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.

8. A messenger stands tall

Disclaimer: I don't own either series, just borrowing them. I'll put em' back on the shelf I promise.

Warnings: Violence, familial conflict, and a sex scene between minors.

AN: Sorry for the false update. Technical difficulties.

Word count: 20,023

Chapter 8: A messenger stands tall.

Somewhere in a cave in the Idrisian countryside, laughter rang throughout the cave. Valentine's plan was rather clever, needing only a few adjustments. He blinked in sudden surprise, cutting off his laughter. The feeling of the one person he needed, the connection tugging at him to seek the other out. Smiling, he looked up at the stars, their beauty dulling the disgust he felt for the ancients that were filling up the sky.

SPNTMI

Isabelle looked back up at the clock. The meeting had been going on for hours, although she wasn't surprised. This was the big one: what to do with Valentine-and her brother. Isabelle hadn't been allowed to it, as minors could not go to council, but her testimony of what happened on the ship had already been taken. Now there was nothing to do but wait. Dragging her eyes across the room, she stared at the occupants. Sebastian had returned some time ago from his walk, reporting that nothing had changed. The only thing he managed to learn was that the council had gone for an extended session. Isabelle shook her head to clear her memories. Normally, she'd flirt with Sebastian so fast his pretty head would spin. She licked her lips; it was still a tempting thought, a way to pass the time. However, she willed the attraction to go away and turned her head to see Sebastian's cousin Aline.

Aline was staring out the window. The witchlight lamps from the outside gave a contented glow, soft on her body from its filtered light. She was looking absently out the window, ignoring the rest of them. Her glossy black hair shined and she was actually quite pretty, Isabelle supposed. A floorboard creaked and Isabelle turned to her little brother Max descend the stairs, rubbing his eyes.

"Izzy." His voice was thick and soft with sleep.

"What is it? You might as well try to get some sleep. Alec and Jace won't be back for a while."

Max shook his head. "I tried, but-"

A scream, sharp and long, and full of terror interrupted him. Max's eyes went wide, too startled to make a sound. Sebastian rushed into the room, a seraph blade in hand, which already had come away red. He was out of breath, starting at them in shock.

"Outside."

As if on cue, Isabelle's pendent throbbed at her throat, sending a raw pulses to her. She tensed in anticipation. "No…impossible."

"Maybe not." Aline pointed to the window.

Isabelle turned her vision tunneling as it began to pinpoint what was in the sky. Black storm clouds rolling with electricity, but they weren't clouds. They made no sound, yet she thought she heard screams of malice. They moved and it took her a moment to realize it was headed their way and moving too fast to stop. The closer it got the more it resembled smoke. Isabelle reached for a weapon, but before she could shout for Aline to get away from the windows, the other girl froze as one piece of the smoke broke away from the pack, and smashed through the window. Aline screamed as glass exploded around her, smoke slamming into her mouth, the force of it wrenching her head back as it shoved itself inside like a train entering a tunnel. The rushing wind couldn't drown out Aline's guttural vocalizations. The rest of the smoke passed overhead, shaking the house as Aline suddenly went quiet, her mouth closing. She turned and her eyes were jet black. Isabelle screamed at Max.

"Run!"

SPNTMI

Alec raced up the steps at the sound of the shouts. The council was in chaos as a crash of something heavy hit from overhead. Witchlight flickered in response and the ground shook like an earthquake. The council members began to shout, panic sinking in as the sky became black. Writhing storm clouds that moved too low and too fast to be clouds as some split from the heaving mass, breaking into windows with ease. The smoky yet solid shapes. Alec squinted hard and saw the faces beneath the substance; ugly contorted faces bared their teeth as they came down and into the mouths of unfortunate council members. The force of it pushed their head back almost to snapping point. They screamed as the smoke shoved itself down their throats. When their heads snapped back, pitch black eyes the color of tar stared back at the other shadowhunters.

"Demons." Alec whispered.

He held up his hands as half a dozen possessed members advanced on him, and the other council members defending themselves from familiar faces. Alec raised his hands higher, heart pounding as his fingers brushed his ears. In one motion he pulled out a pair of Latin inscribed knives from his shoulder holster and threw them. Each knife hit their targets, sinking into shoulders. Both hissed in pain and advanced on Alec, who unslung his bow and fired at those closest to him. He gritted his teeth, remembering the hunter's advice.

'The people they possess don't feel pain and the demon inside can't die by normal methods, I'll just end up killing the host instead. I need to exorcise them, but how do I get an opening to do that?'

Alec loosed another arrow and stopped a councilman from slaying a fellow member with his own blade.

'I can't hit a vital area and even if I did, it wouldn't kill the demon…right?'

"Alec Lightwood sound the alarm!"

"Yes. Understood. Be careful, these Shadowhunters are possessed."

The councilman's eyes widened. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. You have to exorcise them."

"Alright, now hurry."

Alec nodded and spun around and out of the corner of his eye; he saw that shadowhunter get tackled to the ground. Alec bit back a shout. As much as he wanted to stay to defend the Gard, the other Shadowhunter was right. Reinforcements were needed and Alec just had to trust that they would survive in the meantime. The council room still in chaos as Shadowhunter was against Shadowhunter as seraph blades began to light up. Alec raced down the stairs, screeches of words among the shouts.

"Hurry up and run!"

"We can't abandon the Gard."

"To hell with the Gard, our families are down there-we've got to get to them-"

"Damn Valentine, how'd he get to so many Shadowhunters?"

"Demons! Demons are attacking us!"

"Impossible!"

Another set of windows exploded. A demon, or rather, an ancient-a Yanluo demon with spindly limbs and deadly stingers dragging a screaming Shadowhunter out a broken window. The Shadowhunter plunged a brilliantly bright seraph blade into its face before he fell. Alec ran toward the creature. He shot an arrow, aiming true and hitting the creature in the face. The Yanluo screeched as dark blood spurted all over the walls. With a roar of rage the hellish beast raised itself on its hind legs, its other four legs flexing, and pincher slick with poison. Its girth was in the center of its body but it walked with ease to Alec. He readied his hands to get another arrow, but found none. Before he could grab the blade at his belt, it charged at him with a speed that even Alec had trouble keeping up with. An axe came crashing down onto the creature's back, burrowing so deep that it pierced its mid-section. Stuttering, the demon thrashed, unable to lose the axe from its body. Against its will, the axe moved, carving back and forth until the top half of its body was completely severed. It gave one last croak, black tongue bulging out of its mouth before its top half slid down, thudding to the ground. The Yanluo collapsed at the feet of Robert Lightwood.

"Dad."

Robert smiled. "Glad to have found you." He sobered. "Your mother is one level below, trying to get reinforcements. I need you to go the Penhallows' and protect your brother and sister."

"Y-yes but-"

"Alexander, we can deal with this. So please hurry."

"…Ok. Yes. I'll see you soon."

Alec's father handed him a long sword, a katana-esque blade. With a nod of thanks, Alec unsheathed it and raced down the corridor, heart pounding all the while.

SPNTMI

Isabelle moved, flipping backwards as Aline's dagger slashed through the spot Isabelle had been moments before. Aline laughed, high and cold, tar black eyes taunting her as Isabelle blocked her path. When she spoke, her voice was so unlike Aline that Isabelle flinched.

"This is a pretty sweet gig. I've never killed a Shadowhunter before."

Isabelle snorted. "You won't get the chance. Get out of Aline."

"Make me."

Not-Aline grinned. Wide and terrible as a rabid shark. She didn't stop as her eyes lit up with joy. The kind that Isabelle had seen on only the most depraved of demons, a childish gasp came from behind Isabelle and she turned. Behind her and clutching the bannister at the foot of the stairs was her little brother Max. Isabelle opened her mouth to yell at him to move, and Not-Aline raced forward, leaping onto the dining room table, shoes causing the silverware to shake. Muscles moving faster that mind, Isabelle blocked her path by jumping onto the table; she didn't lose balance as she uncoiled her whip.

"Sebastian!" she screamed. "Get Max out of here."

She turned to Not-Aline and began to chant necessary Latin. Not-Aline shrieked, lifting her foot high in the air and kicking Isabelle in the face. The force of it made Isabelle stumble back, her whip flailing before slashing at Not-Aline's chest. Not-Aline dodged with surprising ease and leapt up. This time Isabelle was ready, coiling her whip so that it wrapped around the attacking leg. Not-Aline ducked low, avoiding Isabelle's punch and balled her fists, slamming them into Isabelle's stomach. She doubled over, but didn't step back, grabbing Not-Aline's wrist. She began the exorcism chant again. Not-Aline screamed and tackled Isabelle, fists flailing as Isabelle's whip cut into her, leaving deep red welts into the young girl's flesh. That didn't deter the demon, who kept thrashing, not giving Isabelle the chance to exorcise it. So she used the heel of her hand and slammed upward into Not-Aline's face. Its head tipped back, blood going back up the nose, and momentarily choked. Unable to regain balance, it toppled backwards and crashed to the ground. Isabelle's whip still digging into Not-Aline and Isabelle let the force of it send her down, slamming her on top of the demon. The table cloth, plates, and silverware rained down around them and hitting them with no effect. Not-Aline's hand sped back and grabbed a silver knife, skimming it across Isabelle's stomach. A sharp scream cut deeper than any blade.

"Izzy!"

Both girls, distracted, looked up to see Max wrenching himself out of Sebastian's grip. The young boy's eyes fixed on the knife hovering over Isabelle's belly. Not-Aline used this moment to grab the table cloth and forth upwards to cover Isabelle's face. The whip slackened and Not-Aline flung herself up and pinned Isabelle beneath her. The silver knife flew high into the air and landing at Sebastian's feet. Max screamed as Not-Aline's hands wrapped around Isabelle's neck.

Isabelle's vision was filled with the white cotton tablecloth. The large dark shape of Not-Aline loomed over her as the fabric pressed into her nostrils, and the sound of her own breathing drowned out her brother's screams. Her chest heaved and she pictured the sound of her lungs screaming in protest. Isabelle bucked her hips, the grind of her pelvis against the demon. Despite Aline's size, the demon was easily preventing a wider range of movement. Isabelle's hands flailed, her whip slicing through the air in frantic arcs just as desperate as its owner. Dampness suddenly splattered down like rain, wetting the fabric and when Isabelle sucked in, pulling in the fabric closer to her face. She could smell it, even taste it. She had drawn Aline's blood.

This triggered Isabelle's panic afresh. Her chest pains intensified as the muscles in her arms began to shake in strenuous, seizure-like abandon. One of her hands knocked at her head, causing her hair to come unbound from its arranged style. A small part of Isabelle was still in control and she groped for where she heard a tinny clatter. She finally grasped the hair chopstick, its cold metal reassuring Isabelle as she clicked its base. The small slim blade popped out of its hiding place just as Isabelle freed the hand that held it. She couldn't see, but instinct made her aim true and felt the familiar sensation of metal struggling before piercing through flesh and blood slicking her hands. The weight pinning Isabelle slickened and she pushed up, freeing herself from the sheet. Cold air hit her and she gasped it in, body screaming in relief. Isabelle didn't pause as she scrambled up, eyeing Not-Aline, who was clutching at her neck. Isabelle's hair piece was still stuck in place. She didn't hit an artery, rather she hit just below the jaw, blade tilting upwards and a bit more shallow than she had initially thought. The wound wasn't fatal to Aline. Isabelle's relief was short lived. In one move Not-Aline pulled the pin out of her neck, ignoring the spurt of blood that splashed out and flow down the collar bone. The demon smiled, lips stained red.

Its hand gripped the hair pin tight tiny knuckles white and straining. She moved the pin lower, the bloody point going further down until it rested in the middle of Aline's neck in a certainly fatal place as it hovered over a thick artery. She pressed the point further into the skin, almost to a breaking point and the pin would rip the artery open. The pin's point creating an obscene dimple in Aline's neck. If the demon pushed any harder than Aline would bleed out in a manner of minutes. She was close, but not close enough for Isabelle for safely make the first move. If she tried to exorcise it, the demon could arguably have enough time to stab the neck before being forced out. Isabelle gritted her teeth as she let her whip hang loose to buy time.

