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.

5. Just before dawn

Disclaimer: I do not own either MI or SPN.

Warnings: Buckets of Violence.

AN: All action, all the time. Crank the AC/DC!

Word count: 27,135

SPNTMI

Chapter 5: Just before Dawn.

Jace stared. His father's voice was surrounding him, soaking into his bones.

"After the previous interruption, I had them brought here."

Jace's head was spinning. "Interruption?"

"Yes. I wanted to prevent another one. I thought it would be more prudent to bring them here to finish the Conversion Ritual without any problems."

Jace swallowed hard, sweat breaking out. His heart was clamoring to be released as every part of him screamed not to go any further. What he was staring at was staring right back at him. Simon and Maia. The two were shackled to the floor, thick metal wrapping around their wrists and ankles. Simon was glaring at Jace with a fierce loathing. Maia was glancing between all of the men, looking frightened and confused. She seemed unable to believe that this was happening; Jace had a hard time believing it himself.

Jace felt a fear that only rivaled his memories of being in the Silent City. With Simon glaring at him, he was instantly reminded of Clary and how her heart would break at the sight of Simon chained like an animal. Jace felt a hot, painful wave after wave of self-loathing. He welcomed Simon's hate, it was much deserved. Jace knew he'd never forget the expression Simon was giving him, or Maia's wavering look of wariness. It was only an hour or so that he had last seen her, and she still managed to get caught. Jace couldn't appreciate the irony. Maia was trying to desperately hide her fear, but it didn't escape Jace; he could smell it on her, and she was his victim. Jace never felt so sick in his entire life. He wanted to die.

Jace felt the crashing reality, as though something heavy in his soul had snapped in half and thundered downwards, the sound painfully filled his ears as all he was told rained down, destroyed and all his own doing. He had betrayed his own rules, the rules of the Clave. He deserved their punishment. Jace swallowed, his throat didn't seem to be working properly because of the large chunks of regret that were lodged firmly inside.

Jace knew exactly what was going to happen to Maia, to Simon. Their deaths would devastate Clary. She tried so hard to keep Simon safe, and he was always in her thoughts. Instantly, Jace could picture her expression of grief when she realized that Simon was dead, would be dead. By Jace's own hand no less and he might as well have stabbed him right then and there. Or better yet, not have let him rise from that shallow grave in a Jewish cemetery.

He remembered that night so vividly, how Clary looked at him as though he were a monster and how she covered Simon's body with her own. She struggled so desperately, and her grief had frightened Jace in that special way that only Clary was capable of doing. Jace knew she couldn't do that again, no matter how willing she'd be to do it. It would crush her, and she'd never be able to go on, Jace knew that much. Simon was an irreplaceable part of her life, and he, Jace was about to take it away. She told him that she did love him, but Jace was certain that if he did this, she would most definitely hate him.

His mind felt clear, sharp, and painful. As though a haze had been removed from it; it took all of Jace's willpower not to collapse to the floor. He knew he had to say goodbye to all his pleasant memories, and even though he knew it was a useless hope, he still felt it flutter angrily in his chest. He turned to Valentine, feeling so small.

"What is it Jonathan?"

"How did you find these two?"

"I had ordered for a werewolf and a vampire to be brought to me. A demon calling itself Meg had stumbled upon them, and brought them to me."

"She has been the one who's been responsible for the murders?"

"Yes."

Jace shuddered. "Well, maybe there is another way. Someone else."

Jace felt sick and disgusted with himself for suggesting it. To just let someone else die, even if it wasn't these particular downworlders, was just plain unthinkable. He tried to plead with Valentine, who was looking into his face carefully, and Jace felt a thrill of fear go through him. He wondered if Valentine could guess his thoughts, but Valentine's face cleared and Jace felt another childish hope that his father would understand that these two had to be spared.

"Ah, that's right. As I recall, the vampire is some sort of pet to Clarissa."

Jace wanted to point out that to her, Simon was family, but that seemed like giving his father a weapon he shouldn't be allowed to have. Valentine frowned disapprovingly.

"She shouldn't keep such company with such monstrosities. It's undignified for a Shadowhunter girl. Who knows what that could lead to?"

Jace shivered, not at the words, but the way Valentine had said them and just what that meant. Simon would not be spared just because Jace knew him.

"You're the monstrosity, you piece of shit, how about you-" Maia shouted, straining against the metal that held her in place.

She was half transformed, lunging at Valentine with her thick canines snapping at him. Valentine looked down at her with a kind of clinical distaste. He took his eyes off her, uncaring that an angry werewolf was trying to claw out his throat. Taking a small pouch off of one of his enormous belts, he untied the draw string and poured out some of the contents onto his open palm. It was powder, shimmering like snow, but it was silver rather than white. Jace knew what it was at once, but before he could move, Valentine acted.

Valentine bent down at Maia's level, undisturbed by the close proximity of her claws. He blew the power right into her face. It quickly settled onto her skin and she screamed. Valentine stood up brushing his hands together as if he had only been holding dirt and he didn't even bother to look at Maia as she howled and writhed below him. Her cries of pain assaulted Jace's ears, and he restrained the urge to bent down and unchain her. Simon quickly shouted, terrified for Maia, whose eyes were shut tight as she tried to get the silver power off of her. She was coughing violently, accidently inhaling some of the deadly stuff.

Simon was looking at the two of them with such a vicious glare and Jace nearly backed away, but Valentine did not. Simon stood up as far as his manacles would allow and put himself in front of Maia, one hand on her shoulder.

"Bastard." He spat. "She's just a girl for-"

He choked and Valentine laughed. He knew what Simon had meant to say, and to hear it from a vampire must have insulted him.

"You were about to say God, weren't you?"

Simon just bared his teeth, fury and humiliation plain on his face; for his religion to be used against him was probably the greatest insult Valentine could have ever given him, and something that wouldn't be forgiven. In one fluid motion, Valentine unsheathed Maellartach and with one slim slice, brought the tip of the blade to Simon's cheek.

"Careful revenant, this is a holy weapon that burns unclean creatures such as yourself. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"That I'm glad Clary never got to know you."

Valentine frowned, as if hearing the name from a vampire was offensive. He pressed the blade harder to Simon's throat. Simon hissed in pain, and a if sensing it, Maia opened her eyes in time to see Simon hiss in pain as the blood began to well where the sword was pressing into Simon's neck.

"Leave him alone!" she shouted.

"Father."

Jace moved without thought and reflexively grabbed Valentine's sword arm. Valentine was surprised at the strength of Jace's grip, and when Jace looked into his father's eyes had had seen fury for just a brief moment, before Valentine looked at him with a sympathetic scrutiny. Except Jace knew now that it was a lie; his father was putting on a mask as he tried to study him under a microscope. It filled Jace with anger and a sick kind of fear to be scrutinized so clinically, and like he was a fascinating experiment.

"I see. You care for him, don't tell me this creature has found a place in your heart? No…at the very least, you only care for him because Clarissa cares for him and his death would cause her pain. Again your compassion is admirable."

Jace did not like the way his father spoke, or the way he was looking at him either. It was as though he had just finished puzzling something out, and was surprised at the result. It couldn't be good if said result made him smile in that peculiar way. Jace couldn't figure it out and that filled him with a twisted foreboding.

"However this is not the time for compassion. I cannot spare him or the werewolf. There simply isn't time or room for mistakes." Valentine looked struck by a sudden idea. "Since it will take some time between the two, I can give you a few minutes with one of them, while I take the other."

Jace gaped at him, unable to prevent the noise of shock that vibrated in his body. Valentine was serious, and would not be swayed, not even if he went down on his hands and knees and begged. He was filled with pain; his own father would not stop for anyone or anything, not even his own son. Sure, he wanted Jace with him, but he'd be willing to do whatever it took to get the job done. One look in his father's eyes and he knew this was his father's mission from God.

"Choose."

As if he sensed what Jace had thought, Valentine put a hand his shoulder.

"Temper your compassion Jonathan. This is necessary for our kind to prevail. As the Angel has chosen us, their war has become ours."

Jace felt all hope plummet, chills crashing down his body, as he felt the stain on his soul spread. His eyelids fluttered as if anchored by heavy weights. Jace thought his ribcage was cracking from the strain of disappointment. He felt hurt like this before, like his entire body switched between hot and cold as bitter abandonment tangled itself against his own self-loathing. He wasn't surprised that Valentine was doing this. Deep down, he wasn't surprised at all and that alone intensified the hurt. His own father would never back down and maybe even enjoyed the predicament. Jace knew right then and there that his father would never be what he wanted or needed him to be.

He had made a grave mistake. It would stay with him for the rest of his life. Valentine was forcing him to choose. Jace felt his father's eyes boring into him as he stared at Simon and Maia. Valentine thought he was doing Jace a kindness by letting him choose which one to die first. Jace stared hard; sweat was coating his skin that felt tight and uncomfortable. He swallowed reflexively, struggling to push down the bile that was flooding his throat. Jace had never done this before. Downworlder gone rogue were just as bad as demons, and he'd kill in the heat of battle, but this…

Jace's vision began to spot, blurring the two that were kneeling on the sterile metal of the ship's floor. His head was pounding, stabbing his eyes and nose, making them water. He had to stifle a gasp, his mind whirring; he couldn't show Valentine what he was thinking. The plan began to take distinct shape, swallowing the thickness that he couldn't define. The guilt corroded him, and he felt his face tighten; he didn't know how he looked, but when he bored his gaze into the two of them. Maia shrank away and Jace couldn't blame her. When Simon looked at Jace, he felt fear. Jace buried it deep at his own expense, hoping to God that his mask was good enough for Valentine.

Jace gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight. He trembled inside, wanting nothing more than to cover his eyes and ears. Jace struggled to wrench away what little comfort he could still fool himself into giving himself; he didn't deserve it. He was going to hell. Deservedly so; Jace spared Valentine only a glance, jerking his head in the direction of Maia.

"Her. Take the werewolf."

Jace willed himself to stare at the scene.

'Avert not thine eyes.'

A voice stated in his mind. It sounded like Clary. He had to watch every moment of this, it would be cowardly to look away, and they didn't deserve that. His eyes painted the scene before, forever etched into his memory to haunt him forevermore. Simon was staring at him with incredulous betrayal; Jace vaguely noted that Simon hadn't actually thought Jace was going to go through with it.

'Guess I'm full of surprises.'

Jace knew he found a new, truer part of his nature; he got to figure more about himself than he ever wanted to.

'Like father, like son.'

He sensed his mouth form the look of bitter elation. At last he could no longer lie to himself, but Simon misinterpreted Jace's expression. For once, Simon actually looked like a vampire. Simon's look of shock and hatred defied description; he was vibrating with emotion, manacles clacking like ominous clapping, as if approving of Simon's righteous fury. He bared his teeth, the fangs gleaming brightly against the stark metal. His accusation filled eyes was louder than a shout and he tore his gaze away from Jace with the utmost disgust. If Jace didn't know any better, he was more than disappointed, he was actually hurt.

"You son of a bitch!" he spat.

Valentine frowned, moving forward and Simon shoved himself between Valentine and Maia, face contorted with protective snarling. Disgust rippled on Valentine's face. For a split second, they both looked so monstrous, Jace couldn't tell who was who anymore. Valentine held the sword tight, thrusting it in between Simon and Maia, like an obscene barrier. Simon eyed it warily. Simon turned to look at Maia, and they stared at one another; Jace felt as if he was intruding. Maia's face was pale, and she was trembling all over. Her eyes were wide and filling up quickly. She was stripped of all dignity.

Jace winced; she wasn't getting to keep that, Valentine wouldn't let her. Maia's breath was coming out in gasps, chest heaving. Her top was straining, skin gleaming feverishly. Her heart was pumping in lusty fear; it knew what was about to happen; her lips quivered as if her heart was going to spill out of them. She was beautiful. She was still beautiful even with the stench of terror, and as Valentine moved closer to unlock her chains, she thrashed away from him, trying to avoid the brush of Valentine's fingers. She grabbed for Simon, gripping his hand tight. He didn't let go, trying to cover her. Valentine moved towards her; Jace was horribly reminded of the faerie tales of babies being taken from their cradles, and he shuddered in revulsion. Valentine's cool expression was frightening and it penetrated Maia's terror stricken face, her open mouth. His large hand was expansive and horribly pale against Maia's curving, writhing body.

"No!" she screamed.

Eyes wide and unfocused, a keening was escaping her teeth; completely devoid of self-control, like an animal in a cage. This was what she was. Her face was a slash of pure, abject terror. She shrieked the word 'no' over and over like a prayer. Simon moved forward, but with an impassive face, Valentine pressed the sword against Simon. It was big enough to cover his neck and a part of his face. The sword hissed as it burned Simon's flesh and blood bubbled beneath the surface of violated skin.

"Simon!" Maia howled.

"Unclean creature. This blade scorches you as surely as the word of God."

Maia's burns ached with empathy. Maia was being hauled to her feet; Maia and Simon were still holding hands, as if glued together and nothing in the universe had the strength to pull them apart. The chains that held Simon strained loudly, their accusation echoing in the tiny room. Valentine pressed the blade harder to Simon, who screamed loudly as steam began to rise from him.

"Leave him alone!" Maia wailed. "Please, please don't do this!"

She continued to beg; struggling more intensely, beginning to curse at them. Simon pulled against his restraints, finally twisting away from the sword; he shouted Maia's name and she was sobbing out his. Valentine finally wrenched her away and she shrieked loud enough to damage hearing. Simon leapt up with a snarl, and Valentine lifted one foot and kicked Simon with enough force to send him flying. As Simon glided through the air, the chains yanked him back with enough force to yank his bones out of his sockets. He hit the metal hard enough for him to vibrate, rivets shaking on impact.

Maia thrashed in Valentine's arms. He could have knocked her out, but he didn't and her pleas left him unmoved. Jace thought Valentine kept her awake simply because she wasn't worth the effort to quiet. Despair at how far his father sunk, was felt equal to the revulsion in Jace's heart. Maia whipped her head around to look at Jace, her curses rebounding as she pleaded with burning eyes.

"Help me. Oh please. Goddamn it help me!"

Maia stretched out her arms to Jace. She had slim arms, like they were made for supplication. She quivered, put onto the rack and ready for the anvil to fall, and ready for the alter. Jace shuddered at the tears streaming down her face, knowing he'd never enter a church again.

Jace was frozen in place, watching Maia's perfect lilt mouth move like a dying fish. There was nothing he could do and he let her curses and pleas wash over him, a tide of deserved pain. Valentine moved forward, swinging Maia around and slinging her over his broad shoulder. Jace vividly remembered when Valentine would sweep him up in his arms, letting Jace have a spectacular view as he rode on his father's shoulders. Jace felt like throwing up.

As Valentine passed the doorway, Maia clung to it with all her might. Her claws had grown out and they were digging into the metal. Her gold eyes met Jace's with an accusation, looking sharp with hysteria. Valentine gave a final tug, yanking Maia with enough force that her claws were left behind in the metal as Maia screamed in pain. Valentine strode out of the room, Maia's screams getting higher and higher as all reason left her forever. Jace could see her struggle as Valentine walked farther down the hall, until they were completely out of sight, but Maia could still be heard. Jace didn't want to be there when her screams stopped. Jace would never forget the sound, even worse than the silence that would come after it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simon slumped on the floor. Jace didn't blame him. He was amazed at himself for still being able to stand. He had been chained to the spot. Jace felt drained by eternity. It was probably only a few minutes, but it would stretch on forever, on repeat in time. It was a reminder of his sin. Simon turned to Jace; it was another eternity in a second, and when Simon looked at him with eyes full of hate, Jace was glad. Simon was so full of hate he was choking on it, unable to speak for a few moments.

"You…bastard. You sick, fucking bastard."

