple."

"But if you think you know better than the law, then what makes you no better than the law?"

Valentine gave a booming laugh that made Jace homesick.

"Excellent wordplay and just the right response to temper my pride. This is exactly why I need you Jonathan."

Jace felt the confusion of just what it was that he was needed for. It battled with the desire to be wanted.

"You know what they think right?" he hazarded.

Valentine shrugged, the gesture looking effortless.

"To them I am a monster, but that doesn't matter. It takes a true patriot to have the courage to rebel. This is for their own good, and if I have to use my supposed monstrosity to do so then I will." He stated simply.

Jace shuddered; his father was as charismatic as ever. Valentine seemed to realize the struggle raging inside Jace.

"I am in the right Jonathan. For whatever that is worth, I am in the right."

Valentine led Jace to the end of the ship.

"I will explain."

They stopped walking. Jace felt against his will, that he was waiting with bated breath. Valentine reached and gripped the hilt of a blade. It was the Soul-Sword. Jace could recognize it with ease and it was released from the scabbard with an impressive ringing. Jace stared at the blade in shock. It was dark, but somehow bright, as if absorbing the light of its surroundings. It emanated a powerful aura.

"You recall Milton?" at Jace's nod, he continued. "Well, in some respects he was correct. His portrayal of Lucifer was surprisingly accurate."

At these words, Jace felt dread. He was unable to tune the words out.

"Lucifer was one of the most beloved of all the angels, and he loved God so much so that when he was told that he must bow to man, he could not bring himself to do so. That was the nature of his fall."

"But he still fell. He was still cast into Hell." Jace was aghast at the surreal turn of their conversation.

"He is no longer. Lucifer walks the earth. An angel visited me, willing to ally with myself."

Jace shuddered; he had an idea which one it was. He wanted to press his hands over his ears.

"He has told me many things. About Raziel and the nature of demons-both of them. Before Lucifer fell it was this sword that defended Heaven against the demons and spilled their heinous blood. Like Raziel, he wanted to continue to fight them instead of bowing to man, but he was punished for loving God too much to listen to his command."

Jace was shocked that Valentine would make similarities to Lucifer and Raziel. He wasn't sure how much truth there was to what Valentine was saying, and that uncertainty was agony to Jace.

"The fact that this sword is in Nephilim possession means that we are the chosen ones. We are the only ones that can protect this world, as is our birthright."

Valentine held out the sword for Jace to take. Jace looked into Valentine's dark eyes and when his father nodded, Jace took the blade the way his father showed him how. As soon as Jace's hands wrapped around the handle he gasped. Cold shot up his arm, settling into his bones as his fingers became pale. He doubled over; it wasn't heavy per se, but it was dragging him downward, with a pull almost as though two magnets were meeting. He also had a strange but distinct feeling that it did not want to be held by him. Jace shivered, wanting to let go, but then his attention had being taken away to what had suddenly appeared before them. What he was seeing filled him with horror. There were demons, as if called forth.

Demons in all manner of monstrosity, too horrible to describe, full of poison and in shapes he had never seen before. Jace shuddered at their numbers. They were coming from all directions, from the water bubbling up; the only thing keeping them apart from the two worlds was a barrier. Jace could see it out of the corner of his eye, the thin sheet that separated the two, created distinct edges of the world. Jace looked up; the sky formed fissures, cracks that had all kinds of appendages poking through.

He could see past them, to the grid of which the universe was formed, what separated the planes by curve and light. It burned his eyes, and overcame him. He gasped as Valentine's hands gently pried the sword out of his grip. At once the light and demons vanished. Jace swayed as Valentine strapped the sword back into its confines. Jace resisted the urge to vomit.

"So that's it-that's what you're doing."

"My army, yes."

"No." Jace breathed.

"Yes." Valentine was firm.

"But the Clave, they will fight." Alec and Isabelle's faces flashed in his mind.

Valentine shook his head. "They are too cowardly for that, and they will surrender once they see the power I have assembled."

"But demons, I thought you hated them."

"I do. They are simply a means to an end. When the task is complete, I will give the order to annihilate themselves, since the sword's wielder has that kind of power."

Jace was shaking uncontrollably. One of the few remaining pieces clicked into place and he almost wished he never found out. He turned to Valentine; he knew he must look awful.

"I could tell. I could get right off this ship and tell the Inquisitor everything you just told me. I've got enough information to stop you."

Valentine's look of utter confidence quieted Jace.

"I trust you."

His simple answer floored Jace like nothing else could. Something frantic had broken in his chest. He wanted to collapse with gratitude, and hated himself for it. He quickly and mentally shook himself; he needed a better grip on the emotions that were helplessly tumbling out of him. He could understand how he could feel despair and relief at the same time. He took a shuddering breath and took a sinful plunge, feeling painful jolts of electricity course through him.

"If- if I do this, you need to guarantee their safety."

Valentine didn't need to ask for who Jace was talking about.

"Of course."

"Every last one." He insisted.

"I would only do this for you."

Jace suppressed a bitter laugh.

'Small favors.' He thought. 'Lucky me that Dad will spare their lives.'

Valentine was giving his son a measured but deep look.

"I know you care for them, even though they don't care for you. It means you have compassion. It makes me proud to call you my son. Never forget that you are not a Lightwood, but a Morgenstern. It is our destiny to hurt those we love. That just means we can do the impossible. So why not put all your talents to use?"

Jace bowed his head, feeling the weight of the truth. When Jace finally looked up, he could see a vast multitude if stars. It was a beautiful night and he could feel the city's air in his lungs, so different from Idris, pumping in his heart. It was a good night to be alive, feeling the despair.

"This reminds me of when you showed me how to sail."

Jace wasn't sure why he said it.

"Ah yes, we'll have to do that again."

From anyone else it would have been normal. Jace suddenly wanted to cry.

"Yes." He felt the need to say it again. "Yes, I'll do it."

He looked back at Valentine. His father gave him a look of utter delight. Jace didn't have to search long to know that it was genuine. He knew all of his father's expressions and this was one of his best. It made him look younger, and somehow fiercer. For some reason, seeing Valentine this happy made Jace's heart break, like that portal mirror, and the shard was still in his pocket.

"Then come. There is something That I'll need your assistance with."

Valentine strode to a door by the side of the deck, with its entrance leading down below. Valentine pulled out his stele and opened the door with a rune. As they walked down the stairs, the air became colder, until their breath was visible. Jace looked around; the industrial interior was very different from his father's usual preferences. Catwalks and ladders competed for space in the stark underbelly of the ship. It was larger inside than what Jace would have thought; they passed rooms filled with machinery. Jace couldn't tell if they were still in use, but he didn't really care.

He felt as though had just misplaced, or rather given, away something important, something that he could never, no matter how hard he tried would never get back again.

'Was it worth it?'

Jace pushed out his thoughts as Valentine finally stopped in front of a large metal entryway.

"Ah, here we are." Valentine said.

He showed Jace inside the room, and began speaking again. Jace wasn't listening. Everything slowed to a crawl, sounds pushed out as he stared in horror and hoped his eyes were deceiving him.

SPNTMI

TBC…