Isabelle released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in. The demon smiled wider and she realized with dread, that she had made a mistake. Not-Aline moved the pin away, but Isabelle knew what was going to happen before it could. She put a burst of speed in her heels as her body propelled itself into Aline. The demon grunted in surprise, dropping the hairpin, but its hands quickly shot out and grabbed Isabelle's hair. It took a fistful and wrapped the locks around her fist, sending shocks of pain to Isabelle's scalp. Not-Aline tugged hard, using Isabelle's momentum against her, causing her to whirl around and be slammed straight into the corner edge of the wall. The impact crashing hard into her frame as she felt her nose break against the plaster. Blood splattered on the wall, bright against the paint. Stars burst in her vision, obscuring her blood from view. Isabelle blinked, stunned, and Not-Aline tugged her by the hair, pulling her head up so sharply that Isabelle's neck cricked. The demon got a firmer grip on her hair, pulling Isabelle closer by the fistful before slamming her head into the wall repeatedly. Not-Aline giggled at the growing red stain and Isabelle groaned when Not-Aline pulled her back by the hair, as it was the only way Isabelle could remain upright. Not-Aline nuzzled her cheek, crooning in her ear.

"Ugly little bitch."

Not-Aline slammed her into the wall one final time before letting go and watching Isabelle slide down to the floor with a wet thump.

SPNTMI

Maryse and Robert fought back to back, the screams of fellow shadowhunters echoing throughout the halls. From the way others had turned on each other, like rabid dogs except with a glee unmatched by anything she had ever seen before, it wasn't too hard to guess at possession. How this happened was hard to tell; only certain demons could possess people and a shadowhunter was even harder to possess. It was the first thing Robert relayed to Maryse when they met up on the staircase. More than half the council members sprawled dead around them.

"How many of us do you think are left?" Robert asked, stabbing an errant tentacle.

The tentacle's owner gave a screech of pain, brackish fluid burst out as the tentacle exploded, and splattering Robert's gear with gusto. Maryse gave a delicate shrug, eyes searching for enemies.

"Not too sure, but the lower levels are over run and not accessible without heavy weaponry." She glowered. "Which we don't have. I had to use my last kindjal and it broke in half."

Robert nodded. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to stay was deafened by a great roaring. Everything shook in response. Maryse and Robert reached for each other, stiff as hunting dogs. The ceiling cracked, tiny bits of debris seeping through. Another shake accompanied a burst of roaring.

"That came from above." Maryse said.

Robert nodded. "I think a part of the Gard collapsed."

The roaring grew louder, closer and Maryse peered out of a broken window, face draining of color, and instead reflecting the hue of the scene. Colossal pillars of flame were bursting out of the Gard. Bright, angry colors of the intense fire were only outdone by thick choking smoke the broiled up to the sky like hot water, obscuring the sky. It was impossible to tell where the fire started or how, but that didn't matter. It was already here.

"Robert…" she whispered.

At her tone, he followed her gaze, paling at the sight. Billowing flames visibly advanced in their direction, the heat could felt even from where they stood; sweat breaking out on their bodies, making them look feverish. A keening noise rose higher and higher, demanding their attention. The sound was overwhelming as it became more obvious that those were the sounds of human beings in pain, begging for help. When Maryse spoke, her voice quavered, and eyes glassy in the reflection of burning surroundings. To Robert she suddenly looked as young as the day he first met her.

"The prison Gard. Jace."

She shuddered, violently doubling over, but made no sound. Despite her wearing gear, Robert had long since memorized the roadmap of her back and he counted the ridges of her spine and was oddly comforted by the sight. Before her could put his arms around her, she straightened up and the weapon in her hand was firm in her grip.

"We need to retreat. It isn't feasible to stay at a place that can no longer be defended."

"Then we should hurry." Robert handed her an elbow length blade. "I'll cover you."

The two stopped speaking, running past the council room full of dead shadowhunters and descended the narrow staircase. The movement gave the urgency of being pursued, smoke beginning to fill up the passage behind them, bringing with it the clarity of imminent danger. A piece of the staircase had been blown off, black at the edges and crusting over with blood. Surprisingly, the staircase could still hold itself up unsupported by the top half. The drop was at least ten feet.

Another explosion of flame echoed against the walls. Maryse picked up her pace, the narrow passage was meant for single file. At the latest sound of fire, Robert stopped, whirled around picking up Maryse as if she were a little girl. He didn't hold her for long. Robert tossed her down the gap of the stairs. Maryse shifted her weight in the air, swinging her body so that she landed in a crouch. The exit was only a few hundred feet farther and Robert was going to be right behind her. She sprinted, muscles crying out but she ignored them. Once she hit the smoky air, she allowed herself to turn around. Out of her peripheral vision someone in black was moving towards the Gard. Automatically she raised her blade and prepared for attack.

"Maryse Lightwood."

It only took her a few seconds to register who the voice belonged to.

"Kalim."

Kalim nodded and coming up behind him were more shadowhunters, hurrying with water, their faces strained. They rushed past Maryse, dumping water as soon as they were close enough to the flames. A long screech and hiss of warning before a large fireball exploded outwards, more deafening than the last, pushing the shadowhunters back by at least twenty feet. The ones closest to the Gard were flung back even farther, screaming as pockets of flames burned them. Even more unfortunate were the ones that caught on fire, trying to put themselves out. Maryse didn't care about that. Something shattered inside herself as everything narrowed down to a tiny point of light and inside that light something came into focus. Maryse became aware of the screaming, the pain in her throat, the way the sound traveled through her, and projected up to the sky. All the way up to the he smoke.

"Robert!"

SPNTMI

Clary smelled the stench before she saw anything. She put a burst of speed to her feet, her stele gripped tight in one hand, a seraph blade in another. Jace beside her and she felt a small spark of pride at being able to keep pace with him. The screams snapped her back to her surroundings. Alicante was in chaos, ancients of all manner of grotesquerie attacked indiscriminately. The ones that could fly swooped down to pick up children, only to drop them from great heights. Others with tentacles strangled and suffocated any within their lengthy reach. Corpses littered the ground, many of them missing limbs as though they had half-eaten, their devourers interrupted by forces that weren't there to keep protecting the dead.

Clary resisted the urge to put her hand to her face, and she steadied her nausea by concentrating on her stele. The power that buzzed through it calmed her, as did Ithuriel's presence.

"We are not alone."

Clary nodded and repeated the angel's words aloud. Jace stiffened deadly, silent as his eyes swept past the broken shop windows. They had a looted look to them and the lamp post's witchlight flickered ominously, clattering against the bent poles. Jace withdrew a seraph blade.

"Get behind me."

A sickening slithering sound suddenly emerged amid the screams. An ancient appeared. It was large and an off grey-green color. It seemed to be a cross between a slug and a centipede. Its body was coated in thick mucus that dribbled to the ground, hissing wherever its drops hit the cobblestones. Tiny legs that barely touched the ground wriggled at them. Eyeless, its head, or rather the front of it swiveled to face them. A zipper-like protrusion went from end to the other, clattering together in agitation as it slunk closer to them. Jace sucked in a breath and his voice was tight when he spoke.

"Careful, that's a-"

"I don't care."

Clary was shocked at the coldness of her own voice, but the sight of the creature kindled a rage in her that she never experienced before. She was aware that Ithuriel felt the same-she could feel the angel's fury and disgust as if it were her own.

"Unclean monstrosity. We need to destroy this affront."

Clary nodded in agreement, righteous indignation making her dizzy as she watched herself raise her seraph blade higher and named it.

"Ithuriel."

The blade blazed to life and Clary gasped. The blade had come to life at Ithuriel's command, the energy filling her up from inside her and into the blade, letting it light up with fury. It looked different somehow, as if lit up from the inside, vibrating with tension. The power expanded until she wasn't sure whose it was anymore, but that didn't matter because it was theirs. It unfurled inside of her, trembling as the invocation swirling in the blade fueled the both of them.

"Let's go."

Clary dashed for it with a scream, ignoring Jace's shout of alarm. The creature spun sharply at the noise, tensing as Clary's blade descended to meet it.

SPNTMI

Screams echoed from all around, bouncing off each other, giving the impression of one long terrified cry. The city of Alicante must have been beautiful once. Large white towers of a sickly opaque color stood raised up, still tall despite the fact that they looked rotted, crystalline roots drying up.

"Not good. The demon towers have been deactivated. They were the only thing-magically-that protected the city, without them the shadowhunters are defenseless."

Sam looked sharply back at Magnus, the words chilling him.

"Then we gotta hurry. Luke's already gone ahead." He said.

The memory of the usually mild mannered man transforming, literally into a wolf came back into Sam's mind. Despite being one of the stranger things he had seen, it wasn't nearly as disgusting as initially thought it would have been. It was a little like watching something in fast forward. He had been a bit bigger than the average wolf, but so did the other wolves. Other than that, they appeared to be the same to any other wolf that could be seen on the discovery channel. Except when Sam looked into Luke's eyes and saw the same keen intelligence that had always been there.

"He won't need any back up." Dean said.

Sam nodded, his brother's words bringing him back to the present. Luke had left with a veritable army; at least thirty or so wolves followed his lead as he raced into Alicante.

"We'll take the left." Dean said, "As much as I don't want to split up, this is a big place. So Magnus and Cas, you guys take the right. We'll all meet up later."

Cas frowned but moved closer to Magnus, who shrugged. "If that's how you want to do it mundane."

Dean scowled but raced down the hill all the same. Sam looked back at Magnus and Cas.

"Be careful guys."

"You as well." Cas replied.

The angel looked ready to fight, following the warlock as the two advanced to their destination. Sam moved closer to Dean, in a kind of disturbed awe at the sight of so much bloodshed and destruction. The half-eaten corpses-some of them children-littered the ground. Sam raised his gun higher as the screams got closer to them and were accompanied by cruel bursts of laughter. The owners of the sounds came into view. An old man was being chased by a group of shadowhunters in their black gear with their eyes matching the color of their clothes. Without thinking Sam rattled off the necessary Latin and black smoke unfurled themselves out of screaming mouths of the hosts, who fell to the ground. Sam grimaced regretting the desire to pull the demons out without the Latin, but banished the thought as he exchanged a look with Dean.

"Ok, where are the fireworks?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged in response, pointing the muzzle of his rifle to a winding street that was literally running with blood. Despite the cries of terror and pain, they did not meet anyone else. Sam could smell something burning and when he looked up to see smoke as dense as if it was from a forest fire, but the fire itself didn't seem to be spreading. Maybe it was under control? Other than that, something definitely wasn't right, his foreboding increasing. A feeling rather than a noise alerted him that something was approaching. He turned at the exact moment the witchlight stones flickered, fluctuating between dim and incredibly bright. It became too much for them and the stones shattered, glimmering for a few seconds more before dying out. Shoes crunched over them and Sam stared at the figure who hadn't been there a second ago. A tall muscular frame that was topped with white hair and a hard face. A recognizable individual, but instinct told him as quick as his soul who that really was in front of him.

"Lucifer."

He smiled the expression too benevolent on Valentine's face.

"Hello Sam."

His placid expression fixed Sam in place. Lucifer had steepled his fingers together, as if he wanted to give the illusion of calm. In fact, his face lacked animation, but it was his eyes that Sam paid attention to. They were vivid and cold, a kind of self-assured menace. Sam could sense the pull of that anger, the tugging that he could feel inside him. The presence of him, as if everything in Sam was shouting.

'He is here. In front of you.'

Lucifer's stance was possessive and Sam shuddered. Everything about the archangel was familiar and the shame of that notion was enough to make him nauseous. The world was growing fuzzy and slow, but his instinct screamed at him.

'Move, move, move, move!'

Lucifer's eyes kept him pinned in place and he finally began to walk towards Sam. The feeling of familiarity increased, as though gravity itself was coming for him, making him shake. The nearness of Lucifer made his heart pound. It was too much; Sam's vision began to short out, threatening to send him sinking down despite the hyper awareness. Sam gasped, willing himself to focus. Lucifer extended a hand as if asking for an embrace.