Jace could only nod. This was true. The pure venom in the voice wasn't enough to deter. Rather, it acted as a stimulant. Jace bent down, stumbling as his fingers trembled. It took him several tries to pull out the knife out of his boot. Simon watched, radiating mistrust; he jutted out his chin, revealing a red bruise, and Jace had an odd thought that Isabelle would be proud of Simon.

"Go on. Stab me. Show Dad how it's done."

Jace didn't answer. He bent down to Simon's level. Simon spat angrily; he missed Jace's face, but he got the edge of his shirt.

"You're disgusting. The worst thing I've ever seen in my life."

Jace's hands fiddled with the chains, prodding and twisting them with the point of his knife. He shivered in the chill of the room and thought of how to word this.

"I know." He struggled to speak. "I know."

The metal was clicking loudly as Jace tried to hurry.

"We haven't got much time. You have to warn the clave-"

"That Valentine's got one more mook on the list?"

"You don't have to believe me."

Simon snorted.

Jace pressed on. "By all means don't. I deserve it-I deserve it all. Just warn the Clave."

"The Clave can screw itself."

"Oh they will. Valentine will make sure of that. At the very least, warn the Lightwoods', Clary-"

"Don't you dare talk to me about Clary!" Simon turned to him with livid eyes.

"Ok, ok, but please, I'm begging you-keep them safe. They have to know what Valentine is planning."

The cuffs clicked open, clacking to the floor. Simon rubbed his wrists, eyeing Jace as he watched Jace take off the ones strapped to Simon's ankle. Jace gritted his teeth at the noise the manacles made. He scooted back to give Simon his space as the vampire tested out his freedom. He looked at Jace with disbelief that changed into loathing the longer he looked at Jace.

"This doesn't change anything."

"I know." Jace stood, not daring to offer Simon a hand.

Jace watched Simon rise quickly with a fierce measured look. Simon looked ready to hit Jace, but he didn't mind. He would have let Simon do anything he wanted for as long as he felt like it. Simon seemed to know this, eyes narrowing.

"You think being sorry is gonna cut it? I'd send you to hell myself, but it wouldn't mean much because you wouldn't put up a fight. I hate you and I hate the fact that you aren't resisting, but I'd hate myself for beating up some one who won't fight back." He gave a dark laugh. "I just can't ever hate you fair and square can I?"

Jace tried to smile. "Sure you can. Please, don't forgive. I never will."

There was a loud clang in the cold air of the ship. Both stiffened in fear. Jace swallowed.

"We have to hurry."

Simon stared at him. "What? Just what are you planning?"

"C'mon on, you want to leave right?"

Simon gave him a look, but followed him all the same. Jace remembered the way back to the door leading to the deck. He made sure that Simon was keeping pace, their footsteps making no more sound than a whisper. Jace spoke as they walked.

"Go to the Institute; tell them Valentine is one more away from finishing the ritual. The Hunters were right, Valentine has stumbled onto the devil, which lets face it, is probably more than he can handle. Valentine isn't going to stop. He believes that he is doing God's work and he doesn't care what he has to do in order to get the job done. There is no bribe or bargain they can strike with him."

"So how…?

Jace shuddered. "I wish I knew."

"You know that-"

"I know. I'm a traitor to the Clave, but all the same. I have to warn them. I don't care what happens to me; I'll take whatever punishment gladly, but I need you to do this for me, please."

They reached the top step. Jace felt the door, pushing it open. A shaft of moonlight lit the two of them up, illuminating the luster of their hair and elongating their shadows.

"What about you?" Simon asked.

"I'll buy you time."

Simon didn't look surprised. "So you aren't coming with me?"

"No."

Simon stared at Jace for one long moment, his eyes sharp with thought. Jace realized he hadn't given Simon enough credit for his perceptiveness. He wasn't disappointed when Simon next spoke.

"So you're buying me time will probably involve death."

"Daddy dearest might not like me interfering with his plans."

Simon stared at Jace, his next words more serious than condemning.

"If you really want to make up for what you've done, don't die. That's cheating."

"Fair enough."

Jace walked onto the deck, Simon on his heels. Together they raced forward. Jace pointed to the vampire bike. To his relief, it was right where he left it. It gleamed like a living thing in the moonlight. Jace saw Simon shiver when he looked at it. Jace nodded his head to the bike. Simon looked back at Jace, dark eyes unreadable; there was another weighty pause before Simon asked Jace another question.

"What are you going to do?"

"Improvise."

It was a simple statement said without cockiness and Simon was giving him another searching gaze, this was one unexpectedly filled with something that looked like sadness. Simon didn't look as if he trusted Jace, but he swung his leg over the bike. It growled to life beneath Simon, rumbling as if pleased its rider was a vampire. Simon kicked off, letting the bike shoot forward and hurtle down the bow. Simon put more throttle to the engine, and it roared beneath him as flew into the air. Simon didn't look back as Jace watched him for a moment before going back to the doorway and disappearing back inside the darkness of the ship.

SPNTMI

Simon pounded on the door, the reverberations making his knuckles rattle. The motorcycle stood discarded on the curb as he knocked on the Institute's doors. He slammed with both fists, rang the bell, than pounded the door again. The door was wrenched open just as he was about to knock again. Mayrse Lightwood stood over the threshold, looking anxious. Her face fell as soon as she saw it was him. Simon realized she hoped it was someone else. Next to her, almost close enough to breath down her neck was the Inquisitor. Simon was surprised he hadn't noticed her before; she was staring at him as though he was something stuck to her shoe, but worse.

He could see that behind her were the shadowy forms of who must have been Alec and Isabelle. The tall form of Magnus looming behind them. They were peering anxiously over the shoulders of the two women, and trying to keep Simon's attention. He felt a crashing in his chest; he had no idea how to tell them what happened.

"Well?" she huffed. "What do you want Downworlder?" her voice full of flint.

"Jace." He panted.

Maryse blinked sharply as if splashed with water. She was wire tight, the lines on her face stretched so sharply she didn't look real. It was an incredibly agonizing face and Simon had to stop himself from pulling away from her when she grabbed his shoulders, her hands digging so firmly in place, Simon thought she might actually shatter her fingers. Simon knew she wasn't trying to hurt him, but he winced; Maryse seemed to realize this and she pulled back, and Simon saw the look of someone trying very hard to stay composed.

He ignored the strangely triumphant look on the Inquisitor's face. She looked even more contorted than Maryse, and she was actually disturbing Simon. He ignored the woman and locked eyes with Maryse, and felt a strange prickling all over his body. Maryse's eyes widened and Simon turned to see the sky becoming lighter.

"Hurry, to the Sanctuary."

Maryse led him across a courtyard, and Simon noted at one time the Institute really had been a church. They passed a bench overgrown with vines and flowers. Maryse opened a large slab-like door that was rusting at the edges, it screamed loudly in protest when it was pushed open. Simon winced; Maia's screams were fresh in his ears. He followed Maryse as she rapidly descended the passageway. It was dark, and a small part of Simon was relieved for it.

It led to a large circular room. Pillars surrounded the center and in the center itself was a large pillar. The ceiling was large, doming when it finally closed in. The room was more spacious than it looked, but Simon was feeling oddly claustrophobic. The cleanliness of the marble pillars hurt his eyes.

A loud slam made him jump. A staircase leading to a door was the source. The door had burst open and revealed The Inquisitor, looking very aggrieved at having to follow Maryse. Following closely was Isabelle and Alec. Magnus descended the stairs slower, looking no more pleased than anyone else. An imposing man who Simon assumed was Isabelle and Alec's father loomed behind them. In fact they all looked distressed. Most distressed of all was someone who was behind Magnus, someone with red hair. Clary was staring wide eyed at Simon, and quite possibly with relief.

"Simon!" Isabelle shouted.

Simon blinked at the almost frantic cry; it wasn't like Isabelle to get worked up over things, but she pushed past the Inquisitor, whose lip curled when Isabelle pushed past her to get to Simon's side.

"What is this place?" Simon asked.

Isabelle waved her hands, as if hurrying to banish the question away. Alec however answered.

"It's a part of the Institute that was deliberately left an unconsecrated ground. It's for people who need to speak to Shadowhunters but can't get inside the Institute. We don't use this room much anymore."

"What about Jace?" Maryse sharply asked.

The group tensed, like hunting dogs on point. The air was charged and all their eyes were on Simon. He felt like a stage light was burning his skin. He had no idea how to say what he had to say.

"We don't know where he is!" cried Isabelle. "He gave Magnus the slip."

Magnus scowled at that, but he elaborated. "He is somewhere where I cannot track him."

The Inquisitor looked as if she were gloating; her face pale and hollow and Simon shuddered.

"So he must be by a body of water." Alec reasoned.

Simon tried to hold back the painful spasm on his face; Magnus seemed to understand where this was headed, and he looked at Alec with saddened eyes. Simon was selfishly glad that he wasn't the only person who had figured it out. He tried to avoid the Inquisitor's gaze, feeling the weight of the truth slamming down on him. He wished the truth wasn't so painful to say. He was confused why he didn't wanted to gleefully shout about what Jace had done, but the somber, worried faces of a family kept the words from coming out.

"He is." Simon choked out.

"Where?!" Isabelle shouted.

He flinched, but the undivided attention wouldn't let up. He struggled to let the words out, but if he anyone cared, he didn't notice. He took a shuddery breath.

"He's on-"

"The pier. On Valentine's ship to be precise." The Inquisitor cut in.

Her voice was like razors, gleefully cutting. The Lightwoods' stared at her, disbelieving. She seemed to revel in their shock, and as if she had been rehearsing for this very moment, pulled something out of her pocket. It was a tiny glimmering shard. It looked like it was reflecting a piece of meadow. Simon heard Clary give a little gasp of recognition. The Inquisitor didn't let anyone speak, she was more than happy to explain herself.

"Yes this is the portal, frozen in mirror form. I know all about its significance to Jonathan, and I knew it wouldn't be far from his person. So I had made a copy. I simply switched the two, and put a tracking rune on it. I saw everything." Her eyes gleamed with something poisonous. "Jonathan Morgenstern is as guilty of treason as his father."

"What?! How dare you?!" Isabelle sputtered with rage. "Jace is nothing like that horrible-

"Explain." Maryse's taunt face jutted out.

"He was helping his father carry out the Ritual of Infernal Conversion."

The Inquisitor's face was like a jack o' lantern, horribly contorted with amusement and rage. The combination was the strangest thing Simon had ever seen, and it was gloating when it stated the facts. She turned to Simon, and he fought the urge to bare his teeth at her.

"I believe the vampire knows. He witnessed the whole thing; that other sad downworlder being dragged away screaming. As I recall, it was Jonathan who chose her to die first."

"Shut up!" screamed Isabelle.

Isabelle grabbed Simon by the shoulders; her grip was a strong as her mothers'. She was shaking Simon hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Alec gently pried her away, but she took no notice, still staring at Simon, challenging him to contradict the Inquisitor, but at the same time she looked very vulnerable. Alec was staring at Simon with flashing eyes, and Simon had never seen him look so desperate before.

"It's not true, Simon, it can't be true." Isabelle insisted.

Simon didn't want his words to be twisted by the Inquisitor, who would never say that Jace had changed his mind. Without wanting to, Simon recalled the look of anguish as he watched Jace watch his father carry Maia away. He truly did feel guilty about what he had done. Simon did not want to admit it, but the torture was clear on Jace's face when he was in that room. He'd never forget, just as much as Simon knew he wouldn't.

It almost seemed like a violation that the Inquisitor would get to see their pain, get some chance to control it, and make the story hers. Simon cringed, now knowing that she was watching and hadn't done anything about it, no call for reinforcements to save them all. He was abruptly angry.

"Well didn't you hear us?" he asked her.

The Inquisitor scoffed. "Obviously not, but it is more than clear he is guilty. I saw enough."

"Really?" Simon asked.

They all watched as the two of them spoke; it was almost like a tennis match, words going back and forth. Maryse looked like she wanted to step in. The Inquisitor began to speak again.

"Tell the truth vampire, or I can force it out of you. Don't forget, that I am the might of the Clave and you are just a downworlder."

Simon thought he had felt enough of helplessness, but apparently it wasn't through with him yet. He nodded, and their reactions were terrible. Isabelle shouted at him, flinging curses like they were heavy objects and Alec's jaw was locked tight, Maryse had closed her eyes and for a brief seconded looked like the most defeated person in the world. Simon did not want to face Clary's reaction. He tried to protest, on behalf of Jace, even though he was angry at himself for doing so. The Inquisitor battered his defenses away as he tried to speak for Jace. She pried the truth out of him mercilessly, as if she wielded a large crowbar.

People suddenly began to speak all at once, and they deafened Simon, his vampire hearing shoving the words into his ears. Isabelle had to be held back by her mother, who was being berated for her lack of control over her children. Alec would not let Magnus touch him as he demanded details of what had happened, quietly furious. Simon jumped when he felt someone brush up against him. It was Clary, and she was also looking at him with desperation. He wanted to scream at her to stop looking at him like that, but he reined it in. She stared so deeply into his eyes that he shivered, wishing it was for a different reason.

"Is it true?" there was no wavering in her voice.

Simon wanted to hold her in his arms. She looked so delicate, like some piece of china flame. So pale and slim, but he had to resist. He bowed his head, and heard her sharp deep intake of breath. He wanted to reassure her, but there wasn't much he could do.

"He didn't want to. I realized it the second he walked into that room. Valentine made him choose which one to…take first."

"So…Maia is dead?"

"…Yeah. Valentine needs only one downworlder left to complete the ritual. Jace helped me escape. I'd be dead if he hadn't done that."

"We tried to find him. Magnus called me, and I wish I let-" Clary had to say something else. "So, anyway, I called Luke and we looked, and he called the Hunters. They came with us, but the Inquisitor wouldn't let them in. The Inquisitor even said '"A mundane is no match for even the lowest downworlder. It's simply not possible."' She barely let Luke get in."

"Luke is here? I didn't see him."

"He's in the back; nothing could have kept him out." Clary gave Simon a wobbly smile. "I think he's going to tell the hunters about what's going on when we leave. They're probably still outside."

"Yeah probably." Simon felt too weak to smile.

They stared at each other, the sounds of the chaos surrounding them was fading away. Simon wished it was just them, and Clary nodded her head even though he hadn't said a word.

"Silence!" bellowed the Inquisitor.

Amazingly, this did silence them.

"I know exactly what is going on. From this moment on, I am assuming command on the grounds that the Lightwoods are unfit to run this Institute. You have allowed downworlders and even mundanes inside these walls, letting them do as they please, dictating terms to us, and daring to think they know better than the law! That is not only proof enough of your staggering incompetence, but that you have most certainly been in collusion with Valentine!"

"Absurd!" roared Robert Lightwood. "Where is the proof?!"

"I'll tell you!" the Inquisitor shouted. "In fact, I think I can fill in the gaps quite nicely. It goes like this: Valentine and his followers had planned their uprising so well, that even if it failed, there would always be someone to carry it on. Those followers were you. You have never abandoned Valentine, but instead faked their surrender, accepting exile to win back the graces of the Clave. When Valentine sent Jonathan here to you, he knew you would raise him as a spy, loyal only to him. So that he could cripple the Clave up from under itself. A perfect little weapon, only I have figured it out."

This was met with outrage of the loudest kind, as all the Lightwoods protested. Simon could finally see Luke, and he was gazing at the Inquisitor with pity.

"Imogen, please be reasonable. Whatever happened on the ship, it's clear that Valentine is the problem. I know what happened with Stephen was-"

"Be quiet!" she thundered back. "That has no bearing on this situation, werewolf! Valentine is an irredeemable monster, as you know full well." She sneered at Luke.

Simon felt Clary tremble next to him, but she said nothing, her green eyes hard as jewels as she stared at the Inquisitor with loathing.

"There is only one remedy for this. I will call the Clave, reinforcements will be brought and we will attack Valentine's ship. Jonathan Morgenstern will be arrested on the spot, if he is cooperative. That is his best outcome, since taking him alive might not be possible."

