IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ!

Please open a new tab- yes, do it, come on, now- and open Google Translate. It'll make your reading experience far more enjoyable and less annoying. There's translation for all the non-English phrases in this chapter in the A/N at the bottom of the page- but trust me, scrolling down will piss you off after the second phrase, because this chapter might be shorter than the rest, but it's rather long nonetheless.

(You don't have to, of course, since Alec doesn't understand any of it either, but I'm the type of reader who would've liked to know right away so I'm giving you a heads up!)

02: Trinity

Alec stumbles onto Simon on his way to theGreenmarketon South. With hands stuffed in his pockets, back hunched and eyes intently following his feet, Alec actually stumbles, almost knocking them both over. Simon yelps at the contact, whirls around and almost smacks Alec on the head.

"Hey!" Alec takes a step back as Simon's flailing arms threaten with impact. "Careful!" sliding behind him, Alec swiftly grabs Simon's arm and locks it behind his back. It takes some tugs to stop the thrashing. The cursing keeps on going.

"Um." Alec lets go of Simon as soon as he thinks he can get away without earning himself a black-eye. "Hi."

Simon turns around at the sound of his voice and gawks. "You?"

"Uh. Yeah."

"I thought you were a hobo," he tells him. "You look like a hobo."

"Thanks a lot."

Simon grins guiltily at him. "It's because of the black outfit," he explains. "It makes you sorta formidable."

"You sure that wasn't the armlock?"

Simon waves his hand at him. "Nah, that I could handle." He shifts his arms so one is pressed close to his body, bent at the elbow and clenched into a fist, the other outstretched before him- palm open, thumb folded in. His stance shifts and his legs spread a bit. "I have awesome ninja moves."

Alec cocks his head. "Shift your weigh to your right leg and bend your knees. It'll give you a better spring."

Simon blinks at him but complies. "Really?"

"Come at me," Alec instructs. When Simon hesitates, he adds, "C'mon."

Simon leaps, fist aimed at Alec's lower stomach. He misses, of course, but it's a nice try. When the open palm comes to cut at his airway- Alec's almost impressed. He grabs Simon's arm, hooks his foot behind his ankle and kicks. He lets go before Simon's joints break. "Not bad," he says. "If you practice you can even be decent."

Simon snorts. His eyes flicker with a pleasant, warm color, lips twisting. "That a compliment?"

Alec is surprised to find out it is.

"What are you doing here?" he asks instead of replying, but scowls for good measure. Simon straightens.

"I was going home from Kirk's," he says, as if it's obvious who Kirk is, why Simon went there and where 'there' is. "I beat Matt in the Final Battle of the East and now he's stuck with an Orc-halfling."

Alec considers pretending he cares. He reckons it's not worth the energy. "You make no sense at all."

Simon shrugs. "That's because you don't have any RPG experience like any other normal person."

The conversation and the silence at its wake are an awkward affair neither desires, yet has nothing more to say in order to chase it away. Alec considers saying his goodbyes just to run away from it.

"Do you remember I had a favor to ask of you?" Simon finally asks, voice uneasy and face chiseled in hard, unforgiving lines. The smile fades. Alec is curious enough to nod. "Can you accompany me somewhere?"

"How far away is it?" he says instead of 'no'.

"It's on 116th." Alec tries to remember if there was anything dangerous around there and comes up blank. He figures there isn't supposed to be anything besides some oversized sewer rats.

"Why?" Alec asks.

"I have to talk to someone," Simon says. "I thought a Shadowhunter's presence would help me gain ground."

Alec nods. It makes sense. Only he's not a Shadowhunter anymore, and he doesn't know what use Simon will have of him. He wonders what kind of person Simon has to meet that a Shadowhunter's presence should matter; he doesn't think asking would do him any good, though- Simon seems reluctant to talk of the matter as it is. "Is it supposed to be dangerous?"

After a beat, Simon shakes his head. "I don't think so."

Alec nods. He wants to be cautious, but being cautious means accepting the weakness, and accepting is something he can't- won't- do. Accepting will make it real, and it isn't- it's remediable, temporary. Asking and prodding equals fear, fear makes you a coward, being a coward is what he was never born to be. It's something human. Alec isn't human. Not really.

Not ever.

"Alright. Lead the way."

They make their way to Bowling Green in silence, shuffling through the evening air, two shadows beneath the bright street lights. They board the subway and prepare for twenty minutes of sealed lips and averted eyes- both immensely surprised when they are able to hold a civil conversation when they don't have to. As they get off to transfer trains, Simon's eagerly telling Alec about Orc Wars and Youtube. Alec even gets to play with his phone- it's practically alive, purring like a cat when touched. Alec pokes it for five minutes straight before Simon takes it away. Their conversation is unexpectedly pleasant.

"What would happen if you get this 'virus' thing? All your systems would fall apart," Alec says as they get off the train. "You'd be left with nothing!"

"True," Simon agrees solemnly. "But that why we have firewalls and stuff."

"How can you have a fire wall in a world that doesn't exist?" Alec demands. "Do you employ warlocks?"

Simon laughs. "No, a firewall is a sort of protection against the viruses. Think of it as a vaccine." At Alec's confused expression he alters, "Or a protection spell. Not everything is strong enough to pass it."