A sudden shout made him pull up short. Dean was running to them. Sam hadn't even realized that Dean had been trying to get to them, waiting for the right moment to attack. Now he was in action. Lucifer gave him one lazy glance, sweeping his hand to the side. The gun clattered to the ground as Dean levitated into the air; he hung momentarily suspended before he was flung backwards. He was stopped by the wall of a shop advertising weapons. He hit the bricks with a vicious thud.

"Dean!"

Dean rose to his feet, a protective snarl in his voice. "Sammy-"

Lucifer raised his hand, pinning Dean to the wall. He turned his attention back to Sam. Sam swallowed heavily, saliva thick and choking in his throat. It didn't matter that Lucifer wasn't speaking; Sam could already imagine what he was going to say. What he would whisper to Sam's soul. Lucifer was taking his gun away. It would be the first of many things he would take away. Sam wasn't even sure if he dropped the thing or not because there was a roaring in his ears. It sounded too much like Lucifer's voice for him to care.

"Now I went through a lot of trouble today to see you. Won't you come with me? It'll save us a lot of time."

Sam knew a threat when he heard one, but he could also hear his name being called. Strained and afraid. He turned, dread increasing as he felt Lucifer's gaze follow his. Dean stared back, green eyes shining out to Sam, mirroring the terror he felt.

"Don't give in."

Lucifer's hand extended again. Sam noticed his fingers-Valentine's fingers-were unusually slim and rather graceful for a warrior. Someone else's fingers were reaching for him without thought or will of their own. The soft gesture filled Sam with terror. It was too hard to breathe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that he was hyperventilating. The fingers were close enough to kiss. From far away, Dean was struggling to get free from his invisible bindings.

"Son of bitch, leave him alone! Sammy!"

'He never will.' Sam thought, dizzy and bitter.

The fingers touched Sam's eyes like a benediction and suddenly he was enraged, but was about to collapse. He was just about to scream when a hand shot out and gripped Lucifer's wrist.

"Dean?" he asked, hazy voiced.

A laugh. Smooth with an undercurrent. Not Dean after all. The voice that came with it was much the same. It tutted.

"Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do."

'No. No way, can't be.'

The tone of mockery was distinct. Mirth, malice, and melancholy. A rich sneering voice. Sam blinked before his eyes widened in shock. The all too familiar short frame, slick backed hair, and the smirk. However, it was Lucifer who spoke first, disbelief clear in his voice.

"Gabriel."

"The one and only."

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

Gabriel gave him a bored, almost even look. "Umm saving your ass. Duh."

"So you've chosen Michael's side?" Lucifer began. "Choosing him over me-"

Gabriel darkened. "Screw him and screw you."

Lucifer was visibly taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Because you two couldn't play nice. You made us choose. Made me chose. So fine, I'll do it." He took a breath. "I choose them." He jerked his head towards Sam. "People."

Confusion and disgust warred for dominance in Lucifer's expression. Was there an undercurrent of hurt there as well?

"Why?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Well they don't have porn in Heaven."

Sam choked and shot the short archangel an incredulous look. Gabriel shrugged at him before sobering his expression.

"Because as bad as they can be, they do their damnedest to be good."

"They are the most miserable, weakest creatures ever made! A mistake!" Lucifer shouted.

"The same could be said about us. Seriously." Gabriel gave him a bitter smile. "Taught not to feel for so long we've forgotten how, to even decide what's the right thing to do really is. They make the toughest choices every day. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sick of re-runs."

"Brother…" Lucifer's voice was both mournful and cutting. "If I have to, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Gabriel snapped. "Go ahead and do it. Hell, you've been doing whatever you wanted to for years."

Gabriel eyed his brother with disdain and Sam was surprised to see Lucifer pull away from the gaze as if it burned.

"So you'll take sloppy seconds from a nephilim? Epic fail bro."

"And you?" Lucifer asked icily, "Hiding who you really are?"

Gabriel shrugged, brutal and quick. "Eh? What can I say? I'm not the jealous type." He continued. "Face it, you only wanted Dad to pay attention to you. Which you had by the way. Out of all of us. But no, couldn't have humanity steal your thunder, huh? If it ain't your way, it's no way." He shook his head. "I swear you and Michael have so much in common it's scary. Not to mention pathetic."

Rage, cold and wild flashed over Lucifer's face. "Mind yourself, brother."

He said it in a scolding tone, like a big brother keeping his temper in check.

'As if he had any right.' Sam thought. 'To act like a brother.'

Gabriel suddenly looked very young and Sam flushed, realizing he was witnessing something that was much too personal for him to see. He was suddenly uncomfortable on both Dean and Gabriel's behalf. He didn't know anyone who'd want to say any of this with an audience. As if sensing this, Gabriel kept his eyes on his brother. His voice softer when he spoke next.

"I say these things because I love you. Doesn't matter how much of an asshole you are, or what you've done. I still remember my big brother."

"So are you going to stop me?"

Another smirk. "I learned from the best." To Sam he said, "Get outta here Sasquatch."

Lucifer gave a bemused look, arching an eyebrow, a small smile about his mouth. For a moment he looked like Gabriel. A dark mirror of an expression that made Sam's heart clench. Lucifer spun around, silver flashing in his hand as he thrust forward, stabbing Gabriel in the abdomen. Sam shouted, staring as the Gabriel in front of him began to waver before disappearing entirely. Another one of Gabriel's tricks. Sam focused on the real scene. Both brothers locked together, struggling as Lucifer held fast to his blade, impaling Gabriel.

"Yes you did little brother."

Gabriel gasped and Sam flinched. Gabriel's face, full of astonishment, hurt, and love that made Sam nearly recoil from the agony. The angel blade in Gabriel's hand clattered against the cobblestones with a ringing cry as anguished as a human voice, but it wasn't that that shook Sam. It was the way Gabriel reached for Lucifer's shoulders, grasping and falling short. If Lucifer drove the blade in any deeper…

Suddenly Sam was enraged, so completed and consuming, he was amazed he could focus. His muscles went on autopilot as he hands sped to reach the colt. He gripped the handle tight as he pulled it out and uncocked it in one blurred action as the barrel was a straight lined shot to Lucifer's head. Sam pulled the trigger. Aim true, the bullet lodged into the devil's temple, the force of it bringing him to a shuddering halt, taunt with the dancing sparks of the colt's killing power. Lucifer went slack, knees buckling beneath his sudden weight, eyes wide with surprise before collapsing bonelessly to the ground. He went down with a loud thump.

Dean, released from the wall, landed in a crouch and hurried to Sam's side. Gabriel looked down at his brother's body, swaying alarmingly, and one hand holding the angel blade still in his stomach. His eyes fluttered before his body gave way and Sam moved to his side, catching him before he fell. Sam grunted in surprise. Gabriel was heavier than he looked and he wasn't helping Sam support him. In fact, he was staring at Sam as if he was having trouble trying to place him, his eyes very soft, the emotion behind them hard to pin down. The look vanished was he peered down at Lucifer, then back to Sam with a dawning comprehension.

"You…idiot."

"Hey, I just saved your ass."

Dean bent down to examine Lucifer. The wound was still smoking. He whistled.

"Did that just happen?"

"I think so."

Gabriel groaned, his head flung back on Sam's chest, the vibration rattling Sam's ribcage, snapping his attention back to the archangel.

"This is gonna hurt." Sam said.

He yanked the blade out, wincing at the sudden scream that shattered windows. Sam gaped at the wound. A bright blue-white light was visible underneath the cut of the flesh, undimmed even as ruby red blood spilled out. Sam ripped off a strip of Gabriel's jacket, ignoring the groan of protest as he bound the wound.

"No…that won't have-" he growled, cutting himself off.

"Help me with him." Sam said.

Together Sam and Dean hoisted Gabriel up, each one on the other side of him from under his arms and began to move.

"It's not…gonna…hurry….won't last." He shuddered. "The gun…doesn't last."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"Go go go go." Dean said.

They hurried down a side street, not losing their footing despite the streets being slippery with blood.

SPNTMI

Clary leapt back, avoiding the spray of slime and blood. The fluid hid the ground with a hiss, burning the cobblestones. She narrowly missed the burned stones, the heat pooling at her feet. She could feel it through her shoes and she shifted her stance to watch to ancient scuttle warily forwards. Its centipede legs waggled, blood crusting the edges. The seraph blade in Jace's hand opaque and useless. To Clary, its power diminished as it name gone as surely as the one who powered it unresponsive to the power of Jace, its conduit and familiar. Clary felt a spark of pride that hers was working and still able to communicate with hers. She spared a quick glance at Jace and he stared back. He was still the way he was before he was about to strike. Jace gave her a nod, telling her to move to the left and flank the monster. He glared at her to give a quick warning, not even bothering with pretense. She gave him a reassuring smile then her own nod.

Jace shifted his weight. The ancient lifted its head in response despite having no eyes. Its zipper teeth chattered together, almost sounding like laughter. However Jace had a smirk ready in response, but kept his body loose. The only visible tension was in his eyes. The ancient focused all its attention on Jace, even beginning to advance. Jace just needed to buy her a little more time. This show of trust, so quick after his declaration of the opposite nearly overwhelmed her.

'Still, can't mess this up.'

She willed her feet to be silent as his when she moved. As her boot stepped forward, the ground shook as if Clary was some magnificent beast. The creature screeched, wildly turning its head with surprising speed. Its zipper teeth opened and slime cascaded down its head and body, finally oozing onto the street. It seemed confused to Clary. The shaking stopped short as if cut off. A metallic scent rented through the air, lifting the hair on her arms and neck. Like a prophecy she sensed it before it came. Tense coils of electricity wrapped around lampposts, crackling the witchlight until it exploded. Sharp snapping lines shot through the sky. The reverse of a thunderstorm and streaked out, covering a wide net of sizzling power. It hummed like a hive, larger even. The vibration wound its way around her bones and Ithuriel cried out in her mind, strumming in response to the display of power. The force of it was making her body shake and her eyes water.

It lit up their surroundings and she saw ancients and demons that had gathered to them, unbeknownst in their focus of the creature in front of them. They were surrounded by these things, their features twisted in malice from the bright, crackling light. It lasted only a moment before being hit, and when struck, swelled in size. They were lit for few minutes after being electrocuted. They swayed like trash in the breeze before collapsing to the ground. The ancients hissed, collapsing in on themselves as the possessed shadowhunters shakily rose to their feet. They leered at Clary and Jace, black eyes glittering in the fractured light. Zipper-teeth screeched again, somehow having evaded the lightening.

"We were careless. Paying attention to just one thing and not our surroundings." Jace said, teeth tight in frustration.

'Because you wanted to protect me.' Clary thought. 'I shouldn't have pushed so hard.'

Clary gripped her blade tighter, letting it burn brighter but a voice interrupted her, answering Jace.

"Yes but that is why we are here!" A voice called from high above.

High up on a halfway destroyed shop, Magnus Bane stood on a smoking rooftop like some great billowing bat. A black coat jettisoned by the warlock's light show. His green-gold cat eyes were wide with theatrical assertiveness, but his serious posture, and sparks danced at his fingertips.

Jace arched a graceful eyebrow. "We?"

"Yes." A new voice rasped.

It was Castiel. In one moment he had appeared in front of the remaining ancient. It thrashed and screamed before him, sensing his presence. Castiel eyed the thing in cold disgust, a slight scent of something brittle emanated from him, like thunder. As though he called the lightening himself. The ancient hissed again, more fearfully this time, and Castiel moved so fast that his arm blurred. His weapon burning bright in his hand. He brought it down as sure and quick as lightening. It slammed down hard, cracking the zipper teeth and sending them flying, where they scattered to the ground like coins. Blood, thick and hot sprayed in a wide arc. With a final scream of pain, the ancient crumpled to the ground, disappearing in moments.

Castiel paid it no more attention and instead looked at Clary. She felt a thrill go through her, the power inside her stirred in recognition of one of its own was within distance. Inside Clary, the one who wasn't Clary wanted to go, to speak to the younger brother staring back at them. Clary didn't feel the same pull so she sent calming thoughts to get them both on track. Clary smiled to Castiel, but before he could respond, Magnus addressed Clary and Jace.