Maryse looked fierce and sickened, more so than the rest of the Lightwoods and she seemed to be the only one left with the power to speak, but her voice was drowned out by the Inquisitor.

"At the time of his arrest, he will be dealt with, as will all of you. I will order a full investigation into this family and its poor excuse for an institute." She stared at them all with burning eyes. "Now, call for reinforcements at once! We will make an assault on the Morgenstern's' as soon as the Conclave arrives!"

"Imogen-" Luke tried to speak.

"Inquisitor." She intoned. "Leave immediately. You have no business here, and neither do those mundanes that came with you. If any of them, or you, tries to interfere in Nephilim business again, I will put blades to all of you." She rounded on Magnus. "You, however, your services are required. I know for a fact Valentine will have put powerful wards around his ship. You will strip them down, and I will not tolerate a refusal."

Magnus smiled tightly, and seemed to gather himself. "Well when you put it that way, I am more than happy to be of assistance." He didn't seem able to come up with a wittier remark.

"We will discuss the battle plans when the reinforcements arrive." The Inquisitor motioned for the Shadowhunters to follow her back upstairs.

The entire time that the Inquisitor had been speaking she had progressively begin to sound deranged. It was clear however, that she was in charge and as Luke began to leave, Simon realized something.

"Wait, I can't go out there-sunlight."

Simon was glad that it was Maryse who addressed him; she only spared the Inquisitor a small glance before speaking to Simon.

"You can stay here until the sun sets, then I would return home if I were you."

Simon nodded quickly. "I will. Thanks for letting me stay Mrs. Lightwood."

Amazingly, that seemed to earn him a small smile. It was gone as quickly as it came. She followed her husband and she squeezed his hand as they began to walk up the steps. They ignored Luke, who grabbed a hold of Magnus's arm and was speaking to him in low tones; there was a small flash of what could have been a cell phone, but Simon couldn't be sure. Their conversation was brief and intense, and they moved in opposite directions. Magnus reluctantly walked up the stairs with the rest of the Lightwoods', and Luke went to the two of them, putting a hand on Clary's shoulder.

"I want to stay here with Simon." She said immediately.

"Clary-" Simon began.

"No, I don't want you to be here alone."

"I'll be ok. Really."

"Simon let me do this, please."

Luke didn't look surprised at Clary's insistence and his grip on her shoulder tightened. Simon nodded; he knew Clary wouldn't back down. The three walked back into the corridor. Luke was grim faced, and it made Simon long for the old days when he couldn't imagine Luke ever looking like that. They moved out of sight; the others had departed and they were left alone, but Luke didn't seem to want to take chances. Simon and Clary traded looks; they waited for Luke to say what he had to.

"I spoke to Magnus. He'll let us know what's going on."

"You're going to help?" Clary asked.

Luke shrugged. "You want to right? You are going to try and rescue Jace." It was a statement. "If you insist on doing something reckless, you won't be doing it without me."

Clary quickly wrapped her arms around Luke and gripped tight. "Thank you."

Luke shrugged, as if rescuing captives and assaulting villains was normal. "No big deal. I had a feeling you'd try to pull some sort of stunt."

Clary's laugh was muffled by Luke's heavy jacket. "So now what?"

"We wait then when they make their plan, we go with it." Simon said.

"Wait." Clary turned her head to look at Simon. "We?"

"Yeah. We. Clary, did you seriously think I wasn't going to come with?"

"It'll be dangerous!"

"It's been dangerous for a long time now. You're going aren't you?"

"Of course."

"Then there's nothing left to talk about."

The firmness in Simon's voice surprised him; he knew she felt guilty for how his life had gone topsy-turvy, but he didn't care, not when she was standing so close to him. Simon didn't blame her in the slightest and he willed his thoughts to her. Clary nodded once, her eyes suspiciously bright. The air felt charged, and Simon felt the odd wellspring of understanding, and he knew he was on the urge of figuring something out. Luke gently disentangled himself from Clary, and began to speak again.

"I'll better get going. I'll pick you guys up at sunset; it'll take at least all day for the reinforcements to arrive and I have a feeling that when The Conclave will get here, it won't take long for them to prepare to mount an assault on Valentine's ship." He became very serious. "If you insist on fighting, then stay close to me. Don't deviate from the plan we make, because it'll have to coincide with the Clave's. Magnus will call with the details when he gets the plan, since he is such a big part of it."

"I take it you are going to get weapons?" Simon asked.

"Yes, and to talk to those hunters." he shook his head, almost smiling. "Those people are a determined bunch. They'll be there, I'm sure of it, so the more numbers all the better for us."

"I've got Jo's number, and I can let her know what's going on." Simon volunteered.

"Ok."

Luke gave them both fleeting smiles before walking out the door; Simon shielded by Clary when the light spilled out between the cracks. Clary didn't move even after Luke shut he door; Simon breathed in her scent. She gently clung to him, more of an embrace than anything else. He felt a painful bliss when she stayed this close, her hair tickling his neck. He was very close to figuring something out.

"Clary let out a breath. " So…"

"So."

"I take it, you'll tell me this is stupid?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Because Jace might be a traitor?" her voice so hesitant and soft, it gave him pause.

"You think there is some truth to it?"

Clary gave a little shrug. "Maybe. I thought because of the way he was raised, he might not want to, but…" she sighed. "You know when you told me about not being able to trust he person you loved, and how painful it was for you? Well it hurt me to hurt you, even if I didn't mean it. Now that I know how that feels, it's a wonder that you don't hate me." She sounded almost close to tears. "With my mother, Jace, and you-I keep hurting everyone I love."

"I don't hate you, and I know Jace doesn't. He feels the same. He made a mistake, and he knew it, and it was painful for him. I'm not lying to protect you, but I think he just-"he broke off. "I don't know why I'm defending him. He was the cause of Maia's death, and it kills me, to know that whenever he gets hurt, it'll hurt you. So I don't think I can forgive him, no matter how sorry he is. I know you probably don't want to here this, because you love him."

Clary inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry. Its wrong, but…" She pressed herself harder to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I do. I don't expect you to forgive him, I'm having a hard time thinking about what he did, but maybe I can still have faith in him, in the way I do with you. I think, we've all done the same things to each other, so maybe we'll hurt each other less now." She sounded so hopeful. "I'm sorry for putting you through so much."

"I don't mind." He was surprised at how much he meant it. "Really. Have faith in him, I'll always love you, no matter who you love." He kissed the top of her head.

"I've always wanted-"she broke off. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Simon blinked. "Because it's true."

"I know. It just feels like you're saying goodbye." A thought came to her. "You know, Valentine needs vampire's blood to finish the ritual, and if you go on that ship…"

"I know, but that doesn't matter. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"When we get there, don't leave my sight."

SPNTMI

Waiting for sunset didn't feel long enough. Simon never felt so peaceful before when Clary was in his arms. He wanted to pretend that it was just the two of them, and no danger and they would be together forever. The time for pretending was over, and they reluctantly moved apart when Clary's phone buzzed, letting her know Luke was there. She flipped her phone open, reading the text that she had gotten.

"Looks like the Clave finished making the plans, and Luke's just waiting for us so he can tell everyone."

They picked themselves off the floor, and opened the door. Simon breathed deep; the cool air sharpened his senses even further. The fight was almost there, looming over the horizon. He realized he should probably be more nervous, but when so many people would around him, he could only feel nervous for them. Luke was waiting for them with his blue pick up truck, and he nodded for them to hurry. He was the only one there. Simon turned to look back at the Institute, it looked very forbidding and he could just picture the business going on inside it.

Wordlessly, they climbed into the truck's cab and Luke drove half a block away and pulled into a parking lot. The only cars that were parked there was the black Impala, and a large red and brown truck. It was newer looking than Luke's and Clary knew that even with her limited car knowledge that it was a different type. Everyone was milling about, waiting for them. Simon followed Clary as she clambered out of the truck before him.

Clary watched Dean and Sam pull things out of their trunk, and Cas was handling their blades with a look of concentration. She saw Jo standing next to an older woman who could only have been her mother. Simon walked to them, and Clary followed. She felt suddenly shy as Simon introduced Clary to Jo's mother, and Simon began to talk a bit shyly himself.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Harvelle." He said.

"Ellen will do just fine." She regarded him easily. "I heard about what happened at the hotel."

"Jo was amazing." Simon quickly said. "She saved my life, as bad as it was, she really had it covered. I would have been dead. So…I hope you're not mad about me putting her in danger-" his eyes were wide and soft.

Clary marveled at Simon's near supernatural power to make anyone's mother like him.

Ellen roughly ruffled Simon's hair. "No worries kid. Much as I don't like her hunting, she's got a straight head. I knew she'd never leave anyone behind, I ain't mad at you, but those shadow people for allowing something so dangerous to be in their backyards'."

Luke stepped in easily and introduced himself. Clary thought she might have been too nervous when she first got there. It seemed everyone was going to get along just fine, and the air was charged with a businesslike energy. Only Simon and she seemed out of their element. Weapons were being passed around, with Cas softly stroking the blades, and Clary saw that when he did that, runes and sigils appeared on their surfaces. He was explaining quickly.

"This script will weaken the ancients that we will undoubtedly face. It will prevent them from reforming themselves. They are not to be underestimated; many of them are poisonous on top of having incredible speed and strength."

Luke nodded. "I have some weapons in the trunk."

Luke's cell phone beeped. He flipped it open and read the message quickly.

"Magnus says to meet him by the waterfront. They plan on bringing their own boats and take Valentine's ship when Magnus has taken down the wards protecting the ship." He snapped the phone shut. "I'll lead the way."

The Hunters nodded.

"We'll be able to assist them. Magnus knows a way for us to board the ship with them."

"How?"

"By using a spell. He wasn't specific,"

Dean suppressed a groan, but nodded all the same.

"We should get going."

Clary watched as Sam, Dean, and Cas got in the Impala. Jo followed Ellen into their truck and Clary followed Simon and Luke back into the pickup. The two other cars followed Luke's, making the three cars turn down the streets at a frantic pace. Clary felt that she was a part of some weird low budget war movie. She shuddered, her body unable to keep calm. She didn't think it would be like this, always wondering when the fight would end, and if it didn't, would she ever get used to it?

Clary reached for Simon's hand. It felt cool and it made goosebumps rise on her arms. That didn't stop her from squeezing tight and she welcomed the pressure when he squeezed back.

SPNTMI

The waterfront was deserted; there were no sounds of workmen. No shouting or the loud sounds of machinery or trucks. Clary wasn't used to the silence, it was creepy. Water lapped at the docks, concrete dark where water splashed. The darkening sky made the water look foreboding and filled with danger. Clary couldn't help but peer out onto the river, wondering what they were going to face. All she had was her mother's stele. She touched the burn on her forearm; it felt good to her fingertips to trace its pattern.

All around her, everyone unlocked their doors and began to gear up. Clary stared. Sam and Dean wore flannel as naturally as Luke did. There was none of the tough black material Shadowhunters wore. It wasn't as sophisticated, but they carried themselves in a similar manner. It was obvious that they had done this before. Offers of spare machetes or holy water were passed around. Clary watched as Dean slipped knife after knife onto his body, and Sam showing Cas how to load a shotgun. Ellen was swapping large blades with Jo; Clary felt an unexpected strain of jealousy. Clary could have had that with Jocelyn, but her mother never bothered to show her, or talk about. This was something they could never share and the desperate longing surprised Clary. Just because she disliked fighting, didn't mean she couldn't learn…

"Here."

Clary turned and Luke pressed a large knife in her hand. He looked regretful. His hands still clasped hers, showing her how to hold it properly, and his arms swung hers in quick arcs and jabs. Luke didn't have to speak, and Clary was grateful that he didn't. As he gave her a belt and strapped in a set of daggers, Clary could see Simon getting a similar lesson from Jo. Clary glanced away, and stared back at Luke, who was looking at her with a wistful expression.

"I'm going against your mother's wishes, but…" he sighed. " You look so much like Jocelyn right now."

Clary wished he didn't sound that way and for a moment, nothing would relieve it. If only she knew a way to let him know it wasn't his fault.

"Is that Magnus?" Simon asked.

Clary turned. The tall figure was indeed familiar, but she could see why no one could make him out right away. Magnus was not wearing one of his usual flamboyant outfits, but a somber looking frock coat with black pants. There was no glitter or jewelry, and let left his hair down.

"Huh." Dean murmured. "Left Michael Jackson at home then?"

No one else said anything as Magnus strode to them and he was looking unusually grim, but Clary couldn't help questioning his appearance.

"No glitter?"

There was a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Not quite apropos my dear." He turned to Luke. "Now, I need to borrow your truck." He pointed to Ellen. "And yours too."

"Mine?"

"Yes. Since we have no boats we'll have to improvise."

Dean shifted protectively in front of the impala. This earned a smirk from Magnus.

"Relax, yours is too small for what I have in mind."

Dean looked as if he couldn't decide to be relieved or offended. Magnus continued.

"I'll put a spell on the two trucks. This will make them be able to drive on the water. One truck will be for me. I can't physically go onto the ship to take down the defenses Valentine has put up. They are incredibly strong and can only be stripped from a distance. That's the only support I'll be able to give you. The other truck will go with the shadowhunter boats. It's up to you which car you'll decide to go in."

"Will you need a lot of cover?" Ellen asked.

"Honestly I think I can handle it. It'll be up to the rest of you to destroy the demons on the ship. The shadowhunters will have their hands full."

"We'll leave you to it. What do you need from us?" Ellen asked again.

"Just your best."

Ellen nodded and Magnus quickly set to work on the trucks, chalking pentagrams and their accompanying runes onto them. They gleamed faintly and Magnus placed a hand on each truck and began to chant. The markings looked brighter as the blue sparks frantically burst and showered the two cars. Dean and Jo shouted as Sam and Ellen jumped back. Simon whistled, which earned a smile from Luke. Only Cas didn't react, albeit a slight widening of the eyes.

Clary's heart was beating double time, and she knew she wouldn't forget this for as long as she lived, even if her life happened to only last a few more hours. As the spell finished, the wind died down and Magnus looked usual self again. He faced the group again.

"Follow me."

Magnus gestured to Luke's truck.

"Here you are."

"Thank you." Luke said.

"Don't thank me yet. You still have to get on the ship." Magnus replied.

Luke smiled grimly. "True enough."

"Alright, if you want to board the ship, get in Mrs. Harvelle's car." Magnus said.

They all moved to Ellen's car. Clary, Luke, and Simon followed each other into the passenger seat as Jo hurried to grab shot gun. Dean gave Cas a nudge to get into the backseat as well, with Sam getting inside last.

"Well this won't be awkward at all." He grunted as he was pressed in between Cas and Sam.

Simon wriggled in his seat as everyone crammed together. Clary started to tell Simon about the time everyone had been shoved into the elevator at the institute, making Jo laugh. There was enough room for Luke to be in the very back, where the weapons were stored, but even with that, it was very hard to maneuver around next to all the piles of weapons.

"Let's get this show on the road then." Ellen said.

The mood sobered and they didn't speak as Ellen began to drive beside Magnus and off the pavement and into the water. Clary listened to Dean's sharp intake of breath, and Clary couldn't blame him. This was one of the strangest things that had ever happened to her, which from the way her life had been going, was saying a lot. Clary twisted back in her seat to see Luke smile at her.

The wheels didn't sink as they spun forward sending up sprays of water. Clary watched the water ripple, imagining hideous monsters lurking beneath the surface, waiting to drag them all down into the dark water. She shuddered, but somehow it was better than thinking about Jace.

Her brother, who in fact could be a traitor in the Clave's eyes for 'siding' with Valentine. She didn't want it to be true, but she remembered how he looked that night at Renwick's', the way Valentine taunted Jace on just how to kill him. Deep down, Clary could understand why Jace would want to go see his father, but what Valentine did had no justifications and Jace knew that…right? Clary didn't know anymore, she just kept thinking in circles. What she needed was Jace, to talk to him…

"Hey."