"Go to the Accords Hall. Everyone is waiting there."

"What about you two?" Clary asked.

"They'll be ok." Jace answered.

"He's right." Magnus said. "The Accords Hall needs to be defended."

Understanding shone in Jace's eyes, hard and determined. At seeing this, Magnus smirked. Jace gave them both curt nods and without looking at Clary, turned and raced up a winding street. Clary hot on his heels.

SPNTMI

Dean fired round after round into the monsters, trying to aim as people ran past him. They carried children, hurried along the elderly and others who couldn't defend themselves on their own. The crowd rushed to the building at the top of the hill in front of the square. It was a wide area with an old school square with a fountain in the middle. At the fountain's center stood a statue of an angel. Its golden surface was crafted with an exquisite expression of calm righteousness. It held aloft a sword and was demon was pinned underneath its sandaled foot. The angel was simply robed, clothes rippling around taunt, seamless muscles that grooved deeply in its surface, the shadows creating depth. Dean scowled at it as civilian and warrior alike splashed through the fountain in their haste to retreat.

They even pushed others aside or falling themselves in the gathering throng. The sounds of advancing enemies from all sides. The consequences of their being there ringing louder than the terrified cries of the citizens of Alicante. Dean let them push past them, ushering them along into the building, guessing it was their city hall.

"Get inside, hurry!"

A small boy clambered over the wall that encircled the fountain, tiny feet catching on themselves and sending him tumbling into the water. Dean scooped the child up in one arm and hauling him to his feet. A woman raced back to the child and hoisted him in her arms. She gave a shout at Dean as she ran into the hall. Dean shot a flying ancient that swooped too low. Someone bumped into Dean and he whirled around, gun moving with him and he found himself face to face with-

"Dean?!" Jace stared at him incredulously. "By the Angel, what the hell are you doing here?"

Another scream sliced through the air, cutting off Dean's reply. Wordlessly Jace grabbed a slim dagger, runes engraved on the blade and bold in the reflected light. He flung it past Dean, and it sunk into the head of an ancient. It fell with a sharp cry. Jace glared at Dean in exasperation but Dean stared back, unblinkingly as he reloaded his gun. Jace heaved a sigh.

"Where's your brother?"

"Inside already."

"The others?" Jace asked.

"On their way."

SPNTMI

Sam marveled at the shadowhunters' calm. Only moments ago they helped him salt down the entrances and now they gathered together in silence, delegating tasks. A group of them had set to the task of healing the injured, their stele's flashing. Even with the quiet, it was a beautiful place. Polished marble reflected the occupants. Faces stretched tight, red eyes, and glaring mouths. The hall itself was larger than it seemed from the outside. In the center of the hall, the fountain of a mermaid was smiling at everyone, water pouring out from its tail. The fountain was set in the center, which was a few hundred feet from four sets of staircases that went in every direction. Large pillars on either side of each stair set stood at the top of said stairs, ushering walkers to go up to austere hallways that were dimly lit by witchlight. Above the square was a domed ceiling, showing the burning sky. Its crystalline structure showing off the night sky with painful clarity. It was supported with thick gilded beams. It still kept the monsters at bay.

However, no one was looking up at the sky. They were all too busy looking at Sam. To be precise, they were all gaping at Sam, Dean, Cas, and Gabriel. With stunned slack-jawed, unabashed gaping of a group that they were well aware was not a part of them. A girl, barely ten, tentatively reached out to touch a newly spray painted devil's trap. The girl's mother snatched her back into her boldly Marked arms. Their bustling self-sufficiency meant none approached them, despite their almost hunter like calm. Even the children's eyes were dry. They glared at the foursome. A voice whispered, easily heard in the quiet crowd.

"By the Angel." A shaky exhale. "Mundanes."

"What are mundanes doing here?"

Voice began to murmur and people began to point at the four. Sam fidgeted, making him seem taller than he actually was. His eyes moved down to Dean, who looked even more uncomfortable but stared stonily back at the gawkers. Gabriel sat wanly on the steps and despite holding his wound, he still managed to keep a bored expression. Castiel stood next to Dean and blinked. More voices increased in pitch and the crowd began to move. The shadowhunters parted as a group began to move to the center of the fountain. It was Luke and his werewolves. A bit worn for wear, but otherwise unharmed.

"Luke!" Clary shouted.

She broke away from Jace's side and raced forward, leaping into Luke's arms. He grunted from the impact and then he wrapped tightly around her. They stood that way for a few moments. When they pulled back, he raised his hand and smacked her upside the head. Clary winced.

"What was that for?"

"For not waiting for me. Don't you know how worried I was?"

Clary hung her head. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"I know." Luke put a hand on Clary's shoulder.

The shadowhunters and the werewolves kept to themselves. The former in particular pressed away from Luke and his pack, doing their best to ignore the outsiders. His werewolves began to skirt around the a few other downworlders that had shown up. The hands of shadowhunters tightened around their weapons, eyes narrow. Clary wasn't watching that. She was watching Jace, who was eyeing the crowd. She guessing he was trying to spot his family somewhere in the sea of faces. His eyes widened and she followed his gaze. Maryse and Isabelle were in a tight embrace. Max was cradled in between them, limp and pale. Alec taunt as a wire, eyes dry and red. The world was shaking in those eyes alone. He was so still, Clary thought he might never move again. Clary sucked in a breath, to grasp at the air that was beginning to change in her mouth. She shivered next to Luke.

Jace didn't need to push his way to the Lightwoods', shadowhunters moved just as fast as they did when the werewolves appeared. Jace met the gaze of this family, the look too intimate to be had in front of a crowd. Jace pulled himself to them. Isabelle disentangled herself from Maryse situated Max so that he lay in her lap, stroking his hair. His lips almost girlish in their pinkness, although they would never be that color again. Even though his expression would slacken and his body go stiff, for now his serene smile would hold. To keep giving the illusion of sleep. Maryse seemed to have aged ten years, actually fragile and pale. The lines in her face pushed deeper, eyes sinking back into her skull as if she had just died herself.

Isabelle slowly enfolded Jace into her arms like a shield sturdy in the face of reality. Jace torn himself away after only a moment. Jace gave Isabelle the gentlest smile Clary had ever seen. It was kept firm in place, offsetting the glassiness in his eyes, as if he too, contained a universe within them. It rumbled deep and dark. Clary shivered. She didn't know how he could ever smile again. Jace steered Isabelle back to Maryse and Alec. Jace looked his parabatai in the eyes. The two didn't say anything as they spoke the language of brothers. Alec swallowed heavily and Jace leaned close, pressing his lips forehead like a benediction. His mouth trembled against tumbling locks. Alec's feather duster eyelashes quivered, growing thick and weighing down with tears.

Jace leaned down to Max as if paying homage to a fallen king. He nuzzled into him, catching his baby scent. Maryse bowed down like a weeping willow and leaning into Max as if he was sunlight itself. Jace closed eyes and breathed deep. As if it would be for the last time. Shoulders slumping for all to see. Clary had the sudden urge to put them in some private place. She rubbed her arms, willing the motion to calm her. Max's body so tiny and prone sent her into overdrive.

As if sensing her stare, Jace turned to meet Clary's eyes. The sky was lit a vicious dark red backlit Jace. His hair a burnished gold, as if he was on fire from the inside. Clary's traitorous pulse sped up, almost terrified at the look of fierce affection that shone through the curtain of his grief that was reflected in there. Just as deeply rooted beside the sadness that was as terrible as a storm. Clary's eyes filled with tears but before she could do anything, another abrasive voice rang across the halls.

"Just what is happening?! What are all these downworlders doing here?!"

A squat shiny faced man pushed his way to the front. His gooseberry eyes glared at the expansive werewolf pack, the smattering of warlocks beside Magnus, and a tiny encirclement of fey. When his gaze fell on Sam, Dean, Gabriel, and Castiel. His eyes widened to almost comical proportions, face suffusing to an ugly shade of puce. For a moment, he stuttered and chocked. Gabriel snorted and the man's lips twisted upwards, too much fear to be a proper sneer. Much too embarrassed to be threatening. His eyebrows shot upwards. Dean leaned to Sam, his voice audible despite his low pitch.

"Who's the garden gnome?"

The man blinked rapidly, as if shocked that a mundane would dare to look at him, let alone speak to him. As though he as soon as expected a dog to walk on its hind legs and speak. However he understood what Dean had meant and reddened accordingly.

"Who let the mundanes in?!" the man shouted. "How did mundanes get in here? Someone is responsible for this!"

"I am." Luke said.

The man whirled away from Dean with a flustered glare and marched straight up to Luke, who pushed Clary behind him. The two men couldn't have been more different. Luke, tall and robust in his jeans and flannel stared back at the short, stout man wearing a trim and plush robe. Something about the man, already unmistakable in scope, paled in comparison to Luke. The man hissed.

"I am Inquisitor Aldertree and you Lucien Greymark have no right to be here! Neither do the rest of these…" his tongue rasping in a derogatory way. "Downworlders and mundanes."

Dean bristled and Sam was visibly taken aback. Gabriel managed to look even more condescending than he had since Sam had met him. It was a look he leveled at everyone in the vicinity. If Cas had felt insulted, he didn't show it. He merely stood straighter. Dean turned towards his brother and tried to speak, but was cut off by the Inquisitor.

"You people seem to think you can do whatever you want. Well you forget-you can't. There are rules."

"Laws can be changed." Luke replied.

"For once we agree."

Someone came into view, striding into the center of the hall. The soft footsteps that belies that haughty stance. Standing before all of them in a crisp pinstripe suit was Valentine. A collective gasp went up, almost as if it had been rehearsed. He was given a wide berth despite his hands empty of weapons. He spared Sam a glance and winked. It was Lucifer. Somehow impeccably dressed and trim. No trace of blood or grime on him.

Dean gave him a murderous glare, pushing himself in front of Sam. His brother was as white faced as himself. Sam fixed a heated glare on the fallen archangel, clenching his fists hard enough to draw blood. Gabriel doesn't bother to look at his brother, biting his lip, hunched over and hand wrapped around his wound. Cas moved closer to the other three, hand gripping his angel blade. However, Lucifer paid them no mind and strode over to Luke. As soon as he was out of earshot, Dean whirled on Gabriel and snapped at him in a hushed voice.

"Three guess who. A little heads up would have been nice!"

"Why didn't the colt work?" Sam asked.

Gabriel heaved a sigh. "That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. There are only five things in the universe that that gun can't kill and my brother just happens to be one of them." He wheezed.

"Good to know." Dean growled. "You could have told us that weeks ago."

"Well excuse me princess!" Gabriel snapped. "I didn't know that was what your dumbass plan was, if I had-"

"Would you please be quiet?" Castiel said. "Something is happening."

Both Gabriel and Dean shut up with a huff and Sam shot Cas a grateful look. The foursome watched Lucifer approach Luke."

"It's been awhile Lucien."

Dean frowned, speaking more to himself than anyone else. "Why is pretending to be Valentine?"

"Unless that's not Lucifer…" Sam said.

"No" Gabriel replied. He ignored Sam's shiver. "No, Lucifer is wearing him to the prom. Why he's doing this? I dunno, shits n' giggles. Normally, I'd do something like that to these douchecakes…" his voice trailed off.

Lucifer spread his arms wide as if he wanted to embrace Luke, who didn't move. It didn't seem to bother the former but he lowered his arms slowly, and began to face his audience.

"Now I know my companions and I have surprised you all. But it's necessary. The Clave is corrupt, weak, and the consequences of that are standing before you." He gestured at the gathering of downworlders. "They have breached our sacred city, diluted our birthright, and cloud our purpose. How can we protect the world when we interact with those whose ancestry is that of our enemies?" his face contorted into agony. "Therefore, to protect the Clave from itself, the diseased parts must be cut off for healthy growth to appear again." Lucifer steepled his fingers together, as if this was a mere business transaction. "I propose a deal. You will all have until sunset tomorrow to decide this. You downworlders and mundanes leave Idris and my fellow shadowhunters must disarm and swear allegiance to me. You must wear a rune that will ensure this. Those who do not will experience the consequences. I am told becoming a forsaken is unpleasant."

His lips twisted briefly as the theatrical gasp that went around. He gave another smile, this one lasting longer, even preacher like. Sam suppressed a shiver as Lucifer continued.

"Yes, and to further persuade you, my army of demons can attack at any time, able to decimate Alicante in mere minutes no matter how many you amass. However, that can be avoided. Simply allow me to lead and our kind will be great again. Not only unafraid, but acknowledged." He spread his palms open. "Imagine it brothers and sisters. A world where a mundane will get on his knees and thank you. Where no downworlder would dare disrespect you because of the duty only you are capable of. Imagine a perfect world, back to the handicraft of God."

At these words, it was Dean's turn to shudder. He flashed back to a future where Sam wore a pristine white suit, with one foot over his brother's corpse. A blooming flower was in his hand, bright as blood. Sam gave his brother a worried glance but kept silent. Gabriel shook his head, hair covering his eyes.

Lucifer sighed quietly. "Well, I've given you much to think about. Tomorrow at sunset on Brocelinde Plain you give me the answer then. If we have to settle this by force, it will be there. Till then." As he turned to leave, he spoke to Clary. "Oh and Clarissa please give my regards to your mother."

Clary's face underwent a metamorphosis, becoming white with rage. She seemed unable to move except for her fist, which was clenched so tight that she had drawn blood. Her green eyes were wide with fury. She needed them to be as open as she possibly could, so she could pinpoint and pour all her hate at her intended target. Her mouth quivered, as if it couldn't contain all the venom she needed to spew. Her little body a monument of righteous fury. Luke grasped her tightly, as if Lucifer might snatch her up. He bared his teeth, suddenly wolfish, ready to burst out of his skin to rip out Lucifer's throat.

Lucifer, having finished his parting shout, turned to leave. However, his spell hadn't quite broken. Inquisitor Aldertree was panting, chest heaving. He wheezed like a wounded bull. His paled face was beginning to flush, a hectic splotch over his face and neck. Whatever pretense he had possessed fell away, leaving him shaking. Impotent with rage and helplessness. It took him a moment to make his limbs move again, and when he did, it was with surprising speed.

"Valentine!" he screeched.

Blade in hand, he raised it high, aiming for Lucifer's back. "I am the Inquisitor-I set the rules!" spittle flew in all directions. "Die!"

Lucifer wheeled around, feral for a split second as he outstretched his arms, hands shaped like claws and swung low, bringing his arm up to Aldertree's chest. Lucifer's hand pierced though Aldertree's chest. Aldertree gasped like a fish out of water, eyes bulging impossibly as Lucifer's hand pushed all the way through the other side of Aldertree's chest. His hand protruded between the man's shoulder blade, and Lucifer lifted Aldertree off the ground. The man's feet kicked, skimming the marble ground. Blood splattered on the polished marble that reflected a man in the middle of his death throes. Lucifer was up to his elbow in the man's body. Aldertree's head knocked clumsily into his chest, coughing blood that speckled onto Lucifer's tie. Lucifer's hand withdrew his hand and Aldertree slumped to the ground. Purple faced, and his hands curled into crude fists, rigor already setting in. Lucifer looked down at the body in bemusement.

The air hissed as a dagger shot through the air, headed through the space between Lucifer's eyes. It sailed through as harmlessly as if it were imaginary. It passed through Lucifer as if her were a ghost. The dagger clattered onto the ground. Lucifer looked back up and everyone took several steps back. Lucifer became insubstantial before vanishing entirely.

The hall was in chaos. After Lucifer left, the hall exploded into noise. Arguments went round and round. The supposed Valentine's trust and worthiness versus that of the downworlders. It was so vocal, shadowhunters openly pointing and shout at the downworlders and each other. Dean and the other three were mostly ignored for the moment, only pointed at in the same manner Aldertree had. However, they weren't the only ones under scrutiny. The Lightwoods were treated in the same manner. One of the remaining council member stared at Jace as if he were some kind of two headed creature. He was a reedy man with sharp eyes and his rage tangible within his frame. He lifted one finger at Jace and he began to scream.

"You! You you you! If it weren't for you and your traitorous family, none of this would have happened. You are not even supposed to be here! I was there when the Council made the decision to expel you from the Clave and strip you of your marks. You were going to live like a wretched mundane as you deserve. We even put you in the Gard to be dealt with. Yet here you are, thinking you have the right to be here. Better to be a pathetic mundane than the spawn of Valentine. That alone should be proof that you are every bit a traitor as your father Jonathan Morgenstern!"

A hush fell over crowd and Clary didn't dare move as she saw Isabelle wordlessly from Maryse, as both mother and brother stood up, individual in their fury. Maryse went right into the nameless councilman's face, staring back at him. In a split second she pulled back her arm, cocked her aim, and slapped him full across the face. The sound was louder than a gunshot; it echoed like thunder and banished all other noise inside the hall. The councilman staggered back from the force of it. He clapped a hand to his already bruised side of his face. He stared at Maryse in undisguised shock. When she spoke, her voice was as brittle as glass.

"How dare you, speak to my son like that. " I've already lost my husband and my youngest child. You will not disrespect my other children."

"I-"

Alec rounded on the man, and his voice calmer than expected. "As for my brother's loyalty, I was the one who let him out of the Gard." His voice became firmer. "I can assure you he had nothing to do with Valentine's attack. He need a plan."

He broke off and his gaze met Magnus's. They held contact for a few beats as though there was something inside their eyes no one else had. The councilman looked back and forth between the two, confused. When Alec noticed, he dropped his gaze as if burned, face flushed. Magnus remained impassive and began to speak.

"Valentine does not have your best interests at heart and he will not hesitate to destroy anyone who opposes him, no matter their race, ideology, or family. If we do not think of a way to work together, or we'll all be killed."

This was met with dissent.

"You only say this because you are a downworlder and Valentine will destroy you."

"That's right; you'd need our help to be spared."

"What could you people possibly do that could be of any use to use?"

"We do not need nor want a downworlder's help."

"Leave before you make this worse."

"Exactly, because Valentine won't help us if you don't"

"You don't belong here!"

"Face it, you need us." Magnus said.

Luke sighed, brows pulling tight together as the murmurs grew louder, until shouts and slurs were thrown around, and the room erupted again.

"Unbelievable." Sam whispered.

Behind him he could hear Gabriel shift and speak to Cas.

"Can you still sense Maellartach? All I can feel is my brother."

Cas closed his eyes, frowning slightly. "Yes. Both are still in Idris, although it is hard to pinpoint either."

Gabriel nodded, and Sam, ignoring Dean's frustration, twisted around to look at the angels.

"Got an idea?" he asked.

"Yeah." Gabriel said. "Grab the sword and get the hell outta dodge."

"And leave all these people?"

Gabriel was unrepentant. "Yeah." He huffed. "These guys are screwed with or without our help. Hell, they won't even help themselves."

"Look, we're not leaving them." Sam replied, and his jaw set.

Gabriel stared back at him for a few minutes before running a hand through his hair. "Well, what's your great idea big guy?" he asked.

Sam thought for a moment, and the councilman whose outburst provoked another round of arguing, was speaking to a tanned woman, whose voice rose out with an audible snap.

"Fine! Fine! Downworlders are one thing, but mundanes? What a farce! A preposterous, insulting-"

Dean's sudden exclamation of anger made Sam jump. Dean stood straight and strode forward to the center of the fountain. Since this was the first noticeable action he had done since arriving and proofing the doors. The crowd stared.

"Seriously?!" he shouted. "I get it, ok? I get it. We're not the seven hundred club. We're not supposed to be here, we're breaking your 'precious' rules. But this is bullshit. People are dying and people will keep dying if you don't get your heads out of your asses, and own up to the fact you need our help. All of us."

His sharp gaze made shadowhunters back away, then glower at him. He kept going. He gestured not only to Sam and their angels, but to Luke, Magnus. The Lightwoods and the downworlders. He continued.

"Hey, we're the cavalry. A raggedy ass cavalry, but the only one you've got."

It was a while before anyone spoke, but a shadowhunter began again.

"A mundane-"

"His name is Dean." Luke said. "And he is right. If we don't stand together, we will all die."

The shadowhunters seemed cowed into a stony silence. Luke continued to speak.

"Now I suggest we come up with a way to work together for the time being." He said.

A shadowhunter named Kalim spoke up. "That appears to be reasonable enough. However, we need to think this over before we discuss terms with you."

Luke nodded. "Thank you. Where would you like to discuss this?"

"Here will be fine."

Sam marveled at Luke. 'We steamrolled our way in here, but he's the one running the show. Glad he's on our side.'

Clary was marveling too; at the beauty of the hall, so much more than her dream had ever been. More importantly, she was impressed at the skill Luke had shown in talking with the argumentative shadowhunters.

'Well he is the leader of the wolf pack, so I guess it really shouldn't surprise me.' She thought. 'But will I be able to get home in time?'

Clary searched for Magnus, the Book of White much too heavy in her pocket. The warlock wasn't in sight, but Clary caught Jace's gaze. He was with his family. They were given a wide berth, escorted by a few other shadowhunters in the hall. Maryse was holding Max's body. Isabelle pressed close to her as she held hands with Alec. Jace broke apart from them for a moment, putting his agonized eyes on Clary. She could see it, so plainly as if he laid his soul out to bear, just for her. It was only for a moment, but felt like a lifetime for her. Then he smiled at her. It was a bit forced, the sheen in his eyes potent with pain. Clary inhaled sharp and quick.

'He's trying to smile for me. Even though he's his father and Max and even more. He's trying to make me feel better.'

Clary had to do something. So she smiled back. It was the least she could do. There would be no other way to give him relief. No other way to help. As the Lightwoods walked away, she felt a part of herself walk out the door with them. Clary turned and knocked into someone.

"Sorry about that, I just-" she blinked in surprise. "Sebastian?"

Sebastian smiled. "Nice to see that you're alright."

Clary flushed. "Uh yeah. Thanks for your help by the way."

"Mm. Did you get what you needed?"

She hesitated and her uneasiness increased. How much to tell him? The book had been kept secret for a reason, and telling him was a bad idea, a corner of her mind reasoned. Her foreboding increased as she realized that she could feel Ithuriel's anxiousness as well. As she was reminded of the angel, a fierce protectiveness came over her. She envisioned herself throwing her arms over Ithuriel. Clary swallowed convulsively.

"Y-yes. Yes thank you." She took a step back. "If you'll excuse me."

Clary turned to leave and Sebastian's hand shot forward and closed around her wrist. She winced. She hadn't noticed it before, but her hands were just as slim as her mother's, but the grip was harsher than any that Jocelyn's ever was. Clary raised her gaze to Sebastian and had a flash of rubber-band snap intuition that something was strange. It brought back memories of what happened at the Fairchild ruins and an ugly flush spread over Clary's body.

"Y-you're hurting me." She stuttered.

"Sorry." He didn't relax his grip. "I just want to know how it went. You shouldn't be by yourself right now."

Clary frowned. "I'm not. She tugged her arm. "Really."

"Clary!"

Both turned to see Luke walking over to them. Sam and his brother behind him, and a woman she didn't know.

"See?" Sebastian's grip slackened and Clary tugged away from him. "Bye."

Clary went to their side, deliberately not looking behind her. She shook her head at Luke's questioning glance and he began to speak.

"Clary, we've got a shot at working together with the shadowhunters but this could take some time, probably a lot longer than necessary, so I've found accommodations for you all." He gestured to the woman.

She tentatively stepped closer. Clary noticed that she was careful not to brush up against Luke. She was pretty. Brown hair that was gracefully shot through with a silvery gray. It was swept up into a braid that hung down to her hip. Her face had light lines to it, but it was her eyes that showed her age. They were a melancholy blue, wide and nervous. She blushed pink like a school girl. Like Madeleine, Clary thought with a pang. She couldn't discern the woman's age by looks alone, but it was her eyes that really brought attention to her. Their shade was vivid and sharp. Wide and youthful in shape, but old in their content. Clary noticed that Luke seemed wary of touching her too, because he kept his hand raised to Clary as opposed to the woman.