Clary blinked. Simon's hand was holding a firm grip on her shoulder. It felt like an anchor and Clary smiled weakly back.

"It'll be okay."

Clary stared hard at Simon. She saw trust and confidence in his eyes, the full force of his feelings for her were clear. It made her want to live up to his expectations. She knew Jace looked at her in the same way, and in a sense that made them have something in common. It went full circle. Clary covered the hand that was grasping her shoulder with such soft pressure. They couldn't go back to the way things were, but maybe that was a good thing. Clary leaned on him, catching the shimmer of his eyes.

"We'll find him."

The two nodded in unison. The truck began to slow. Clary watched eagerly out the window and stared in shock. Small dark boats, more like skiffs, were gliding through the water towards a looming ship. The shadowhunters had Valentine's ship surrounded. Magnus pulled up next to them, leaning his head out the window as he cut the ignition.

"This is as far as I go. Try not to die."

"Same to you." Ellen called.

Ellen sped the car up and Clary managed to catch watch Magnus shouted after her.

"I don't know what I'll do with your car if you do!"

Clary shivered when she heard Ellen's gruff laugh. Her car gathered a bit more speed as they shrank away from Luke's pickup. Clary bit her lip and tore her gaze away from Magnus and looked forward. Simon gave a sharp inhale of breath almost in unison with Jo. Clary looked at him in askance, and he pointed. Clary squinted and then gasped. She poked her head out the window, and it was cold enough that she could watch her breath puff out and spiral up into the air. The stars gleamed against a black sky that looked soft as velvet. The skyline was bright and expansive, and if she listened hard enough, she could hear the sounds of the city. A crescent moon hung in the sky, and by its light she could make out the sleek shadowhunter boats that surrounded them. They were completely silent and Clary grimaced at all the noise the truck was making. It even looked bulky against the graceful shadowhunter's vessels.

Clary wondered if the shadowhunters could see them that well; she knew Simon's vampire eyes were sharper than hers, but tonight, her senses felt just as good. Maybe because this night could very well be her last, but she needed to think about the others who were beside her, trying to bring Valentine to justice.

Clary took a deep breath. Both Luke and Simon give her looks of concern, but Clary shook her head. A small rapping sound made her jump. Dean had knocked on the windows, and was now motioning her for weapons. When the truck stopped, Clary picked up sawed off shotguns and Luke flinched away when the silver was grabbed, but helped Clary pass weapons back and forth. Simon exchanged a smile with Jo as he passed her a flask of holy water.

Ellen angled the car and Clary saw the ladder on the side of the hull. Shadowhunter vessels were angling by it too, pressing close to the car. Clary could actually see the looks of shock on the faces of the shadowhunters.

"Everybody got enough?" Ellen asked.

"Yeah I think we're good" Sam replied.

"Be on guard." Cas instructed.

"Yeah yeah." Dean grumbled.

They had to struggle to get aboard, shoved aside by shadowhunter boats. Dean gave a few quick hand signals that Clary vaguely recognized from television that they were military. Clary shivered, but kept quiet as she felt the weight of the knives strapped to her as she scooted to the right, trying to keep her balance. She looked down; there were at least a couple of inches of water between the car and the ladder. Clary looked up to see dark shapes shifting above her. Shadowhunter boarding the ship, she lowered her gaze to see Dean move forward, reaching to grab the ladder. Clary moved to let him go first.

Clary watched Sam climb up the ladder and his silence surprised her. He seemed different now-in his hunter mode. Dean went next, and behind him was Cas, his trench coat flapping as the angel climbed after the brothers. Jo was next, grabbing the dark rungs quickly as Ellen followed closely behind. Clary watched in interest. If they could do it, so could she. Clary could feel Simon behind her, and she gritted her teeth. It took her a few tries to grab the ladder. It was cold and slippery and she nearly lost her balance. Heart pounding, Clary climbed carefully, breathing evenly. She reached the top, hands holding a death grip on the railing. Clary swung one leg over the side, wobbling and nearly tumbling over the edge. She gasped and Sam grabbed her arm and below her Simon put one hand on her other thigh. Clary didn't have time to react as Sam hauled her up and over the side. He nodded to her, and together they pulled Simon up. Luke didn't need assistance as he hauled himself onto the deck.

Shadowhunters surrounded them with looks of confusion and hostility. They stared at the motley group of Downworlders, hunters, and Clary.

"What are you doing here?!" one hissed

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. Luke put a hand on Dean's shoulder, urging for silence. The shadowhunters, clad in black, looked like pieces of the night sky, torn from where they were meant to be. They stiffened slightly, like hunting dogs on point. It was done so collectively, that it was as if they were actually one person rather than a group. Clary shuddered. They seemed invincible, but she knew that couldn't be true…

"Well, I'd bid you welcome, but you have all been rather rude."

The shadowhunters braced for an attack as Valentine stood before them, and who was next to him was-

"Jace!" Isabelle shrieked.

Next to Valentine, Jace seemed small and soft beside his father, who was sure and broad. Clary could see what Simon meant when he told her that Jace regretted what he had done; the cool mask that Jace wore had cracks, the anguish peeking out from beneath it. Clary stared hard and Jace only met her gaze for a moment, but he look he gave her made her whole body clench. His eyes were a burning color, dark embers of pain. Clary wanted to move, but her feet wouldn't let her as Isabelle shouted again for Jace's attention. Jace didn't bother to answer either girl. Maryse was pulling Isabelle back, her face tight and she stared down Valentine, her body rigid with fury. Alec was looked oddly blank, staring at Jace. The Inquisitor pushed her way through the crowd of shadowhunters that had begun to surround Valentine and Jace.

"I commend you all on your tenacity. My ship is well guarded. "Valentine smiled.

"Not well enough." Maryse said.

Valentine shrugged. "At any rate, this is as far as you go. My son and I will stop you."

Isabelle let out a tiny sound. "Jace…please…"

Valentine smirked, eyes moving between Jace and the rest of the shadowhunters. Jace's face had gone completely white, and there was something desperate in his eyes. He tried to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. Valentine's smile grew bigger and Clary wanted to leap over and strangle him.

"Well, Jonathan, I believe Maryse's daughter has something to say to you. It is rude not to answer her."

Clary's fury doubled. Valentine was taunting Jace again, something no father should, or would do. Jace turned to his father once, and he closed his eyes, pain marring his features, fling over them as Jace slumped his shoulders. For a fraction of a second he looked as though he might collapse. Something was happening to him as he sighed and straightened up and exhaled slowly. His eyes fluttered open, and Clary could have sworn she saw tears. He looked weak and strong at the same time, and to Clary that was oddly beautiful. Jace looked briefly back to Valentine before moving forward and he opened his mouth to speak. Before anyone could react, with only the sound of blowing fabric to let them know what happened, the Inquisitor stood before Jace, a silver blade pressed into his neck.

"JACE!" Isabelle screamed. "What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted at the Inquisitor.

"Be quiet little girl!" the Inquisitor snarled.

"Don't speak to my daughter like that Imogen." Maryse said tightly.

The Inquisitor pressed the blade harder to Jace's neck, and Jace winced. Clary sucked in a breath, and Dean grimaced even harder. The Inquisitor's arms were wrapped around Jace's shoulders, her hands in a claw like grip. Jace was effectively pinned and he froze, unable to move anything except his eyes. His eyes were dark, but somehow elated. As though he was happy to be threatened and the expression made Clary shiver. The Inquisitor's eyes bulged in her face, which stood out from the rest of her pale, pointed face and made her look like a cartoon super villain. Her fingers curled into talons and she kept a steady grip on her weapon. She shot Valentine a look of demented triumph.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself Morgenstern? I have your son."

"That you do, but I wouldn't underestimate him if I were you."

"Don't you understand?!" The Inquisitor shrieked. "Your child's life is in my hands?!"

Valentine's voice was calm. "True enough. I take it that you want something from me?"

"Very astute of you. Give me the mortal instruments and I'll give you your son back. If not, I'll slit his throat where I stand."

Valentine merely raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

The Inquisitor sneered. "Don't think I won't."

"Oh, I have no doubts of your intentions."

The Inquisitor's face turned from incredulous to horrified, before morphing into murderous.

"So…you will let your child die…instead of giving-"

"I could have told you that." Jace croaked.

"But…" The Inquisitor sputtered. "How-"

Valentine laughed. "I understand this is a difficult concept for you, but children have to make their own decisions."

The Inquisitor turned purple. "But-"

"Jonathan-"

Valentine never got to finish as the leathery wings of a demon descended onto the Inquisitor. Its powerful wings battered Jace, its scales cutting into his face. The Inquisitor thrashed as black talons raked across her, trying to grab her. Jace pulled away, stumbling back as the Inquisitor gasped, her teeth stained red. The creature was huge, saurian in size and scaly. Its eyes were on the sides of its head, jet black and opaque. Its long snout was like a pelican's beak and filled to the brim with serrated teeth. Its snout battered the Inquisitor, teeth scissoring up and down on her flesh. The Inquisitor slashed at the demon, her arm blurring with motion, becoming more frantic as the creature used it weight to keep the Inquisitor boxed in. Its talons seized the Inquisitor, clamping down. The crunch of bones, the stark whiteness jutting out of mutilated flesh. The Inquisitor screamed, eyes rolling in her head as her body heaved. The winged creature lifted her up, and the Inquisitor's blood cascaded onto the deck as she was hauled up into the air. The Inquisitor's blade clattered to the ground as she screamed, but her cries were drowned out by screeches. There was a crunch, snapping, squishing, and squelching. A small thump was heard as a bloody lump hit the deck, and a much larger lump fell. It was the Inquisitor. She was dead. She was vivisected, her organs peeking out beneath stained clothes, and she was missing her head.

The world exploded as ancients and demons burst onto the scene. A multitude of creatures coming at them from all sides, the creatures with fangs, tusks, claws racing towards the crowd of shadowhunters, who braced themselves for the onslaught. A six legged horse creature with a skeleton astride it charged, its rusted sword pointed straight at them. Dean shot at it and it shrieked in pain, still running towards him. Dean held his ground, shooting it again.

"Come on you son of a bitch!" Dean shouted.

Valentine laughed and Clary made a grab for her knife, but a demon with leather wings and long claws swooped low, obscuring her view of Valentine. She screamed as the creature tried to claw her face, and Jace's shouts were murky to her ears. Suddenly, Simon was there and he charged at the flying demon, snarling as he crashed on top of it and began to punch it wildly. The thing bellowed in anger as Simon drew blood, his hands wet with the dark color and it thrashed, its wings buffeting Clary about as she tried to reach Simon, who was gripping the monster tight as it tried to throw him off. Clary flinched when Simon struggled to sink his teeth into the grey hide. Blood spurted between the gaps in Simon's teeth as he clung tenuously to the demon. A sudden shout made Clary jump, and the sounds came rushing back. She realized that she had just been standing there, knife limp in her hand, staring at the space she was sure Jace used to be at. Someone shoved her, and she didn't have time to react as another demon burst out, attacking the shadowhunter who knocked her aside. Clary didn't recognize the board shouldered man who plunged a seraph blade into the demon that gored its tusks into the man as they simultaneously killed each other. Clary blinked, and spun around-Simon.

Clary gripped her knife tight and raced to Simon. She yelled, feeling the sound rip through her throat as she jumped onto the demon. Plunging the blade deep in the creature's eye sockets, brackish fluid gushed onto Clary's hands and made the handle of her seraph blade slippery. The demon gurgled, its blood bubbled in time with its death rattle. It stopped moving and Clary gasped when she felt the beast go still beneath her. She had trouble looking at Simon, and she flinched when she saw the blood smeared all over his face. His eyes were still fierce and she resisted the urge to back away, but the words that came out of her surprised her with the ease in which they came out.

"Jace." She rasped.

Simon frowned. "Huh?"

"We have to get to him-he is with Valentine. I know it."

SPNTMI

Jo raised the rifle higher, just looking at the Enochian scrawl on the barrel was making her eyes swim, and she shot at another demon…ancient thing. It squealed as blood and black gunk spewed out of the gaping wound. In front of her Isabelle was shrieking like a harpy, her whip lashing through the throngs of troll- like ancients that had dripping tusks of venom, and they were flanked by centipede-like demons who had fangs growing out of the tops of their skulls like antlers, and they gave off a horrible reek. The centipede ancients chittered angrily, their pinchers scissoring together rapidly. Isabelle swung the whip high over her head, letting it slice the scabbed flesh of the monsters, grinning even when the blood splattered onto her clothes and in her hair. Jo covered her, and her hair whipped forward as one of Alec's arrows shot past her and sunk deep into the folds on a centipede's neck. Alec had already used five of his arrows; it wouldn't be long before he had to use a shorter ranged weapon. One ancient with webbed hands bounded forward on four legs, its face was a combination of piranha and parrot. It lumbered awkwardly because its hind legs were longer than its front. It hissed at Jo, it almost went cross-eyed with its four, bulbous yellow eyes. She raised the gun higher, ignoring Alec's shout. Jo understood what he had said in the back of her mind: he wanted her to take a shot at a less vital part while he took it down.

Jo's ears pricked at the sound of the bow being drawn back; amazed she could hear it and the twang of the taunt bowstring releasing its arrow just as she pushed down on the trigger. The creature howled as Jo's bullet hit its hands, blowing a wide hole in the center and the ancient reared, bellowing in pain when the arrow lodged itself in the face. Its mouth opened wide, blood filling its maw as its teeth clacked together in agitation. The ancient reared back and collapsed on top of a centipede ancient, impaling itself of the jagged glass like teeth of the other creature. The two ancients thrashed together creating a screeching whirligig as they cut a path through the swarm of ancients. The crowed rippled again as something began to move forward to them. Isabelle's whip flicked towards it as if guided by instinct. There was no cry of response, but the whip vibrated with tension, taunt and it thrummed with music as if it was a harp string. It was being held by someone with a powerful grip. Isabelle growled as she tried to yank her whip back and there was a tug in response. Laughter rang out amidst the snarling.

The whip suddenly slackened as whoever was holding it strode forward. A woman with dark hair held onto the tail end of the whip, waving it at Isabelle. Her dark purple leather jacket brought out the gold of Isabelle's whip as it coiled around the leather of her jacket. She gave the glittering whip a long glance as she pursed her plump pink lips in a mock pout. Turning her head to Isabelle, her eyes seems to flick over, like beetle shifting its wings and her eyes became jet black.

"Awww is the widdle Nephwilim mad that I took away its toy?"

"Bitch." Isabelle snarled.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say your name's Meg." Jo said.

"I'm flattered you'd notice little ol' me." Meg replied.

Jo's lip curled, and she was about to shoot but Alec beat her to it. Meg didn't seem the least bit surprised and sidestepped the arrow, which struck thin air. Dark splotches of blood spattered into the air as yelps echoed around them. Alec glared at the spot, another arrow already notched in place. Jo realized that he could see them.

"Hellhounds." Jo shouted.

"Figures." Alec grimaced.

Meg just laughed. She pulled the whip tighter to her and Isabelle stumbled forward, unable to hold her ground. With a deft turn of her wrist, Meg pulled Isabelle into a tightly woven embrace. Alec shouted as Meg tugged hard on Isabelle's hair. Without taking her eyes off of Isabelle, Meg whistled a sharp high note. Alec wasn't fast enough as the hellhound tackled him. He raised his bow as though to use it as a shield, but there was a thick snarling as the wood of the bow began to creak from the weight of the hellhound's jaws that Jo knew to be gripping the bow.

"Shoot!" Alec shouted.

Meg removed her crushing grip out of Isabelle's scalp and raised her hand. Jo's rifle was yanked out of her hands and she was suddenly lifted up into the air. She was hanging suspended, and she remembered feeling this way at the Dumort as vampires hauled her body around. The chill of the air burned in her lungs and she was pulled downwards, the wind screaming in her ears, making her vision blur. Jo slammed back down onto the metal of the ship's deck and she wheezed, feeling the shock send spasms throughout her body. She tried to lift her head, but the strain threatened to make her black out. Somewhere above her Meg laughed. Jo struggled to move and a sudden stench of rotting bodies and wet heat forced her back down as she felt the weight of huge paws settle onto her chest. Jo stiffened as the breath of a hellhound swirled around her face and made her hair flutter and stick to her skin. Her hand groped for the shotgun as she tried to look for Alec and Isabelle, but a mighty snap told her the hellhound managed to crack Alec's bow in half, and Isabelle's shriek made Jo wince. The sharp twang of knife came out fast and hit flesh, tearing out chunks that splashed onto the deck as a high pitch keening of pain told Jo that Alec managed to wound one of the hounds.

Alec's sudden scream deafened Jo, and when she tried to leap up, sharp claws dug into her shoulders and legs. Heat trembled in her body where the claws were digging deeper inside her, and the quick wetness that began to ooze out was making her panic. She yelled, her arm still struggling to get the gun, but her own cries were drowned out by Isabelle's cursing at Meg, who was raining down blow after blow on the tied up Isabelle.

"NO! Come at me you ugly bitch!"

Shots rang out and with a high pitched yelp of pain and Jo felt hot blood spray onto her as she felt the weight of the hellhound disappear, but it was the angry words that Jo was happy to hear. Jo scrambled to her feet as more shots rang out. Jo turned to Ellen with grin that her mother reluctantly returned as she tossed Jo her rifle. Another burst of screaming pain was revealed in Meg as she pulled a dagger from her shoulder, her black eyes narrowed in rage. Isabelle twisted herself free, her whip surging to life to punish Meg with blazing lashes, and as soon as she tore herself away from the demon someone else was suddenly there.

"Jace!" Isabelle cried.

He didn't spare her glance instead he studied Meg, and there was something in his eyes that made the rest of the air crackle with danger. He sneered at the sight of Meg covered in deep gashes and her ripped jacket, and disheveled hair.

"So you're a demon huh? I gotta say, not as threatening as I hoped." Jace sneered.

"Oh I just might surprise you stud." Meg said.

Alec glanced between the two warily, his knife bloody and he flanked his sister, who raised her whip and began to whirl it above her head like a lasso. Jo and Ellen raised their shotguns again and the five began to circle Meg, who now looked tense. The floor trembled with the weight of the hellhounds as deep grooves began to appear in the metal as their claws dug into the surface of the ship.

"Listen…." Jace began.

"No." said Alec. "Just go."

"Alec!" cried Isabelle.

"No, we can talk about that later." Alec stated. He finally looked at Jace. "Just go after Valentine."

Jace stared at Alec, swallowing convulsively as he seemed to struggle to say something before finally nodding. He glared at Ellen and Jo with a fierceness that was startling, but Ellen recognized what it was and she didn't hesitate to look Jace in the eyes.

"Go, we'll take care of this."

Jace stared at her a moment longer before giving her a tight smile. "Try not to die mundane."

"Get outta here already."

Jace raced past them, shouting a war cry as he brandished a large blade and disappeared into the fray. Meg threw her head back and laughed.

"So was that it?"

"Not quite." Alec said.

"Well then show me what you got."

Isabelle's whip shot out of its revolution to catch Meg in the legs, tripping her up. Meg watched as her feet tangled in the deadly strand. She lifted one foot just as Alec rushed forward, dagger in hand. Meg stomped on Isabelle's whip, pinning it beneath her boot. Before Isabelle could tug the whip out of Meg's grasp, Jo and Ellen shot simultaneously, blowing holes throughout the demon's borrowed body. Meg stumbled backwards, her grip on the whip slackening. Her look of rage strengthened as Alec crashed into her and pinned her in between his arms. He stabbed her in the shoulder, boring into her. She laughed again, her voice carrying over the screams of the other shadowhunters.

"Do that again." She crooned at Alec.

She pulled him close and as soon as she did, Isabelle's whip moved, almost of its own accord and to track with the human eye, but Meg wasn't human, and she grabbed the whip again in one fluid motion. The demon pulled the whip to her and Isabelle stumbled, unable to control her violent motions that brought her straight to Meg in a matter of seconds. Isabelle collapsed against Meg, who spun the whip around Isabelle, and the gold of the wire strained against the shadowhunter's flesh, keeping her bound next to Meg. Isabelle hissed in pain as the wire cut deeper and thin red lines appeared on her skin. Her mouth was made into a grim slash as a strand of wire cut into her lip.

With one hand, Meg managed to keep a tight grip for the whip while she gripped Isabelle by the waist. Alec held onto to Meg, his dagger still embedded in Meg's shoulder and seemed unable to be moved by Alec's strength. The demon laughed, its black eyes flashed as the Lightwood siblings struggled to get out of its grip. Meg was sandwiched between the two of them, but was in control. Jo and Ellen looked on warily as a dozen strands of wire wrapped around Isabelle's neck.

"Demon-"Isabelle rasped.

"Yup. I'm the real thing." Meg whispered.

Meg nuzzled Isabelle's black hair, the strands catching the moonlight, glaring at them like magic next to the gleaming golden whip and the stars above. Meg leaned her head over to Alec, whispering something in his ear; he blinked rapidly as her breath made his eyelashes flutter in irritation. She suddenly poked her tongue out and let it hang out, running it down the side of Alec's face. He flushed and shouted at her.

Jo began to incant Latin, and Meg choked as he head started to shake, lips vibrating. It looked like she was holding back from vomiting and Meg threw her head back. However, Meg started speaking. Her tongue bulged and curled around the black words. They were deep, as if scraped out from the bottom of a well. Meg's lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing bright pink gums and gleaming teeth. Rasping an incantation, Meg's hair fluttered against her cheeks. In a language that had probably been dead for centuries, crude, cruel, and ancient. The incantation warbled in her throat, vibrating like a fiery rocket engine warming up. Meg shook all over, teeth chattering as she continued and her eyes had a stained look to them. Her head snapped back forward with an audible click, her mouth now relaxed and pliant and she smiled.

"Sorry, guess you're stuck with me."

"We'll see." Alec snarled.

Meg grinned and then pursed her lips at Alec, who began to speak in Latin as he tried to drive the dagger in deeper. The blade was painful to her, her screams rioting off the walls and she managed to speak again as her Latin drowned out Alec's incantations. There were shrieks in response to Meg's voice. A dozen or so ancients began to converge to Meg, swarming around the hunters and the lightwoods. Isabelle's eyes glimmered with fury as Meg backed up against the railing of the ship and having no choice but to follow. The ancients that surrounded them hooted and howled, screeched, and snarled and Meg nodded her head at them.

Two things happened in rapid succession. A large ancient that resembled a monkey with webbed limbs leaped for the three of them, completely passing Ellen and Jo, even after the two women shot at the creature. Alec reacted faster than Isabelle was able to, and he let go of the knife, and simultaneously grabbed the wire from Meg's grasp and shoved Isabelle away from Meg. Alec grunted from the effort, the other end of the whip wriggling in his grasp. Isabelle stumbled forward, still more or less tangled in her own whip. The whip loosened wetly from her neck, making a squelching cutting noise. Isabelle fell into a heap, blood spurting down her neck, deep cuts staining her whip. Her blood pooled on the deck and the harder she tried to breathe, the deeper the wounds on her neck became. Alec shouted in alarm as more ancients ran to Isabelle, mouths open with their dripping fangs and tusks. Alec shoved Meg before she could move, but Meg gripped Alec's arm tight as she stumbled backwards and tumbled over the railing, taking Alec with her.

SPNTMI

Sam lifted his knife higher and threw it in a wide arc, where it sailed forward and sank deep into the oozing flesh of an ancient. Its boneless body sunk to the ground, its zipper-like serrated teeth gnashing in pain as it was pinned to the deck by the large knife. Luke was half changed his face in a rictus of fang and fur. Huge, erect ears pushed past his hair, and his eyes flashed gold. It made a part of Sam shiver in revulsion, but he was just glad Luke was on their side. The older man's hands' nails extended into claws that slashed wickedly at the advancing ancients. Sam watched as Dean shot off a few rounds into an ancient. His heart pounded as one got too close to his brother, but was relieved when the creature eventually lay sprawled at Dean's feet.

Luke tossed a dagger to Sam, who nodded in thanks and brought the jagged blade down on in incoming ancient. Blood and brackish fluid spurted out over the wound. A sudden clanging noise made them both look up. Pair of Oni ancients was climbing up the side of the deck. The entrance to the lower decks was elevated on the outside; the heavy door leading to the stairway was corroded from the sprays of poison that came from other ancients. The stairs were stainless steel and the farther down, the more covered in shadows they were. Sam shouted for Dean, who was reloading at rapid speed. Dean raced to his brother and Luke, only to be blocked by an ancient that was resembled a komodo dragon with a rat's teeth. It reared up on its hind legs and waved its scaly hands, which tapered into long clacking claws. It chased after Dean, whose' aimed veered as he moved, and as the shot missed it, it lowered its head and revealed its spindly teeth and forked tongue.

"Duck!" Luke snarled.

Dean's eyes widened as he realized what Luke was about to do. He ducked a split second before Luke raised his arm and threw the knife. It whistled in the air above Dean's head and it landed right between the colorless eyes of the ancient. It collapsed at Dean's feet, and he shot off a few more rounds that thankfully hit a few ancients that screamed in pain at the sudden shots. Dean crouched down to the dead ancient and pulled the knife out of it in one swift motion. He was at Sam and Luke's side in seconds. Dean nodded his thanks at Luke and gave him back the knife.

"Ok, Ellen is back on the other side, covering Jo, Alec, and Isabelle. Where is Valentine?" he asked.

"Probably down below deck." Luke looked carefully at Dean. "It will be heavily guarded."

"I figured. Do you have any idea what's guarding the sword?" Dean asked.

Luke smiled grimly. "A higher demon I imagine. Valentine probably keeps the soul-sword on his person."

"Cool." Dean grimaced. "Hold down the fort?"

"We'll hold them off as long as we can." Luke said.

"Wait-you're not going alone." Sam said.

Dean stared at Sam. "Yeah I am, I'll feel better knowing somebody has my back up here."

"Dean…"

A loud screech broke their conversation and the three of them looked up. A dozen or so winged ancients swooped down on the other end of the deck, diving into a mass of shadowhunters. The screaming was fierce and was brought on by the flash of seraph blades. One shadowhunter was lifted clear off the ground before a loud crunching noise and the lower half of the shadowhunter collapsed onto the deck, becoming food as small ancients swarmed over it and began to devour it. Luke could have sworn he heard Maryse's war cry.

"Go." Luke said. "We'll take of this."

"Dean-"

Luke grabbed Dean's shoulder. "Trust us. Please."

Dean glared at Luke for a moment before turning his gaze to Sam. Looking his brother in the eye, he shifted his stance and crouched next to Sam. The two didn't speak and Luke pulled back, warily watching the sky.

"Sam-" Dean began.

The clattering of hooves on the metal deck interrupted them. It was a skeleton riding atop a decaying horse, its rider brandishing a rusty double bladed ax. It raised its weapon, galloping towards them. Sam shoved Dean down the stairs, his brother just managing to grab the railing to keep himself from tumbling down into the stairwell. The skeleton ancient charged at Sam and Luke, its horse hearing and the hooves of the dead creature waving madly, nearly striking Sam with its metal shoes waggle. The blackened metal revealed the loose rusted nails that jutted out of the shoes and the horse plunged.

"SAM!"

Dean ran back up to Sam and Luke. Sam grabbed his gun just as the horse was about to bludgeon him, Sam shot the horse in the center of its hoof, right below its shoe and lodging the bullet right in the tendersest part of the foot. The horse bellowed in pain staggering back on its hind legs and its rider's skull clacked dangerously, nearly loosing balance. The horse tried to put its weight on the injured hoof, before bringing back up with a sharp whinny. The skeleton raised it ax yet again as the horse staggered back against the doorway to the lower decks, blocking Dean. The flanks of the horse smelled awful, briefly bumping into Dean before falling against the metal doorway, its thick skin scraping and falling away on the door's hinges. This unbalanced the steed as it crashed into the door, its weight causing the door to slam back into its frame. This pushed Dean back as the door slammed in his face and the last thing he head was Sam shout his name.

The horse bared its teeth as it leaned against the now shut door, struggling to stand as the skeleton clacked and whined. It kicked its heels into the bruised sides of its steed. Rushing forward, the horse's block teeth sank into Luke's leg. The man shouted, his pointed teeth gleamed brightly and he snarled viciously. When Luke took a swipe at the horse, his hand was larger and hairier than before, claws jagged and distended as they raked across the horse's face and caught on one of its bloated eyes. The filmy eye popped like a grape, the horse jerking upwards as its head swung manically back and forth. Foam spewed out of its mouth, blood pouring from its ruined eye socket. Luke began to rush forward, snarling. The horse raised one forelock and struck it down onto Luke's knee; the crack was gut wrenching but ultimately drowned out by Luke's shouts of pain, which intensified when the horse collapsed on top of Luke. It whinnied pitifully as its rider untangled himself from its position and it began to climb over the horse to get to Luke, raising its ax and readying itself to plunge it into Luke's skull.

Luke was pinned underneath the still thrashing horse and he groaned from the added weight of the skeleton moving across the horse. Luke yelled as Sam shot the skeleton, the bullet lodging into the skeleton's ribs, making it stumble backwards, its ax tumbling out of its knobby hands and bouncing and scraping against the horse before clattering onto the deck by Sam's feet. Sam grabbed the ax just as Luke's claws shot through the roof of the horse's mouth and the skeleton began to reach for Luke. The horse slumped, finally dead and its tongue lolled in Luke's face, having nowhere else to go as the top half of its face had blown off from Luke's claws. Blood and chunks of flesh littered Luke with the remnants of the horse's jaws.

Sam pitched forward, ax raised high above his head and he brought it down, right down the center of the skeleton's skull. With an alarming crack, the skull splintered right down the middle, the teeth of the skull exploding out in all directions stopping the skeleton in mid grin. Headless, the skeleton fell back on its knees before sliding forwards onto the deck. Its bones broke apart when it hit the metal of the deck clattering before disappearing. Panting, Sam crouched down beside Luke, and began pushing the horse. The horse was taking longer to disintegrate. Sam turned to Luke.

"You ok down there?"

Luke grunted. "I think my leg is broken, I know my knee's shot."

"Ok then, hold still."

Sam threw his weight into it, pushing the horse away from Luke. Sam strained to move it, flexing his shoulders as the horse finally gave. It rolled sideways, its legs falling in on themselves as the horse rolled over on its back and onto its side, leaving a trail of dark slime as it did so. It fell with a thump, bits of flesh and globs of pus wobbled like jello when it hit the deck. It oozed blood and something inky black before disappearing.

Luke attempted to stand, but with a growl of pain, he slumped back down. With Sam's help, he hobbled to one side of the door and slumped back down, his face pale and tight lines were visible. Wordlessly, Sam handed him the ax and slumped down himself. Luke watched Sam reload his gun. The two continued to stay silent as the shouts of battle rang across the deck.

SNPTMI

Clary and Simon raced to one end of the deck, leaping away from the hordes of ancients that were in a frenzy to attack. Faces of other shadowhunters blurred around her, she thought she recognized some of them. However, there was a lone fighter in the center of a group of ancients and was one that Clary recognized by the rumpled trench coat that was billowing from the swift movements of its wearer. An ancient darted forward, aiming for the back.

"Cas behind you!" Clary shouted.