"Clary I'd like you to meet Amatis Herondale, my sister."

Clary's mind stuttered from the information and when she spoke, she hadn't counted on her voice going as high as it did.

"Sister? Ah…uh, that's nice. I-I mean when, when? Er how long?"

Luke smiled. "Since birth."

Clary flushed. "Oh right. Yeah. I knew that. What I meant to say was, it's nice to meet you. So why haven't I heard of you?"

Both fidgeted, almost in unison and Clary realized that she had touched on a sore topic, but before she could retract her tactlessness, Luke answered her.

"We've been out of touch, but…" Luke smiled.

"We're trying to get better." Amatis said, "You'll be staying in my home. You all are."

She gestured to Sam and Dean, who were hanging back a little farther than Clary realized. Amatis continued.

"If you feel comfortable with it."

"Yes of course, thank you."

"I've invited the Lightwoods as well, seeing as how…"

Amatis trailed off. Clary blinked, kicking herself for not recognizing the resemblance sooner. Amatis had the same slim, wiry build. Her stance, while not as wide, was a bit quieter. If Luke had been born a girl, Amatis would be it. She quelled the jealousy she felt when she knew that came from not knowing another aspect of Luke's life, but she smiled, liking the look of Amatis.

"So." Amatis blew back a strand of hair. "Ready to go?"

SPNTMI

It had been a quiet funeral, the traditional white clothes hastily found. The runes inscribed on them were meant to be gentle, but to Jace, they just blurred his eyes. Watching Maryse try to contain her grief as Isabelle sobbed openly was too much. It weighed on her, like a living thing as though her back could hunch over at any moment and plow her into the ground. It seemed to take all her willpower to remain quiet and upright. Yet she did. Any other time and Jace would have been in awe, but his mind was numb.

He knew it wouldn't be that way for long. His mind protecting him from the confusion and anger that were surely there until such time that he could examine this situation without destroying himself. Privately, he was grateful for that. He was raw enough, almost too much had happened. Enough to bury him and he wanted it, to be buried beside Max. It warred with his newfound desire to live. Jace had a brief flash of seeing himself screaming, shaking Maryse. Of hitting the ground and ripping the earth. To dig Max and rouse him awake, demanding him to wake up and get to his feet. To laugh at the silly games the grown-ups played.

Jace shut his eyes tight, willing his mind to banish the prospect of madness. He sucked in a breath, too sharp to be heard, not desperate enough to be a sob. Alec, who now had to keep Isabelle upright, glanced sharply at Jace. Eyeing him as if he might have to do the same thing for him. Suddenly Jace was envious of Isabelle's ability to pour her soul out onto the ground. As if she was getting it done and out of the way. It was frightening, her screams ripped out of her, forced out of her hands. She attacked the ground, nearly fulfilling Jace's own fantasy and he was surprised at the vicious joy he felt at that. It was as though it was some kind of proof that they still had something in common. Because if they did, then they had real hope to move on. They had to. It was either that or madness. Jace flinched. He just figured it out. He wanted clarity, no madness, and nothing else to hide behind. Yes, he would let his grief grab him by both hands when the time came for it, but the time for denial and hiding was over. He had to face Valentine and most of all, himself.

They didn't stay long. Only Maryse stated that she would stay, saying she needed time to herself to answer to Max and Robert as herself and no one else. Jace had a vague idea of what that meant. Her grief was a language he couldn't learn. He gave a brief, but firm embrace before leaving. Jace, Alec, and Isabelle were gone before the smoke of Robert and Max's pyre's died away. They walked up the road, not speaking. Surprisingly, Isabelle could walk by herself. Only the sluggishness in her eyes gave away her state. Alec kept them both close to his side, a tight grip on either arm. No one was sure how long they walked for, only that the pavement was what kept them on the ground, and tethered to reality.

As they neared the shops, a figure came into view. Magnus standing there as if her had been there since the beginning of time and had been merely waiting there for them. No mere happenstance. Jace turned at the sharpness of Alec's breath. Alec's face was working quickly, as if woken up. Jace was surprised at the reaction. Not because of what it meant, he had eyes after all. He knew what had been happening to his parabatai for a long time now and was secretly pleased by it. Not even the intensity of the reaction surprised him, but rather something else. The loss maybe? After all, there was still so much he had to say to Alec, but would he have the time?

Alec moved forward, unable to control himself. If he had been looking at his feet, he would have stared at them in astonishment. As it were, he was too preoccupied staring at Magnus. The warlock appeared to have just come out of a trance, lost in thought, only to come out of it in time to see Alec coming to him.

Jace had the sudden feeling of deja'vu that he was going to say goodbye to Alec. Like stepping off a stage and waiting for the next act. Jace didn't want to see the back of Alec, not yet. Not when it was too close to Robert and Max's departures to see Alec go off on a much different one. He shook his head.

'Well it was going to happen sooner or later.'

He couldn't keep in the sigh; it left its mouth of its own accord. Alec stared sharply back at him, a guilty flush heading up to his face. It would have been funny any other time, but now it just reminded Jace of an often put-off conversation, one that needed to be had. Jace jerked his head towards Magnus.

"Go to him." He said.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. If you had any brains at all, you'd go to him and not look back. I'll be fine."

Alec blinked far too quickly, surprised and wounded. "I-I don't understand."

Jace clicked his tongue. "Yes you do. You look at him the way you used to look at me. Because it was safe and would never happen, so you wouldn't have to face who you are. But I know who you are and I can't-no won't face you for you. Do it yourself, because you shouldn't forgive me."

Alec scoffed. "Idiot. I already have."

Jace smiled, suddenly a bit lighter. "Then do me a favor-I know I'm a catch, but go after Magnus. After all, he's the one you love."

Alec blushed, stuttering so hard he couldn't form words and the image was so normal, so blissfully average that Jace laughed. His laughter surprised him, as clear and retrospective as the past, like stepping back in time. He was pleasantly surprised that he was still capable of laughing. He wanted to hang onto the feeling for as long as he could, wanted to see if he could keep laughing like this after everything was said and done.

Finally Alec regained his speech. "But…I-you. I've always-"

By the Angel." Jace exclaimed. "If that's how you want to play it-then kiss me."

For a moment, he wanted it. To feel Alec's lips crash into his. To form a violent connection, something only they could feel. If only it could help them through their grief. Alec stood flabbergasted, but Jace was firm. Alec had reached the breaking point. His parabatai needed something for himself, something as vital as air. It was the one thing that Jace reasoned, if he had any decency, he would do this for Alec as best as he could. Understanding lit in Alec's eyes and he rapidly shook his head.

"No I couldn't."

Jace nodded, abruptly smug. "See told you. You should always listen to your brother."

Alec didn't take the bait. "No. No, no no. What-your planning something aren't you?"

"Aren't I always?" Jace smirked.

Alec sobered further. When he spoke next, it was with great difficulty, as if he had sensed Jace's earlier thoughts, which was oddly comforting.

"There's so much left to talk about." Alec said.

"I know. We'll get to it later."

Jace wanted that moment now, but Isabelle suddenly lurched towards him and grabbed his arm.

"What are you two going on about?"

"I have to talk to Magnus." Jace replied. At Alec's raised eyebrows, he elaborated. "What can I say? Guy's popular tonight."

"Then I'll wait." Alec said. At Jace's look, he held up his hands. "I'll talk to him, I swear, but Isabelle needs rest."

Isabelle glared at Alec, who to his credit, did not cower at the sudden fury in her expression.

"Luke…er Lucien Greymark told us that Amatis Herondale had invited us to stay at her home tonight. So that's where we'll be." Alec gave Jace a significant glance. "We'll catch up with you there."

Jace gave him a mock salute. Alec and Isabelle turned in unison, silently making for their destination. Jace watched until they left his line of sight entirely. He knew what he had to do and was glad to feel the familiar sensation of a surety of purpose and the determination of fulfilling that task. When he got to the warlock's side, it was as though they needed no preamble.

"Well?"

"I've got an idea."

SPNTMI

As they crossed down the lane, Isabelle saw another familiar face. It was Aline. The recent fight made Isabelle's body automatically tense. Aline's eyes widened and she held up her hands in the universal gesture of peace.

"It's not in me anymore." She rasped.

"How-"

"Your brother." Aline pointed to the bandage on her neck. "He exorcised it. I'm not sure how, but he did." Her face worked with extreme emotion. "Thank the Angel for your brother."

Isabelle felt her throat convulse again, she quickly turned her gaze away from Aline. Instead falling on Alec, who also averted his gaze.

"Yeah exactly." She said.

As the subject of the conversation, Alec felt duty bound to change the subject. He cleared his throat.

"So…um, what are you doing?"

Aline brightened. "Well they're telling all the minors to go to the Accords Hall. Probably so they'll be found easily. They're trying to put up the barriers again, but I'm not sure that'll work. Want to come with?"

Alec was about to reply, but Isabelle beat him to the punch.

"No thanks. We're going somewhere else." Aline's face fell and Isabelle hurried to explain. "Not because of you, but someone else is expecting us. Er. Sorry."

Aline brightened again. "I see. Well, I've got to dash. Lots of relief to give."

With that, Aline raced in the opposite direction. Alec covered his throat, exchanging a look with Isabelle.

"Well…that was weird."

"Yeah."

SPNTMI

Amatis Herondale's house was right next to the canal, nestled between shops selling sweets and the other blades. The inside was cozy, almost grandmotherly and it reminded Clary of the movie, Howl's Moving Castle for some reason. She felt right at home.

'But don't get too comfortable. Remember Ragnor and Madeleine…' Clary shuddered.

Instead, she focused on the sight in front of her. The small living room connected to the kitchen, easy to walk through either. The living room was plushly carpeted and a single rug designed in red and tan triangles was laid in the center. Wicker tables and chairs were artfully scattered about. A couch, one that pulled out, as Clary was already told, was against the wall. It was already laid out and made.

The kitchen was kitschy almost, but had an air practicality. The stove laid on the same side as the refrigerator (which Clary was surprised a shadowhunter would even have.) and rested on the right hand corner of the warp around counter. Another table lay across the from the kitchen counter, serving as a divider for the kitchen and the living room. On top of it were an assortment of items. On the left of it was the pantry, its door open by a few inches. Overhead in the kitchen, crockery dangled overhead. It created a distraction of pleasant noise if moved. In the center of the kitchen was a circular wooden table; the vase of flowers had been hastily removed and put on the counter and extra chairs were brought out.

Despite any protests to the contrary, Amatis began cooking for all of her surprised guests. Who, Clary included, helped with the clutter. Amatis cleared space for the others to set down what little things they brought with them. Sam and Dean put their duffle bags in the guest bedroom that was on the left hand side of the hallway.

The two hunters were already seated at the table, exchanging with one another as Cas stood behind Dean's chair, seemingly unsure of where to be. Gabriel didn't bother to explain his surprise appearance as he gingerly took the seat next to Sam. Across from them Isabelle and Alec sat mute. The only information they volunteered was that their mother wanted to be by herself and that Jace would be by later. If he were here…well Clary could picture it. Him leaning on the counter across from her. Shirt riding up his abdomen, the dark plains of his elbows in sharp contrast to the white counter. He would smile at her, like magic and the world refit itself into place again. To stop herself from brooding, she asked Amatis another tactless question.

"Why are you and Luke out of touch?"

Deadly silence and Clary ignored the stares coming her way as Amatis paused before she pushed back her chair and left the table. Biting her lip, Clary knew she had made a mess of things. Isabelle kicked her shins.

"Nice. Very nice."

Clary made a helpless noise in the back of her throat. "I just-"

Amatis returned, carrying a small silver box. She sat down and Clary got a closer look at it. Embarrassed, Clary spoke up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

Amatis kept speaking. "This box contains everything regarding my, well my ex-husband."

Sam and Dean traded another set of looks as Clary, sensing a story, kept silent.