Cas whirled around and slashed downwards with his blade, catching the ancient in mid leap. The creature shrieked in pain as the blade pierced right in the center of its body. It disappeared quickly, crumpling in on itself. More of the same ancient surrounded Cas. They were spiders, but their pincers were numerous, clinging on their spindly legs, beads of dark liquid gathering at the tips. From their eye sockets, there were fangs. A sudden jet of steaming liquid squirted out from one of the spider's eyes. Cas veered to the side, the jet of liquid splattering his trench coat. It quickly burned a hole through the fabric with an angry hiss. Cas's eyes narrowed, and when he spared Clary a glance, he nodded at her. Gripping his blade tight, he threw it like a javelin and impaled the spider ancient. It squealed briefly, pinned to the deck before shuddering into nonexistence.

Clary and Simon moved into action. Clary's stele in one hand and a dagger in the other and Simon snarled as one spider ancient leapt for him, and he dodged it. The two immediately were at Cas's side. The spider ancients scuttled warily around the three of them. A large thump made the three of them look up. With a sick thudding in her stomach, Clary instantly recognized the new arrival as a Ravener. Its cluster of eyes that rested on the dome of its skull was wildly rolling around, and its many legs were agile. The Ravener was above them, on the flat edge of a metal hanging above them, which seemed to lead to an elevated entrance to a stairway, but Clary wasn't sure. She concentrated on the Ravener's movements; its limbs were thick and scaly, and numerous. Its mouth dropped open revealing its pointed teeth, and its black tongue, which licked the edges of its fangs, as if in anticipation. Drool hung out of its snout in long strings, taking a long time to drip down onto the deck and pool onto the ground. Its spiked tail whipped back and forth excitedly, like dog eagerly waiting for its food. It gurgled and Clary shuddered at the memory of its voice.

"So hungry." It moaned. "…angel flesh is best…"

Clary was aware of Cas's sharp reply, and felt more than saw him face the creature. Clary shuddered and a spider ancient skittered across the deck, zigzagging as did so and leapt high. Its pincers shone with venom, fangs erect as it dove for Simon's face. Before he could react, Cas's hand shot out, grabbing the spider midair. It squealed, legs waggling and its eyes swiveled in its sockets and spayed a jet of acid onto Cas's hand. The angel winced, crushing the spider even as the acid burned his hand, angry welts rapidly forming and a sizzling accompanied the steam that was rising. Cas threw the spider into the crowd, bowling over the odd dozen that had encircled them.

Chittering angrily, five spiders dashed forward and leapt for Simon. Without thinking, Clary stepped in front of him, throwing her arms wide open. The spiders screeched, managing to pull themselves back from fully leaping and they tumbled over themselves in their hurry to back away. Clary blinked, she tuned out Simon who was angrily shouting at her. There was a mild buzzing in her ears and a trembling in her gut. Something told her to look at her arm, and when she did the odd mark on her arm was plain as day, visible by the star's light. Clary turned her forearm in the direction of the spiders, facing it forward and in their line of sight and she walked toward them. They hissed at her, backing away quickly and gave her a wide birth. One spider darted out of the way, and sped for Simon, but when Clary shoved herself in between them; it slunk back to the other spiders, hissing angrily.

Clary turned to Simon. "Look-"

The Ravener dropped onto the deck with a thud, its legs tensing as it readied to spring. Cas planted himself in front of it as the spiders began to simultaneously spray their acid. Clary couldn't leap in between either Simon or Cas, so she ducked and kept her stele firm in her hand as she brought her arms up to shield her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cas turn to her with wide eyes and start to speak as the Ravener tackled the angel. Clary jumped back, her feet suddenly slipping and giving out beneath her as she felt nothing but empty space behind her. She screamed, feeling her arms shoot out for balance and she could see Simon run towards her, his lips forming her name but that didn't matter because she could see the metal of the deck bending and hissing where the spiders had sprayed their acid. Spiders were in the air, snapping their pincers as they rushed Simon, clinging to him like a coat, and he slipped on a still steaming patch of acid. He went down hard, the weight of his body made the deck beneath him bend even as he writhed from the burns that were forming on his body.

She wanted to run to him, but her legs wouldn't listen to her as they tried to get back onto solid ground, her foot scraped at the corroded metal, her balance still shaky as she tried to get out of the ever growing hole of the acid eaten deck. It was too large for her to cross as her legs miscalculated her steps and tangled themselves up. Her stomach jumped up to her throat and pushed back her screams as she fell back, her hands slippery with sweat, and she watched, unable to do anything as her vision tunneled, focusing on her stele, which flew out of her grasp. Clary fell through the hole, watching as her beloved stele cartwheeled in the air above her, backlit by the stars.

SPNTMI

Alec felt the metal digging into his back and panicked. He sat up, ignoring the sudden pounding in his protesting body. A hand pushed him back down. It was gentle and warm. Alec's eyes swam and he had to wait for his vision to clear. He was aware of his chest heaving up and down, and it took him a moment to realize that the shallow rasp was his breathing. Alec flushed and tried to get himself under control. Slowly sitting up, he coughed and was surprised by the way it made his head spin. Magnus was sitting across from him, looking as disheveled as Alec had ever seen him. The warlock was pale and shaking, and he was drenched, his black hair plastered to him. He looked as if he would pass out at any given moment.

Alec eyed him carefully, meeting Magnus's gold eyes and felt the familiar rippling in his gut, but this time his mind didn't tell him to look away, nor did he feel the usual burn of shame as he met the other man's eyes. Alec felt as though he could simply sit here and hold onto the moment, feeling oddly calm. The truck lurched from the rocking of the Hudson. Alec stiffened, remembering why a truck would be idling in a river.

"What happened? I need you to heal me so I can get back on the ship. There's a battle." He said in a voice sharper than he intended.

Magnus sighed. "You're welcome."

"Excuse me?"

"You fell overboard. I had to let the barrier down so I could get near you. When I pulled you back here, you weren't breathing." Magnus sounded weary.

Alec squirmed. "Well…you didn't have to do that."

Alec felt vaguely upset when he said this, as it seemed inappropriate. A voice in his mind cautioned him and he was aware that he was being rude, but he couldn't afford time for pleasantries while a battle raged only a few feet away from him. He also felt the sudden swell of anger at Magnus for making him feel as though he needed to make amendments to his code, to the law, to the need to rectify the situation he was being put in. This wasn't fair. Magnus's eyes flashed, and Alec could have sworn it was hurt that Magus felt before it flitted away to be replaced by anger.

"What do you want from me Alec?"

Magnus sounded so old, which Alec disliked. The warlock had no right to be acting out of character at a time like this. Nor should he look so frayed, with his eyes fluttering so dangerously and so bruised looking. Magnus looked muted and bedraggled, devoid of the characteristics Alec was familiar with. It was more than Magnus's appearance that stopped Alec in his tracks. It was the question itself. A voice told Alec to exercise caution. The question was making Alec feel dizzy with its weight.

"I…" Alec choked. "Well…what do you want from me?" he asked.

Magnus sagged a bit. "A little bit of acknowledgment. I do so many things for you and your friends, yet you don't seem to know why." There was a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"Are you tired?" Alec asked.

"Yes."

Alec held out his hands, raising his palms for Magnus to take. Magnus's eyes widened. Alec looked steadily back into them, feeling himself tremble at his own offering. A small art of his mind marveled at how quickly he offered, done without thought. He was glad that Magnus did not look away, but was hurt that he had to look so surprised.

"Use my energy. That's what you need to power the barrier right? I've heard of warlocks doing this before so-"

Magnus grabbed Alec's hands, palm to palm and cutting off the rest of Alec's words as the shadowhunter's breath hitched. Alec was frightened by how at ease he felt when Magnus's hands brushed his own, at the fact that he could only marvel at the fact that a powerful warlock was pulling out his energy and he felt no fear or resentment for it. Alec could no longer look at Magnus in the face, so his gaze rested on their hands. His own hands were smaller than Magnus's and fitted there perfectly.

SPNTMI

Dean squinted in the dark, the colt grasped in his hands in the tight reassurance of an old partner. His feet were solid as they slowly descended down the stairs. The sounds of the battle were muffled from the thick metal door, and he was pretty sure Sam hadn't heard him pounding on it or his shouts. So he continued downwards, the chilly air making his breath cloud. He stopped, listening for movement as he fished a small flashlight out of his pocket. Clicking it on, a small, but powerful beam of light leaped to life and he raised it higher.

The interior of the ship was very industrial. Catwalks that were supported by beams or hanging by chains competed for space with the ladders that led up or down to large doorways crafted out of thick metal, some had steel doors blocking entry. Dean peeked into the open spaces and saw nothing but cluttered machinery, which looked as if they haven't been used in a long time. The antiseptic look of empty metal corridors that seemed to lead on forever or to another entry to a dead end was putting Dean on edge. He didn't even know how far he went, it all looked the same. The only thing that clued him into the fact that there was life down here was the smell. The faint stench of iron made his lip curl. It wouldn't matter how clean a place could be, Dean would always smell the blood. He went in the direction it was coming from and he slowed when he glimpsed shadow on the wall, his heart pounded. The farther he went in, the colder the air got, until his hair stood on end and he could feel his goose bumps through his jacket.

His flashlight chased the shadows, casting erratic beams and at each one he jumped. Dean grimaced as his unease mounted to ridiculous levels. The cold was pressing his ribs together and he massaged his chest to loosen it and the deja'vu hit him in full force. He hadn't been this scared since…

"Hello Dean."

Dean spun around, raising the colt higher. He grunted in a pain as his chest thudded at the sight. Sam was standing before him in a pristine white suit. He was even carrying a rose with him, clutched loosely in his hand, his fingers gently massaging the petals. Dean gasped.

"Son of a bitch."

Dean watched the not Sam smile as he squinted his eyes and tried to raise the colt higher. It was hard to breathe and spots were starting to blot his vision. He growled, feeling the noise rumbled up and tear at his throat, hurting as if he had just drunk battery acid. His legs were beginning to shake, and he ignored the voice that was screaming at him to run, that this wasn't what he thought it was. All the same, he struggled to speak.

"Lucifer." He spat.

It laughed. "You flatter me with the comparison." Its eyes flashed angrily.

Dean laughed. "Don't be. I bet you're fugly in real life."

It looked amused. "I'm surprised. You're a mundane and yet you think you're a threat to me?" It laughed.

"I am." Dean smirked. "So you must be…an ancient, the one guarding Valentine's hidey hole."

"How very astute of you."

"It's been said before." Dean tried to shrug.

"Of course, that won't get you very far mundane. You're running out of steam. You can't win against the demon of fear. "

At this, Dean swayed and hit the wall, gasping at the cold that slammed into his bones and caused him to shake all over. When he tried to stand up straight, sharp stabbing pains went into his chest like searing lightening that made him double over. Dean groaned when he found out that he was unable to straighten out. His eyes widened, he couldn't get in a full lungful of air and his panting was getting shorter and faster. His hands were getting clammy; it was hard to grip the colt and the flashlight. The light was waving erratically, racing from one point to another like a demented spotlight. His mouth felt stuffed with pennies.

"You'd be surprised."

Dean was surprised by the effort it took to speak. It left him dizzy and now he had to concentrate to hear what it was saying. When it moved closer to him, his lips pulled back, soundlessly snarling at the thing. His heart squeezed at their proximity. It smelled like carnage and when it smiled, Dean could have sworn he saw a mouth full of blood. There was no trace of sulfur, but it was too familiar and Dean struggled to move as his gasps became softer. The tiny voice in the back of his mind was urging him to leave.

"And you'd be surprised how astute I am. For example, I know Lucifer will get his way. He is quite a determined fellow once you get to know him."

It leaned down even further, Sam's hair was brushing Dean's ear. He shivered so hard, he thought his muscles might jump out of his skin. It was wearing his brother's face and the coldness in the eyes was so jarring, Dean felt the sweat break out on his skin.

"I also know Lucifer will be pleased when Sam Winchester will be brought to him like gift, and there won't be a thing you can about it."

"I'm gonna kill you." Dean finally ground out.

"Oh?"

Dean wanted to say 'I won't die by Satan's whipping boy, you stupid little bitch', or 'damn straight asshole', but his throat was clenching tight, making tight clicking noises instead. He dropped the flashlight, the light rolling away and finally hitting a wall, lighting it up and throwing up light at nothing, while Dean and the ancient were cast into shadow. Dean's knees brought him lower to the ground and his arms shook, the colt suddenly weighing much more that it should. He used his other hand to hold up his gun arm, feeling sluggish as he did so, as though his bones had been replaced by rubber. His palm weakly clutching at his elbow, and he raised the gun higher. His trigger finger was turning purple. It was practically standing above him, smiling serenely down on him. Dean's stomach churned, stirred up by rage as he struggled to move, but as the bile and the metallic feel of acid threatened to choke him, he was damned if he was going to puke in front of a monster.

Instead he raised the colt as high as he could, his arm screaming in protest and shaking so badly, he'd be lucky he'd hit his target. Dean didn't have time to steady his hand. He could barely see and his lungs begged for air, his fingers' spasms getting more violent. He willed all his muscles to obey him as he struggled to squeeze the trigger, frustration finally winning out as his finger pressed down on the trigger with all his might. The flash from the shot flared in his eyes and he could momentarily see the surprise on its face as the bullet embedded itself dead center in the forehead.

The monster slumped down onto its knees, teetering for a moment before crashing facedown onto the metal floor. The crushing hold it had on Dean vanished and he gulped in air with huge heaving breaths. He shakily rose to his feet, head still muzzy and his vision still cloudy. Swaying, he looked down at it. At the sight of the crumpled and slowly vanishing creature, he snorted.

'Some demon he was.' He thought.

"Yeah." He rasped.

Dean's throat convulsed and he coughed, bringing up a mouthful of blood. It made his whole body hurt and that was enough to make him crumple to the ground.

SPNTMI

Simon crashed to the ground, the remaining spiders clinging to him, lessening the impact of his fall. They squealed in pain underneath him. The impact shook his whole body, making him feel as brittle as an old man. He had landed on his back and he can feel their pincers moving against his T-shirt and he shuddered in revulsion, springing up and ripping them off his body. Snarling at the final spider, which hissed at him before Simon lunged at it and cracked its body in his hands. Simon threw the dead demon on the ground, lip curling as the many legged monster. The smell of blood was overpowering and as much as Simon wanted to raise his hand to block out the smell, he stopped himself.

'Knowing Valentine, following the smell is a surefire way to find him.' He thought.

Simon raced out of the entryway, only to gape out the layout of the underbelly of the ship. Inhaling deeply, he caught the rusty stench of blood, and something else beneath it. Shrugging, Simon ran to it. He marveled at the speed his legs were taking him, the catwalk swinging beneath him and the chains that held them up jangled nastily, as if shouting slurs at him. Simon pumped his arms and swerved to grab a rung and he leapt off the catwalk to get to the ladder he wanted. For a split second, he felt like he was flying and then his hands gripped the rung tight. The catwalk swung behind him, swaying back and forth like a taunt.

Simon began to climb up the ladder and hauled himself up and over the entryway. He found himself in a room crowded with machinery. He had no idea what it was for, except that it looked too dangerous for just one person to operate. Ugly pistons had suspicious stains gathering in their creases and one large funnel looking machine had its flat top covered with a large white sheet. Simon had no desire to take a peek under it. He hurried out of the room, turning into a corridor and the strong smell it him and it mingled with the odor of chemicals, something sharp and cold, and another spicier scent. It took Simon a moment to realize the blood was ingrained in the other scents, and those scents summed up the character of a person, for he now knew the scent of a human being was mixed up in there, along with a distinct smell that he was beginning to associate with shadowhunters. It was Valentine. Simon roared and shot forward, the bland halls a blur as he ran. Rage pumped his heart, inflated his lungs, and pushed through his blood vessels.

He smelled Valentine before he saw him. The sight of the broad shouldered man caused Simon to see red. The color suddenly flashed into his vision, strong enough to stun, but Simon shook his head. His mouth was wide open, lips pulled back as far as they could go, and he felt his snarl rumble up from his throat and bellow out of his mouth like smog. Hatred was thrumming through his body, and he was energized by it. Valentine had stopped, staring at him with an expression of fond exasperation, or maybe amusement. It was a look far more condescending than even Jace could ever give. Simon could picture Maia slung over Valentine's shoulder, the same self-satisfied expression on his face.

"Bastard." He rumbled. "You killed Maia."

Valentine tapped the scabbard sheathing Maellartach.

"What of it?"

Without a second thought, Simon bellowed, charging blindly forward as his feet launched him forward at his enemy.

SPNTMI

Jace panted, unable to keep as silent as he would like. The underbelly of Valentine's ship was vast, but it was already showing signs of wear. He had passed a section where acid from the deck had eaten through, a large corroded hole, and Jace had sidestepped the still dripping acid. He had seen demons, or rather ancients racing above him, their forms eluding the full scope of his vision. He dropped his gaze, scanning the interior for stray enemies. Something glittered in is peripheral vision. It was familiar, and Jace knew its shape to be a stele. He picked it up and was flooded with a sense of familiarity.

"Clary." He whispered.

Jace quickly looked up, as if Clary would materialize in that very instance. He knew for a fact that Agramon was skulking about, along with who-knows-what-else. Jace sprinted forward, his feet remembering just as much as his mind the route to the room that kept Maia and Simon chained up. His feet flung themselves over obstacles that would cause grave injury if he miscalculated and hit one of them. Jace thought he understood fear from his time in the City of Bones, but he had underestimated the feeling. If he couldn't find Clary, he'd never forgive himself.

A loud clanging stops Jace in his tracks, and he sidestepped into a little alcove heavily bolted together, and he unsheathed his seraph blade as the sounds of many footsteps loudly passed by him. It drew his gaze upward as he realized that it was coming from above him. He recognized the steady, heavy tread as his father's, and its rhythm meant that he was in a fight. Jace's heart clenched and a sudden sick feeling had him reeling. It was a struggle just to remain upright and Jace will himself to be still. His seraph blade still held in his hand, he gripped it tight and whispered a name.

"Abrariel."

SPNTMI

Clary fell with a scream which cut off as she landed heavily onto something cold. The impact went through her, but wasn't as bad as she thought it was. What she landed on was cold and still, but not the hard flat surface of metal. Shakily sitting up, she turned round to see that he knife had clattered to the other side of the room, but she remembered that she was not able to hang onto her stele. It was probably gone forever and Clary felt the loss keenly, that another piece of her mother had been ripped away from her. She choked back a sob.

Pushing herself up, her hand pressed against a shoulder. Clary froze, and let her fingers slowly crawl over the surface she was still sitting on. She felt her fingers press into a collarbone, her body going cold. Clary's fingers fumbled for a pulse. Finding none, she screamed, leaping off and racing to the other end of the room. Swallowing convulsively, some part of her demanded to see who it was. Blinking the sweat out of her eyes, she felt her neck crack as she turned. It was Maia.

Clary felt the scream build up in her throat, knew it was rising up out from some deep part of herself, and it rattled in her mouth like so many jumbled pennies, but when the time came to release it, there was just a squeak. Maia's body was pale, the veins still standing out despite being empty and her body was rigid. Her look of terror bored into Clary even though Maia's wide open eyes stared at the ceiling. Her mouth was a wide slash, lips dried enough to freeze in mid snarl, and her nostrils were flared, little bits of crust gathering at the edges. The deep gash that went across her neck raised the two slices of flesh opposite of each other; the edges looked jagged, as if poorly cut, but the rest was a deep, clean slice. Clary wanted to believe them to be fake, like in the movies, the fake flesh they used for gory close ups of mutilated characters.

The wound left the slash elevated skin that was turning grey already, despite the dried blood that still desperately clung to Maia's body. Clary blinked. She could just picture that Maia would turn her head any second now, blink her eyes, close her mouth and lick her lips before grinning at Clary. The image was so strong that Clary felt a mounting terror for that to actually happen. There was a fierce knot growing in Clary's stomach as her gaze was drawn to Maia's dead eyes. The color was already muted, the whole of the eyes clouded over, the light was already gone. Clary wished so hard for Maia to blink that the knot in her stomach hardened up into her throat and she choked so hard that tears blurred her vision and her legs shook.

The vomit shoved itself out of her, the force of it prying her mouth open without her consent. Clary was so surprised she didn't even have time to protest as she buckled to the ground, her knees taking the brunt of the impact but that didn't stop the rest of her body as she threw up all she had, tears pouring out of her eyes as vomit scorched her mouth and nose. When her body was finished, Clary only had enough strength to scoot away from the mess she made. She turned her head, allowing her gaze to shift on the knife she had dropped. Seeing it filled her with disgust, and she had the errant thought that Jace would scold her for carrying such a puny knife.

Clary took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. She flexed her fingers, surprised at the pins and needles sensation that went through them as she picked up the knife and curled it into her hand. She felt light and insubstantial as she stood up and pushed her mind away from what was lying behind her as she wobbled out of the room and into a corridor. Clary's eyes darted in their sockets of their own accord and she raised the knife higher. Her whole body trembled in anticipation of attack and the sudden wrench of steel far above her made her shout and race away, trying to see what made the noise. Whatever was happening up on the deck had made the whole ship tremble and Clary hurried forward as if sky would fall at any minute.

She slowed to a walk, noticing a small ridge of steel that swelled away from the rest of the wall, and it seemed to lead to another corridor. Clary wondered if it led to the catwalk that was swaying above her. Something rustled in the alcove, and it was more out of instinct than sound that told her something living was just around the corner. Clary trembled as she raised her knife higher, briefly closing her eyes in preparation. She shifted her stance, tensing her body into silence as she twisted her body. Clary suddenly whirled, moving faster than she thought possible and bringing her knife plunging downwards. It whooshed in the air, as she felt the electric buzz of energy of another blade go past her, but suddenly pull up and hover by her face.

"Clary?"

Clary blinked, everything came back into focus and she saw Jace staring back at her, their weapons inches apart, even though Jace had pulled his weapon back and was lowering his arm. He peered into her face and slowly grabbed her arm. Clary flinched in shock, and she recoiled from Jace's hurt but sympathetic expression. Jace pried the knife from her fingers and eyed it critically and turned to Clary.

"What did you think you were going to do with this?"

It was so close to what Clary pictured what he would say about her knife given the chance that she laughed. It filled her up, almost painfully as she burst with it, doubling over and when she looked at his surprised look, she collapsed into fresh giggles. It was so absurd, so out of place that it was somehow funny.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I found Maia." She blurted out.

Jace blanched. "How is that funny?"

Clary sobered instantly. "It isn't…it's just…I'll explain it later."

Jace nodded, and then began to speak. "Listen I-"

A sudden scream stopped them in their tracks, and Clary only just then realized that she and Jace had moved forward to each other, and she quickly stepped back another pace. Terror seized her; she'd recognize that voice from anywhere.

"Simon." She breathed.

Jace looked at her sharply, and when she met his eyes again, she'd didn't see surprise. Suspicion rose up in her against her will, and she clenched her fist hard to make it disappear. She recalled Simon's words and resisted the idea to hit him, despite everything. Jace wordlessly handed back her knife, and Clary felt she owed it to Simon to look Jace in the eye.

"Where?" she asked.

Jace frowned. "Sounded like it was in front of us, probably only a couple of hundred feet ahead."

Clary didn't need to hear another word. She sprinted down the hall, Jace easily catching up to her, and Clary saw his seraph blade shining and she wished she had brought her own. She knew they were running back the way she came, and with a sinking feeling she knew which room they had to get to.

"Simon!" she shouted.

She dashed into the room, and this time she did scream. Simon was lying on the ground in a messy sprawl, the gash on his throat and wrists fresh and sore. Clary's knife clattered on the ground, it was the only sound she heard, her screams only intensifying when Jace grabbed a hold of her shoulders and murmured things in her ear, but she didn't know what they were. Even Jace didn't have enough strength to keep her from Simon, and Clary knelt down beside him. She felt the keening rise up in her chest, the familiar whine and thrum of agony resonating inside her. Slowly she felt her head sink down onto Simon's chest as if she was pushing herself underwater.

Jace was kneeling across from her, his fingers about Simon's neck and she was too tired to scream at him that it was too late for that, but his eyes widened and he looked up sharply at Clary.

"Clary."

When she didn't reply, she felt Jace's strong hands grab her shoulders and force her gaze to his.

"Clary, he's still alive. There is a pulse. Its faint, but it's there. Clary Simon is alive."

"What?"

"Listen."

Clary and Jace put their heads together, and Clary's ear hovered over Simon's mouth. Tiny warm air tickled her ear, the warmth vibrating into her eardrums. Now the faint rattle of inhalation could be heard. Clary's head jerked up and she realized Jace had been waiting for her to move so he could continue.

"Vampires are a bit like cars, they run on blood the same way that oil is needed for a car to function. Clary, all he needs is blood."

Before she could reply, Jace picked up his knife and slid the blade against his wrist. She couldn't help the little gasp that came out of her as she saw Jace's blood run parallel to the knife's blade and slide down his forearm. Leaning over, Jace held his bleeding wrist over Simon's mouth, letting it hover inches above Simon's lips. Droplets of blood pattered over Simon's lips, the only color on his face. There was no response, and Clary just barely stopped herself from screaming.

"C'om on drink." Jace urged.

Jace angrily pressed his wrist against Simon's mouth, managing to pry open Simon's unresponsive lips with just a quick jiggle of his wrist. Jace shook his wrist inside Simon's mouth with a slight growl. Simon's lips twitched and finally pursed. There was a tiny nicking sound of skin being scraped, and from Jace's reflexive wince, Simon had just bit down on Jace's wrist. Clary flinched from the gentle sucking and gulping sounds, but couldn't tear her eyes away when Simon's hands shakily rose up and felt for Jace's arm. Jace made no protest as Simon gripped Jace's arm and pressed it hard to his mouth. Simon's eyelids fluttered as if he was merely in REM sleep, still too deep in dreamland to fully awaken.

Clary watched transfixed as Simons expression began to get more fierce, eyebrows furrowing and a sudden grunt made her jump. Jace was watching the change with impassive eyes, and Clary flinched but didn't look away when Jace leveled his gaze to hers. The gold of his eyes looked strangely mellow, almost protective, but she couldn't understand why it made an earthquake in her body. Simon suddenly growled, moving as if in sleepwalk, his hands going up to Jace's shoulders. Jace grunted, so Clary assumed Simon's grip was strong.

Simon pulled himself away from Jace's wrist, his eyes hanging at a sleepy half-mast. Clary suddenly flashed back to when she and Simon were little kids, back when they still had sleepovers and they'd wake up early for the Saturday morning cartoons, still rubbing their eyes even as they hurried to grab their bowls of cereal and hunt down the remote. It was the same sleepy stare that he now gave Jace. So that was why Clary shrieked in surprised when Simon sank his teeth into Jace's neck.

Clary darted forward, trying to pry them apart but she was pushed back by Simon's arm as it shot forward, catching her in the stomach. Clary made a move to try again, but Jace Spoke to her, his voice strained. Clary winched at the Simon's enthusiastic slurping noises.

"No, it's alright I-ahhh, just let him. It's only his instincts-sarrrrgh." Jace grunted. "It's telling him to go for the major arteries….ohhhhhhh. Nnnnghhg, don't try to stop him." Jace groaned.

Jace stopped wincing and his eyes fluttered. He not only let Simon pin him in place, but even pulled Simon closer to him. Jace was starting to go slack, his skin becoming dangerously pale. Clary went against Jace's advice and went to pry the two of them apart, but before she could do anything, Simon suddenly sprang back, flushed and wide eyed. He was panting, and Clary's stomach rolled when she saw the blood still inside Simon's mouth. The slash on Simon's neck was healing right before her eyes, sewing itself back up, almost as if it never happened. His skin was returning to its normal color, and Clary was overjoyed, but the fury in Simon's eyes refrained her from going to him. Simon glared at Jace.

"I could have killed you." Simon said.

Jace nodded. "I would have let you."

"Maybe I should have."

Clary tensed as the two stared at each other, not speaking. Simon's jaw was flexing as if he was indeed contemplating finishing what he started. She was rooted to the spot; both of them had already given up so much, most of it for her. Both of them caring for her in two separate ways, and she suddenly recalled why Simon spoke so carefully about trust, but between the three of them they made enough mistakes for it to not matter. Clary wondered not for the first time, which boy she was really in love with, and the answer became clear. Her heart was thudding with an odd painful joy. Both of them were alive and in her veins was the song of anger. Maia had to be avenged, but Jace's eyes still had that hunted look.

"Oh Jace, what were you thinking?" Clary asked.

Jace tore his eyes away from Simon to regard Clary. His eyes sparked. Clary was startled by the way they were going to back down, despite having a trace of desperation to them. Clary nodded to herself. He was becoming his old self again.

"I was thinking he is my father. I thought that would be enough. I was wrong." He said in clear and quiet voice.

"You killed Maia." Simon pointed out.

"I know and I'm sorry. I know now that I could never be alongside Valentine, and she paid the price for it."

"So let's put an end to this-that'll be the only way for it to count for something." Clary said.

Clary watched as Jace and Simon stood up and the two of them extended their hands for her to take.

SPNTMI

Shadowhunters were scattered over the deck, and the smell of gasoline soaked the air as a huge barrier of metal crashed onto deck, cracking open and spilling its contents everywhere. The breeze made the stench grow stronger.

SPNTMI

Clary followed Jace farther down the hall, with Simon keeping pace behind her. Jace's eyes narrowed and he lead them to what would have been a dead end if not for the ladder that led upwards. Jace climbed that ladder, peering up and scooted back down and nodded to Simon, who sprinted down the left side down the hall they came from. Clary could just make out Simon climbing up another ladder before he jumped onto a large pipe on the ceiling before he wriggled out of sight.

Jace climbed back up the ladder and Clary hurriedly grabbed onto the rungs. She pulled herself up onto the floor. The smell was awful and it didn't take her long to realize why. Four basins stood in the center of the room, filled to the brim with blood. The first two were already so dry that the colors were more of a rusty brown, with crust clinging to the rims of the basin. The third was already discolored, the brightness fading already as it stuck to the insides of the steel basin. Strange blooming spots dotted the surface, but Clary didn't care to know what it was, and in the fourth basin was the freshest blood as well. Still a vivid red, there was a slight steam rising from it. Clary walked forward and but her hand hover over the surface and was surprised that it wasn't giving off any heat.

"Clary."

She turned to look at Jace, who had gone pale. He pointed at the table that was behind them, bundles of stained white sheets lay together on the table, and one of them obviously covered something very long underneath it. Clary didn't need Jace to tell her what this place was, she already knew. The basins were about as tall as she was, and she especially knew what was in the fourth basin. This was the room where Valentine performed the ritual, draining all the blood he ever needed. Clary walked to the benches behind the basins and with trembling fingers brushed the white sheets, flinching when she touched the spots of dried blood. The material felt course underneath her hands and taking a breath, Clary pulled the sheets back. She gasped.

The soul sword Maellartach lay there, shining with subdued menace. Clary felt her eyes tugged to it, unable to look away. There was not a drop of blood anywhere on it. Clary slowly reached for it, her fingers grasping the hilt.

"That is not meant for you."

Clary spun around to see Valentine standing before them. Jace seemed rooted to the spot, rapidly looking back and forth between Clary and Valentine. Valentine smiled as if this was a pleasant surprise.

"Clarissa, I've been meaning to see more of you and here you are."

"What?"

"I feel as if I have neglected having a hand in your upbringing."

"My upbringing's fine no thanks to you." She snapped.

Valentine sighed. "Clarissa my one regret is that Jocelyn and I did not come to get to raise you in a way befit your people. If I am to blame for one thing it is that you never grew accustomed to your brother-"

Clary grabbed the sword, gripping the handle tight and struggled to lift it. She managed to heft it, leveling it in Valentine's direction. The sword made her arms buzz and her head swim. Her ears began to ring and she could help feel a thrill of something familiar as the sword pulled her downward. Her body felt like had been plunged into ice water. Something vast was prickling at the edges of her vision. It was dark but lit up by brilliant points of light, the lines curving and broad. It was beautiful and Clary couldn't see anymore, but the strange longing persisted. She blinked as spots swam in her vision briefly before her vision completely cleared. She pointed the sword at Valentine.