"His name was Stephen Herondale and he was the only man I ever loved. This box is all that remains of his life."

Clary peered at the box, leaning in to get a closer look. She wasn't the only one. It was beautifully crafted and perfectly symmetrically. It was entirely silver, decorated with slim twining vines and majestic herons. Clary had trouble tearing her gaze away as Amatis spoke.

"We met in school, as most of us did and we courted shortly afterwards. Since he was a good friend of my brother, who was Valentine's parabatai. That's how it was. Everyone knew everyone in those days, we were all connected. "She gave a bitter smile and continued. " And so we married quickly. A match approved by all. Since our father died years before, my brother was the one who gave me away. Stephen and I were happy and it was much too short. When Lucien was attacked by a werewolf during a raid and it all turned. His parabatai turned his back on my brother and so did I."

Amatis paused and when she spoke it was with difficulty. "I'm not proud of this. To my everlasting shame, when Lucien came to me, terrified of himself, and beginning for help-my love. I turned him away. I told him to leave my house and called him a monster." She took a shuddering breath. "I told him to leave and never come back." She trembled. "He didn't. I never saw him again."

Clary was speechless, but she didn't have to reply because Amatis continued speaking.

"I never saw him again. Until today that is. That is something I'll regret for the rest of my life. That I've never gotten to see him and always had to imagine all the things that could have happened. All the things I never got to say, that I thought I'd never get the chance to. Now I can." Her eyes were bright and her voice gained strength. "Which is why Valentine must be stopped. What happened to us shouldn't happen, or the way my brother was treated. The way Valentine and the other shadowhunters view the world is wrong. People are people no matter what, and no one should hurt each other because they want the world to work in a certain way. Valentine and his circle shoved Lucien and Stephen aside for that. When Lucien got bitten, Stephen's standing into the circle dropped. Because of me." She spat out. "Because I was the sister of a werewolf. It was deemed unfit that he should love someone debased by proxy. He was forced to divorce me and by next spring he was married to Celine. She was eighteen and devoted to Valentine, so she was more than happy to marry Stephen. She quickly got pregnant and I never saw Stephen again. When I head of his death, I tried to go to his funeral. I was turned away at the door. I suppose Celine loved him as much as I did, because after his death she took her own life, along with the child she was carrying."

Her story finished, and she looked up, eyes glassy as she finally met the faces that looked back at her. Clary bit her lip, searching for words, for comfort. She needed it just as much as Amatis and she swallowed heavily.

"I know Luke would be here if he could."

Amatis smiled sweet and slow as if she knew Clary's thoughts.

"I know. Aside from the size of my house, he and his pack are not here because they frightened the shadowhunters. I am ashamed of my people's behavior. So I've stopped fighting. I haven't touched a weapon in years. So I apologize to ask those that do to fight on my behalf."

"You don't need to." Sam spoke up.

Surprised, Clary turned to look at him. He was paler than usual and trembling slightly. Dean didn't seem as surprised as she was, and he clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. Sam gave him a quick smile and repeated his words.

"You don't need to."

The night came down steady and silent. Clary thought it was without warning, for reason she couldn't explain. Clary and Isabelle changed, not speaking. Amatis offered the girls her bedroom, stating that she would not be able to sleep anyway. After dinner, with only minimal rehashing, everyone decided to turn in early. Jace hadn't come. Not wanting to face anyone, Clary retreated upstairs and everyone else went to their respective corners. The need for privacy suddenly overwhelming.

'Maybe it's the threat of imminent death.' Clary thought. 'Last night on earth and all that.'

Isabelle had borrowed a nightgown either too tired or beyond caring to take a shower. Clary however did care, wishing for warm water to wash away all that had happened. She hastily glanced as Isabelle, who had begun to strip. Clary glanced away, watching out of the corner of her eye. Isabelle was pretty in a way she would never be. A body that was round amply curved at the chest and hips. Her bust was firm, filled out, and nearly spilling out of her bra. The way that had guaranteed that she would be ogled at. Clary grimaced.

'Not that I want to be ogled at really. Ok, maybe once in a while's ok, but seriously? Come on, so not fair.'

Isabelle's taunt tummy swung as she pulled down her pants. Not wanting to peep any more than she already had, Clary hurried to the bathroom, shutting the door with a click.

SPNTMI

"Flip you for it."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, come on man, sharing already sucks."

"What's wrong with sharing with Cas?"

"Nothing." Was said in unison.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We know nothing's wrong with you Cas. Dean's just being a tool-"

"And a pervert." Gabriel chirped.

Dean glared. To him, the archangel was entirely too cheerful for someone who had just been stabbed by his brother. Gabriel continued unhindered.

"Think about it, why else would he want to share a bed with his brother if Chuck's books weren't true?" he waggled his eyebrows.

Dean took one of the books on Amatis's nightstand and hurled it at Gabriel, who dodged it but not the shouts of "son of a bitch" and "midget douchebag."

'I should have let Lucifer stab him.'

Gabriel pulled a mock frown. "That's not very nice Sammy."

"Sam." He corrected. "And I'll go to bed with Gabriel."

He blinked, belatedly realizing what he said. Dean and Gabriel forgot to insult each other and began to snicker at the verbal trap Sam let himself walk into.

"Shut up. I just meant that you two would kill each other if you shared a bed."

Dean nodded. "Very true."

"I love my brother-" Gabriel began.

"I'm not sharing a bed with you either." Cas said.

"But not that much." Gabriel finished.

It took a bit longer to arrange things, with the addition of two others. Especially since the guest bedroom had only two beds, each separated by a nightstand. Each brother left their things at the foot of their respective beds. Gabriel and Sam on the left, the angel taking the side closest to the wall. Unlike Sam, he got himself under the covers. He gently arranged himself inside as Sam kicked off his shoes. Across the way Dean shrugged off his shoes and jacket, but did not get under the covers. Instead he used his jacket. Cas stood watching, tilting his head before impatiently gestured for him to lie down.

"But I do not require sleep."

"Dude, you're not a robot. Just try. Besides its creepy that you'd stand there watching when we're all sleeping." Dean gestured to Gabriel. "Look, even your douche brother is doing it."

"Stellar example."

As appeared to think it over before slowly sitting down and without taking off a single piece of clothing, lay next to Dean on the bed. He folded his hands on his stomach and turned his head to Sam, who moved to turn off the lamp, and said:

"I can assure you I will not be having sexual intercourse with your brother."

"…Good to know."

"-Ah!" A sharp exclamation of suddenly cut off laughter. "I don't even have to do anything!" cried Gabriel.

Dean flushed; glad no one could see it in the dark. "Okayyy. Everyone go to sleep." His own mind was buzzing too much to take his own advice.

"How?" Cas asked.

So quiet Dean was surprised he could hear it. For a split second Dean wanted to hit him for sounding so vulnerable, but then he remembered what he used to tell Sammy when he was little and couldn't sleep.

"Just relax. Breathe in and out. I know you can do that. Just concentrate on your breathing…and uh, think happy thoughts."

Gabriel snickered and Sam whispered something to him. Dean caught a snatch of the former's reply.

"What? He's my little brother. I can be mean to him if I want."

Dean heard Sam's irritable reply and imagined the face that would go with it. He felt such an unexpected rush of affection that he was surprised. It made his heart hammer uncomfortably as he recalled Amatis's story. He turned his head, watching Sam punch his pillow, the gesture so familiar that it made Dean want to run over to his brother and lock him in a box so that no one could take him away.

'Stupid. Tried that before and look how well that turned out.' He shook his head. "Besides, he said he needed to trust me. God, this is gonna suck, I-'

"Dean?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Dean pulled his gaze back to Cas to see that the angel was staring at him. Dean was close enough to see the exact depth to the angel's intense shade of eyes. He fought the urge to pull away. Cas was doing his staring thing, so definitively him that he was put at ease, despite how strange it was to be scrutinized so personally.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes." Dean cleared his throat. "Er…yeah, yeah fine."

"Dean?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"…For teaching me how to sleep."

The words were too small for what was trying to be said, what could very likely never be said. At least not to full satisfaction. For now the words as they were worked just fine. Dean nodded, silently mouthing 'ok' to himself. Strangely at ease and yet not. He was just glad that those blue eyes weren't staring back at him at the moment. It didn't help his buzzing thoughts. He turned to look at Sam again, and the one last reasonable thought he had that came to him as he finally began to drift off.

'Be careful goddamnit.'

SPNTMI

Clary pulled the covers up to her chin, body drowsing as her mind wandered at a strange pace. Beside her, Isabelle was still as stone and she couldn't tell if she was awake or not. The bed was wide enough that they could share it without touching. With a trace of sadness, Clary wondered if this was the first time since Stephen's death that this bed was being shared. For some reason the thought made her flush, tingling in a vaguely pleasing way. Clary had to turn inward, wanting to keep the feeling. She touched her belly, excited. Isabelle groaned quietly, shifting. Clary froze, shutting her eyes, and pretended to be asleep. The bed dipped again as Isabelle moved. If Clary had actually been asleep she wouldn't have noticed Isabelle get up and pad to the bathroom, and lock the door behind her.

SPNTMI

Sam stayed quiet hearing the slow breathing of sleep. The day had been frantic and his mind was still there as his body became sluggish with fatigue. The only other sound apart from the sleep breathing was a soft humming. Gabriel's tune was one he couldn't place, but the angel wasn't facing him. Sam wasn't sure how that would have made a difference, but he was curious all the same. He decided not to ask, it was too silly.

"So angels don't sleep?" he whispered.

"Nope." Gabriel shrugged. "I can see the appeal though."

"So you sleep?"

"Passes the time."

"Like dropping people in wormholes?" Sam didn't know what made him say it and judging by Gabriel's surprised laugh, he didn't either.

"Not as much."

For a split second, Sam envisioned them being friends and was oddly cheered by the thought. He tried to snap himself out of it.

"Why did you help us today?" he asked.

"I forgot to TiVo the L-Word."

Sam sighed. 'Typical. Every time I try to figure out who he is, he acts like a smartass.'

"Then quit asking." It came out somewhat peevishly.

"I would if you'd just tell me."

"Well I'd tell you if you didn't wanna know so much."

"Feels like I'm talking to Dean."

"Ew, don't compare me to your brother."

"Then quit acting like him and stop answering my thoughts. Its creepy."

"Good." Came the sulky reply.

Determined and knowing Gabriel would let the conversation fade if he didn't, Sam pressed on.

"You know I'll just keep asking until you tell me."

"And, I'll just keep deflecting."

"I can be just as stubborn as you." Sam had an idea. "Come on. You answer a question-honestly, then you get to ask me one and I'll do the same."

"Twenty questions?"

"Yeah, a game."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "What, am I, five?"

"Just a bit."

"Alright, alright. If it'll get you to shut up. Ask away."

SPNTMI

There was a faint tapping. Clary frowned. She had finally drifted off, a dream beginning to settle. Maybe Isabelle locked herself out? Clary groaned, stretching as she tried to rouse herself. Pushing off the covers, she couldn't tell where Isabelle was at all and awareness was starting to come over her as she got out of bed. The tapping came again and Clary jumped. If came from the window and when she looked at it, she almost screamed. There, on the other side of the glass, prodding it with his fingers was Jace.

Knowing it was him made the tension leak out of her and her shoulders slumped. Now that she knew who it was, there was no need to worry. Clary walked over and threw open the window. Jace shot her a grin as he clambered inside. It was a grin so familiar it made her heart ache. She felt like every girl in every love song as a boy snuck into her room in the middle of the night. When he straightened and spoke in a breathless tone.

"What, is it too late to use the front door?" she asked.

He smiled. "A little. What? Not happy to see me?"

Confused by his cheer, she asked. "Where have you been?"

He shrugged. "Oh an errand. I'll tell you later, since I've got something more important to say."

SPNTMI

"Favorite romantic comedy?

"…Uh?" Thrown by the question, Sam racked his brain. "Uh…the Graduate…"

"That's not a comedy."

"Yeah well-"

Sam shook his head, aware of the method of distraction Gabriel was employing. However that didn't stop him from answering anyway.

"Alright fine, it's The Holliday, but you're not getting off the hook." Sam found a question. "So what's Michael like?" he asked.

"Oh." Gabriel huffed. "Stern, grouchy." He smiled. "Well, not always. He used to laugh a lot, a lot more now that I think about it, when the four of us used to get along-" he cut himself off. His voice had a forcedness to it. "Ok, your turn. So I'm curious, who lost their virginity first, you or Dean?"

Sam sputtered, face warm, and he was glad he didn't pile the covers on. "W-well, I…uh" he cleared his throat. "D-Dean-obviously, but it wasn't as far apart as you'd think." He fidgeted. "Y-you said-" Sam cut himself off, trying a different tack. "Your vessel, how long have you…had it?"

"Oh? Well let's see, like ages. When I bailed and got to earth, you guys still thought Zeus was in charge."

Sam had a feeling he was paraphrasing, but he was interested all the same. Gabriel continued.

"And I found this guy in a grove and wham, bam, thank you man, I had a meatsuit. Well." He drawled. "I got it in my head to be a trickster. It sounded like fun, and I wanted to use my skills without anyone asking questions. I'd need to be something believable. Tricksters-real ones can do pretty much anything." Gabriel thought for a moment. "So how'd you met that girl? Ah, Jessica right?"

Sam blinked. "At a class." He cleared his throat. "We a statistics class, one of those ones that was for her major. She-she sat up a row ahead of me." He laughed. "I remember, because I was annoyed by her hair. It was really long then, and it was getting in the way. I didn't know her then though. Our friend Brady introduced us a couple of weeks later at a party. She made a mention that she was having trouble in statistics and I offered to tutor her. I just didn't think that she'd take me up on it, but she did and one thing led to another and…" Sam cleared his throat. "So…uh what happened to the real Loki?"

SPNTMI

"I love you." Jace said.

"What?" Clary gasped.

Jace waved away her response with frantic hands and she shut the window behind him.

"I know I said it before, but-" he ran a hand through his hair. "Just let me get this out while I still can. I love you." He repeated. "I love you more than I thought possible and more than I have any right to. I know. At first I hated everything for it, wanted to hate you but I couldn't and never will. You know, I don't want to love anyone else, don't even want to try-I've gotten nowhere when I did." Emotions flitted to fast to be named. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never loved you the way I should. At first I thought it was because of the demon blood." Clary flinched. "But it doesn't matter-really it doesn't, because I love you anyway. Can demons even love? Because I can, so now, I feel very hopeful you know. I can love, which is the best thing. Loving you is the best thing that's ever happened to me, made me a better person, so either way. …The only thing that I'll regret is that I did get to spend as much time with you as I wanted. That's what I thought before I came here, because we've never done this before."

He smiled. "Just once. Let's stay like this. Close our eyes and go to sleep. Even if it only happens once, you're the first thing I'd like to see when I go to sleep and again when I wake up. Pretend that we've been doing it our whole lives." He shrugged. "That's it."

He turned to leave and Clary's heart clenched in terror at the concept. His back, so broad, was the roadmap of his soul and she wanted to travel down it for herself.

"No." she cried. "Wait just a moment."

Jace paused, turning and the hope in his eyes was great enough that she almost cried out again. His body was graceful in mid turn, shafts of moonlight from the windows penetrating him, the illusion of angelic form made her shiver. It wasn't the way it glossed over his muscles of the way the shadows behind him stretched like wings, but his smile. It lit him up from the inside out, vibrating with life. She could sense his life and that brought out a rush of excitement throughout her whole body. She became aware, really aware for the first time that this body was hers.

Buzzing with intent. That this was wanted…no needed. The way that gravity is needed. She extended a hand, watching her fingers beckon as she walked back to the bed. She sat down, pulling the sheets back, the fabric alien to her over sensitive fingertips. Jace brought himself forward, leaning his face close to hers as if assessing something. Clary steeled her will as she looked her equal in the eyes, and humbled, Jace sunk to the ground. Clary sucked in a breath as his golden curls brushed her legs.

He kissed her feet. She shook as full lips touched her toes, soft and promising to be the same elsewhere. When he looked back up at her, she could see his soul in his eyes and only one thought came to her, an unexpected strain of music.

'Knockin' on Heaven's Door.'

He held her in place with a gaze tighter than the embrace she was longing for. Her hands were shaking.

"Stay." She whispered. "Yes stay please."

She could feel his smile as he rested his cheek against her leg. They stayed that way for a few moments, letting it wash over them, becoming a memory even as it was happening. Readying itself to reconcile with the past. Jace's hands moved upwards and Clary slid back to make room as Jace climbed into bed. He lay down with a sigh, as if to say, 'finally', he was where he belonged. As if led along by a string or a strand of Clary's hair. They scooted close, on their sides facing each other, the way plants yearning for sunlight, or twins in the womb. Maybe it was gravity or magnets, the way their fingers lay side by side, tips just brushing each other. It charged like electricity, despite not moving. Clary wasn't sure if she could sleep again, as she was aware of Jace beside her, of how her body was aware, screaming its nature at her. If they had countless nights, she would never sleep again, of that she was certain. As certain as that knowledge that she was leaving something behind-wanted to.

She swallowed, almost trembling too much to do that. Jace leaned forward until their foreheads were touching and he took his free hand, brushing her hair out of her face. The hot and cold went all over her face, like pins and needles. As if Jace had summoned them there with his touch. Her mouth was parched, tingling as if on fire. Her words tumbled like escape artists.

"Never be sorry." She panted.

Jace kissed her.

Better than she imagined. Better than the sick, fevered sensations in the Seelie Court. Lips softer and defter than she remembered. The action more deliberate this time. Their mouths moved eagerly, but it wasn't enough. Gravity wasn't enough. Sensing this, her body moved of its own accord, pressing into Jace's. However, it was languid, the slow burn of a candle after the initial matchstick's spark. She didn't care how dewy his lips were, his tongue was no intrusion to her and the press of his teeth was wonderful, their sharpness made a rumbling in her mouth. It was pulled out of her, her moan. It racked her frame, surprising in its urgency, snapping her instinct forward.

Her instinct brought out his, he pressed back against her, nearly crushing her and Clary gasped as the semi-painful sensation brought another tremble to her. Jace was pulsing and next to her, familiar in a new way. His lips brushed her neck, fluttering her hair and up to her ear. She pictured his lips pushing to form words, sounds curling around to fit her flesh's contours, suffusing them with color in the effort.

"Clary.".

He said it as if he had been running for miles, as if it was her name that filled his lungs instead of air. At the sound of this voice, a plummeting heat went straight to her groin. Her world began to collapse around her. Clary's hand shot out to grab Jace. He didn't need any more prompting as he grinded his hips against hers, more insistent with the motion. Jace mewled at the near-not-enough-ness and he sat up. At the sight of Jace astride her, her excitement grew. There was heaviness inside her and she glanced down at herself. Her nipples were hard, peeking through the gossamer night gown that lay against her in a way that gave more to her body. Primal and pleased that she had responded the way she always wanted to, gave another look at Jace. The way she could see his instinct, hard and distinct, waiting on her.

As though from far away, she saw her hands grasp his belt buckle and led the steady way her fingers unclasped it. She tugged his pants down. Jace's hands slowed hers, covering them as together they let his pants glide down and disappear like a magic trick as they pushed clothes aside. Clary leaned back, her weight on her elbows as Jace moved forward. He fingered the straps of her nightgown. She angled herself, shuddering happily as Jace's fingers hovered over her breasts before playing with them. She whimpered in desire as his thumb and forefinger squeezed and rubbed her nipples. He kept at it for a few moments before they descended, traveling past her navel, and pressing into her hipbones.

They branded her, so hot she shivered. It was a teasing touch as they brushed the silk, inching to the hem before tugging the material up and over Clary. She said a brief goodbye to it as it disappeared out of her line of sight and she watched her hair flutter from the impact of the fabric. He stared down at her for a moment, hand back at her waist and it took her a moment to realize that she no longer wore any panties. He was seeing all of her. She leaned back even farther, waiting and loving the effect she was having. Jace stroked her cheek, thumb brushing her lips. Then he moved like a ship sailing into port and Clary wrapped a leg around his waist as he let himself be anchored.

She couldn't help crying out. There was no question of where he was and for a moment Clary froze, unsure of what to do next. Sudden seizing pain wrapping around her, so sharp and overwhelming in its reality. She squealed, not quite wanting to believe in the pain, but Jace waited for a moment, letting it subside before he slowly began to move. Her next whimper transitioned into a moan as she moved in the same rhythm. At first the speed was easy, as they learned to match paces and Clary felt a slow build in her body, something dizzying and expanding, making her muscles shake against her will. Like someone dropped a bomb in her body, sending a fizzing in her atoms, the rippling inside her getting stronger.

Her throat began to ache as she couldn't control how her voice was beginning to get louder, ripping her apart in an effort to leave her body. Jace tried to shush her, and any words he might have said just became senseless noise himself, succumbing to his own vocals. It was getting too much and not enough. She lifted her hips higher, pushing harder, chasing the edges of pain that rubbed the edges of her nub. Her insides needing to go faster as Jace responded to her pace. Clary shouted out nonsense, not paying attention to the sounds, only Jace's name ringing in her mind, and found behind her eyelids. Clary's head bobbed up and down, the rest of her doing the same thing.

Jace's pace suddenly became frantic. His voice huffed out, ragged and as loud as Clary. She watched his buttocks move in a piston-like speed, muscles furious like some great mechanical beast. Clary's legs went wider and hooked over his hips, eager to bring down as deep as he could get, almost in despair when at the end. Need made her slam up and it continued to spiral higher. Her back almost completely lifted off the bed, hips still bucking as her spine started to go stiff. It went into one great shuddering movement, as Jace quivered and they tumbled back into the mattress. Jace thrust faster, heaving uncontrolled pants as he could no longer catch his breath. He broke rhythm, pace too hard to track, but it built up her own up as she began to shudder from the wet that was surrounding her. Clary was unable to contain herself as she felt herself meld seamlessly into his moment.

Jace's abdomen clenched in sudden violence as he abruptly stiffened all over, quivering inside her, his shaft vibrating with irrepressible, impossible to deny –paralyzed as his orgasm overcame him, shooting down into her and triggering her own. The force of it arched her upwards into on final impalement and rocketed her into spasms that felt like fireworks ad her body was overcome. Warmth filled and flooded her up. Her eyes rolled up inside her head as she gave one final cry.

Not wanting to give in or lose the connection, she grabbed onto Jace, gripping him tight as she rode out her climax. The aftershocks of one reverberated into the other, sending happy trembles into each other. It sparked the desire anew inside Clary, yet her muscles were too exhausted to do so. Jace gave one final thrust, a final squeeze before relaxing. He lay against her and to Clary, the weight was pleasant. He didn't pull out, but Clary liked that. That with every small move or hum of his body, and she could feel it.

She was exhausted now, but blissfully so. The option, the idea that she could be taken again was exciting, but a part of her knew that there would be soreness. She could feel it already and when Jace finally moved, she gave a small noise of protest. It was abruptly quieted by a kiss as Jace wrapped his arms around her. Like an unsung lullaby, something hung heavy in the air, but Clary was too content to pay it any mind.

SPNTMI

"What's with you and wormhole's?" he laughed. "Ok that's not my real question. What I really want to know is…" he sobered. "Why did you help us?"

"Go to sleep Winchester."

"No seriously."

Gabriel sighed. "Because I happen to like this planet and because I like-" he thought for a moment. "What I told Lucifer was the truth and I just wanted to get the record straight."

"Uh-huh?"

"Yeah." Gabriel snapped. "Don't believe me?"

Sam was too tired to hold up his hands. "Yeah, it's just nice to hear you be honest. Thanks for that by the way. I'm still not sure why you did it."

"What? Be honest? Because I can when I feel like it, which I did." He said it very quickly.

Sam smiled at the display, knowing those last words were probably the least truthful of the night. The archangel that reminded him of a rubix cube kicked him in the shin.

"Now go to sleep."

Sam did.

SPNTMI

TBC…