"Don't talk to me about Jace."

"I simply meant that there are certainly some things I should have foreseen since you have been raised apart, something that no sibling deserves."

"You did me a favor by not raising me." Clary snapped. "My mother was overjoyed that you were out of her life."

"Clarissa… "

Valentine advanced. Jace moved at the same time, his hand moving for something. Clary felt a shiver of fear, the sword suddenly too heavy, and for the first time she felt uneasy holding it. Valentine was right-it wasn't meant for her. She gritted her teeth; she wasn't about to throw down a weapon at Valentine's feet, so she tried to raise it higher.

"How did you even find us?" she asked.

"I am aware of everything that goes on in my ship."

"Apparently not." said Simon.

Valentine didn't even turn around as Simon stood behind him. Clary looked up to see the ventilation shaft right above where Simon was standing. Valentine didn't appear to be fazed. He merely glanced back at Simon and then to Clary, his gaze considering.

"Hmm. Perhaps. Tell me, how is it that you are alive? I' am quite certain I drained you of all your blood." He asked.

"Not certain enough father." Jace spoke up.

Jace's voice sounded tense, almost shaky, but he held up his wrist. It was heavily bruised an ugly purple, but in the center were two red and swollen puncture marks, and surrounding them a ring of teeth marks. It stood out against the pale gold of Jace's skin. Valentine stared as if hypnotized at the sight. His jaw clenched and his eyes did not widen, but merely became colder, but was ghosted over and replaced by a serene calculation.

"My my I cannot fathom why I have such disrespectful children. If only things could go back to a much simpler time. "

With blinding speed, Valentine reached for the sword. With a scream she slashed it downwards, only to have Valentine grab the blade with his bare hand. A sliver of blood welled in his palm where the blade rested. With a sharp tug, it came out of Clary's grasp and Valentine swung the sword around so that the hilt and pommel grazed her temple. Clary stumbled back from the blow, crashing into the table and causing the white sheets to settle on her and she shoved them off her frantically. The sword swung up in a high arc and as it began to fall, Valentine seemingly plucked it out of the air, catching it by the hilt and sweeping it in Simon's direction. The point of the sword pricked Simon's Adam's apple. It only took moments for Valentine to take control of the situation.

"Jonathan it is not too late to rectify this situation. Finish what I started with this revenant and all will be forgiven."

Clary tried to control her breathing-she had no weapon, but Valentine was leveling the most powerful weapon in the room at Simon, and all he had was his teeth, but he was looking murderous enough to try them out. Jace raised his seraph blade, fixing it at Simon and as he shifted his weight he pulled a knife out of his boot. Clary recognized it as the one she had been using. He must have picked it up after she dropped it. This blade he pointed at Valentine. Jace clenched his jaw tight and his eyes were bright and brittle. Neither Valentine nor Simon moved.

Clary stood straighter, trying to get closer but as soon as she did, Jace pointed the dagger at her. She froze and he bowed his head, a vein pulsing in his temple. Valentine stared at Jace, his expression inscrutable. Clary hung on for the next words, trembling. Jace looked up, his eyes seemed to burn. He looked at Simon first with hard eyes, but when his gaze swiveled to her it all changed. It was a look full of confidence and affection. Its warmth was directed fully on her and Clary shivered. When Jace turned to regard his father, the affection was still there, but marred with wariness and disappointment. In one deft move, Jace pulled back the hand holding the dagger and held it high, waving it briefly to let them see what he was doing and dropped it to the floor.

Jace gave Valentine a sad smile. "Oh Father." His smile dropped. "His name is Simon."

Jace's hand blurred, fingers curling and then shooting out. Clary watched him toss whatever it was to her and her hands opened up almost of their own free will, the slim object falling into her hands. Clary fingered the clear glass. She didn't know why or how Jace had gotten a hold of her stele, but she didn't care. She knew what she had to do. Clary didn't bother watching as both Simon and Jace tackled Valentine, who swung the sword at them.

Clary rushed past them, ignoring the struggling that ensued. Clary didn't stop running until she was across the room and slamming her palms onto the steel of the wall. Clary was sure, her hand steady as she pushed the tip of her stele the steel hull. Clary tuned all sounds out, leaving only a buzzing sound that hummed throughout her body so strongly, like standing too close to an electric fence. The tip of her stele burned an intense white and she put in all her emotions. They roiled up in her, tumbling too fast and intense that she couldn't name them all as they poured out of her as though lightning was rippling out of her like her body was a conductor. Her head was beginning to ache, but beneath that she could hear a small voice in her mind urging her on. It could have been her own, her mother's, or perhaps someone else entirely.

Clary's hands danced over the metal surface, burning the word deep onto the hull. The movements making her arm ache, her whole body shaking and she felt the heat rise up inside. Her mouth opened and threw back her head. It was all coursing through her and going into her hand and flowing into her stele and writing the oldest language there had ever been. She chanted the word 'open' over and over again. She was writing so fast it felt like someone had taken control of her arm and sped it over the metal.

The metal burned underneath the stele, melting and charring at the edges.

'Good. Let this place burn.'

On the last piece of the word, she pressed the tip of the stele so hard that she thought it would weld itself onto the surface of the hull. With one last burst of power that flowed out of her, the hum went along with it, leaving her mind reeling but clear. As it emptied out of her, Clary was almost sad to see it go. She felt herself sway, light and odd. She turned to the three of them, now aware that they were all staring at her. Valentine was looking at her with a look of elated horror. His smile blew into something satisfied even as the wariness in his eyes became more pronounced as it morphed even further into a wide smile that looked almost Jace like, and it took her a moment to realized that it was an expression Jace wore whenever he felt self-deprecating, but Valentine looked as though he were about to laugh.

Simon exhaled loudly, but his voice was soft when he finally spoke.

"What does it say?" he asked.

"Open." Clary said.

At her words, a keening noise began to echo in the room. A tinny pop was heard and something fell onto the floor. As if rendered immobile, the three men stared at what rolled at their feet. It stopped at Jace's boot, and he bent down to pick it up. He turned over the tiny screw in his hands. Multiple popping noises made them look up, spell bound. Suddenly, screws began to fly out from all directions and they ducked as the screws hit the metal, clanging angrily. The bulkheads groaned and were accompanied by the sound of hissing water.

The room began to shudder as if it was being compressed too tightly. The metal crumpled, as if giant was punching a tin can. Simon yelled in alarm as Jace dived for the sword. Valentine swatted Jace easily aside, scooping up the sword and sheathing it.

"We have to get out of here!" Simon shouted.

"It is too late for that." Valentine said his voice oddly triumphant.

At his words, one of the large punched in sections burst, water pouring into the room. It flowed steadily in, the room beginning to tilt. The basins were overturning, the remaining blood spilling out of them. Cold seeped into her knees and Clary tilted as the whole room began to move, more water punching into the hull, the sound deeper than thunder. Beyond it, Clary could hear the cracking of pipes and the resulting spray. The booming crunch of pillars were being uprooted and the acerbic swinging of chains being pulled out of their bearings, followed by the collapsing catwalks but Clary couldn't see any farther. She was being pulled to the ever widening hole, the cold air pulling her in and tumbling over on her heels and over her head. Simon jostled into her, rolling helplessly beside her. She felt him to try to make a grab for her, and Clary only had time to pocket her stele before her fingers missed his jacket by inches. The hole loomed forward, the suction leaving her helpless. Clary saw the curling edges of the blown metal, looking as weak as paper. She caught an edge, holding on for dear life. Clary tried to shout, but only succeeded in swallowing water. The water splashed into her eyes, and the last thing she clearly saw was Jace reaching for her as her fingers slipped and she tumbled out in open water.

SPNTMI

The cold struck her like a blow as the water seared her lungs. Clary thrashed, trying to escape the pull that was taking her farther away from the surface. The water tugged her in any direction it chose, moving her like a fish on a hook. Her eyes fluttered, stinging from the water that pressed into her eyeballs and blurred her vision. Her ribcage crushed her body, boxed in from the weight of the water intent on destroying her. She clamped her lips shut, trying to blow the water out of her nose, making her head spin from the constant exhaling. Bubbles rose up to the surface; she could see their journey to the top.

The surface of the water skated over her vision, the stars peeking out and gently fading out. The voice in her mind screamed at her sluggish limbs to move faster. Her head was beginning to pound, and she swiveled as her line of sight was drawn to a sudden brightness below the churning waves. It took her a moment to realize it was fire. It was plunging into the water, taking a long time to extinguish. Smoke surrounded her and one piece of fire crashed beside her, the force of it creating a small wave that pushed her back. Clary could still feel the heat from the distance, burning her with the heat the water briefly absorbed. Smoke surrounded her, bubbles brushing against her face.

Her hands pushed the smoke out of her way, and her legs kicked feebly as more falling pieces of fire surrounded her. Clary could just barely make out a large shadow in front of her. Something was on the surface of the water and something told her to swim for it. The current was buffeting her away from it, but Clary struggled, her limbs spastically tugging outwards of the current. Another ball of flame slammed into the water, close enough that the force of its impact rocketed Clary onto a wave, pushing her upwards and her hands treaded to the surface. She could make out images on the surface, swirling up to meet her. The remaining fire behind her lit up a figure above the surface and Clary could see the long hair cascading down it, slim arms opening up. Clary kicked harder, feeling the chill of the air on her hands before much warmer slim hands grabbed her hard and pulled.

Clary's head broke the surface of the water. Taking huge gulps of air, she felt multiple hands pulling her up and when her knees hit rigid metal, she shivered all over. Her teeth hurt from their violent chattering and she swayed wiping her eyes. She was in Luke's truck bed and she was not alone. The first person who pulled her up was a woman with silver hair. Next to her was Cas, and next to him were Sam and Dean. Luke was beside Sam, and across from them Isabelle was in the middle of Alec and Jace. Magnus and Simon sat in the middle; both of them had their backs resting against the cab. Ellen and Jo were in the front, with Ellen behind the wheel and Jo slumped in the passenger seat.

Clary noticed that only Sam seemed unhurt. Alec was pressing Luke's shirt into Isabelle's neck. Sam was turned to Luke, his hands pressed on Luke's leg and from the grimace on Luke's face it was agonizing. Dean looked exhausted, his eyes moving back and forth from Sam to Cas, who was cradling his burned hand. Jace was badly bruised and his attention was on Isabelle. Magnus looked even more exhausted than Dean, and he focused on Alec, who seemed just as bruised as Jace. When Clary's eyes finally met Simon's she smiled. He didn't seem too badly hurt and he smiled readily back to her.

Clary scooted closer to him, passing the silver haired woman who touched her shoulder as Clary moved to Simon's side. She put her head on his shoulder, finally letting herself feel relief. Simon put his arm around her. His steady breathing told her it was going to be alright. A sudden blaze of fire plummeted into the water, crashing close enough to create waves and upend the truck. Clary felt another jolt of movement as Ellen put the truck into gear, but Clary wasn't paying attention to that. She looked out to the ship and the skyline.

The ship was blown halfway to pieces, the top half destroyed. Fire raged on the deck, illuminating the wreckage it was causing. Minor explosions caused fiery chucks of debris to soar into the air and land in the water or smolder on the decks of other ships. The smoke was thick and greasy, the smell of oil permeating the air. The smoke was blotting out the pink sky and Clary could no longer see the stars. The sky was lit up, the fire looking brighter, and small shafts of light pierced the smoke. Clary squinted as the sky grew paler, the colors of orange, pink, and gold as the sun began to rise.

Clary heard Simon's sharp intake of breath and she turned around to see him blanch. She slowly took in his horrified expression and then swiveled back to see the sun beginning to peek out over the horizon. Clary screamed.

"The sun!"

Jace glanced sharply at Clary and Simon. Magnus leaned over and rapped sharply on the window of the cab and spoke quickly to Ellen, who pushed on the gas. However the weight of so many people in the truck bed slowed it down. Jo opened the back window with a wince.

"What does he need?" she asked.

"Something to block the sun." Clary replied.

Sam shrugged off his jacket and gestured to Cas to take off his trench coat. Jo pulled a blanket out of the cab. Jace stared at Clary and shook his head.

"That won't work. He needs to be inside a building."

"We just have to drive faster than!" Clary cried.

"The pedal's practically touching the floor." Ellen called.

"Cover him anyway." Jo added.

The beginnings of sunlight started to break the smoke apart, the light was coming in fast. Jo shouted in alarm as Simon raised his arms and Clary shifted on top of Simon to cover him. Clary glared at the sky, not caring that she was hurting her eyes. She jumped when she felt Simon's hands on her shoulders. Simon turned Clary to face him. Simon's fingers massaged Clary's shoulders, brushing up to her collarbone, and worked his way up to her face. His hands were cool and firm, making Clary shiver under his touch. She couldn't help but gasp, her teeth chattering. His dark eyes locked onto her and she found it impossible to look away. Clary knew this was his way of saying goodbye.

"No."

"Clary listen."

"Simon-"

"No really, it'll be alright." Simon smiled. "I'm ok with it."

"But I'm not!" Clary shouted.

Simon pulled Clary close enough so that their foreheads touched. Clary blinked away the blurriness that was in her eyes and felt the hot trail slide down her face. Her heart was being pulled out of her, leaving a messy trail in her throat. The chill of the air burned in her lungs and crackled around her ribs like electricity. Simon's hands felt like the only real thing, keeping her from ripped apart. Except what would happen if he stopped holding her in place? Every part of her howled to keep him in the world, anchored in place beside her. She choked, unable to let out the strangling feeling and wrapped her arms around Simon. She felt his breath on her face, cool and fragrant with a sweet spiciness that was distinctly Simon. She breathed in, trembling with the knowledge that this was the last time she would feel it on her face, see his lips form the words, hear him talk.

"Clary, I love you."

Clary inhaled so sharply, she almost whined. She could feel something vital being ripped out of her she wished it was something else that she wanted out of her. She nodded frantically, and instead of the words she wanted to say, something else came out in its place.

"Please don't-this isn't over."

Simon continued. "And I always will and I'll never stop."

"Simon."

When she said his name, it felt like a benediction and a goodbye all at once. The sun was at her back, its warmth boring into her back, threatening to drill a hole into her spine. If sunlight had a sound, it was the heavy chime of a grandfather clock. The sunlight broke into fragments on her back, shooting past her and hitting Simon. The light illuminated every strand of hair, blanketing her skin, and lit up his eyes. There was no way of stopping the sun. Clary moaned, screwing her eyes tight, not willing to watch Simon incinerate before her eyes. She jumped when she heard Simon inhale sharply.

"Clary." He breathed.

She squinted, not wanting to see a charred Simon, but her eyes flew open. She stared. Simon was whole and intact with not a mark on him. Simon held up his hands, letting the sunlight him them and they stayed the same as they were before with nothing to mar them. Simon flexed his fingers and waved his hand, staring at them in awe before looking back at Clary with an incredulous smile. He took a shaking breath, his smile morphing into something gentler. Clary felt something inside her break and relief flooded through her, a much warmer river than the one she was floating on. Clary finally cried out, the sound indefinable, as it contained all the sounds a human being could make. She tightened her grip on Simon, wrapping her arms further around him and pressed him to her. Clary felt his arms go around her, sure and steady. His face buried in the crook of her neck, and she loved the weight of him beside her. Clary just lowered her eyes to see Simon's back, far broader than she remembered it to be and she vowed that she would pay attention to every little detail from now on. She'd always watch Simon, protect him, and look at him. Clary's focal point narrowed down to Simon and she just held him closer. She didn't care about anything but him, not even the sunrise that was probably the most beautiful she'd ever see.

TBC….