"But you can?" they pass a jewelry store, a church and a deli, before heading to the old, beaten houses littering the street. It's alight with neon signs, bulletins and lamps, the occasional broken winker running away from its source along the road. The evening is surprisingly quiet in this area, and when they take another turn to a darker alley, even the humane chatter fades away. Their voices hit the walls and ricochet, a Ping-Pong of sounds that is slowly swallowed by the night. The walls are dark with grime, wry and aged bricks desperately hanging onto one another. The doors are made of rotting wood, the windows shut and the curtains drawn. The whole area smells of grey dolor.

They stop before two metal doors set within the ground, bitten by rust and disuse. In between the bars, Alec sees nothing but soot and darkness. The place itself is unremarkable, but it's missing a door. There's a sign above Alec's head, wood held by two thick metal-chains.

It says Hotel de Mort.

"That's awfully dramatic," Alec remarks as they descend. He drops on the floor next to Simon's fallen form. The dust settles around them.

"Have you ever seen a vampire that wasn't a drama-queen?" Simon gets up and moves ahead. Alec's hand shoots to grab his forearm.

"Who said anything about vampires?" Alec's hiss echoes in the small room. He grits his teeth before his voice cracks in fear. He scolds himself for being a coward, but doesn't let Simon go.

"That's why we're here," Simon explains, voice and expression befuddled. "That's who I have to talk to."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Alec demands, fear creeping up his spine with each elaborated breath. Now he knows why 116th rang familiar. It's where Jace and Clary went to retrieve Simon from. It's where the Central Nest is located.

"You didn't ask!" Simon replies. "Why is it such a big deal anyway?"

Alec can hear movements from the other side of the door. The rhythm is slow but even, two beats following one another almost simultaneously. Footsteps. "I am turning human, that's why," he whispers back, tightening his hold on Simon. It sounds real now. Far more frightening than the footsteps he can hear closing in.

"Since when?" Simon's eyes widen. He looks stumped.

"Since the Queen cursed me in her court."

"Why didn't you say something?"

Alec's eyes flash. His lips twist. He's not the one at fault here.

"Why did you take me? You knew I had been cursed!" he snaps. Simon's face crumbles.

"Because if I died you'd be the only one who won't feel guilty over it!"

There's no time for Alec to shut up and feel ashamed. There's barely enough time for Simon's anger to morph into indignity. The door blows open before either one has had the chance. A black shadow moves across the room faster than human eyes can register. Somewhere in the back of Alec's mind the I can resonates faintly, and the fear leaves momentarily in favor of displaced glee. The shadow's progress is silent, slowly gliding across the wooden floor as if it is ice. It is standing before Simon before either has the chance to move away or scream a warning.

Now that it stopped, Alec can see it's a boy, not much younger than he. His teeth are embedded in Simon's neck, eyes partially close. Dark, curly hair hides his expression, but it seems to Alec the vampire is half asleep. Simon gurgles, the scream stuck in his throat. He struggles, but his eyes quickly fog over. When Alec moves towards the vampire, a stele in hand, its eyes snap open- red like blood- and it jumps back, Simon's tender flesh still held between its jaws. Simon lands on the floor by the vampire's feet, the flesh on his neck torn, scream finally released. The vampire doesn't crouch to silence him; it stays still, frozen and locked by Alec's gaze.

"Quién es usted?" the vampire grumbles. His eyes are bright in the dark room. There's blood on his chin, dripping slowly onto his chest and staining his white pullover. He looks down, scanning Simon's paling face. His eyes narrow. "Rat-boy," he says, recognition flooding his eyes. The red fades to brown and he seems to wake a bit. Simon's body shudders and stills.

The vampire's eyes slowly shift to look at Alec. "What are you?" he asks. Alec gulps.

"I am a Shadowhunter." Before he completes his answer, the vampire is in his face. Alec's voice dies down quickly. The vampire before him is shorter- slight- but there's suppressed strength in his delicate frame. His eyes burn into Alec's, boring deeper than anyone has ever tried. Alec feels something inside of him pull. He can't stop himself from taking a step forward. There isn't much space left between them.

"Mentiroso," The vampire smiles. He's so close Alec can count his teeth. "You smell wrong," he informs Alec. "Not like the rest of you lot."

Alec doesn't respond. He is swaying on his feet, brushing against the other and pulling back again and again. A cold hand tangles itself in the short hair at the back of his nape, another slides up his side to bring them closer.

"What has brought you here?" the vampire's breath mingles with his own. It's warm, like the first gist of spring. He shivers.

"I don't know," Alec murmurs. He can feel his eyes dropping.

"Is he your friend?" the vampire whispers in his ear. Alec leans in. He shakes his head vehemently.

"He's dead," the vampire says, his words slur and shatter- their meaning lost. Alec doesn't know why it matters. Halfway through- he doesn't even know who the vampire is talking about. There's only the two of them.

The vampire turns his head back, looking at the form sprawled on the floor. He doesn't back out of Alec's personal space, and it's as intimidating as it is exciting. Alec can feel his heart failing, his blood rushing, sweat rolling down his neck. He never knew danger felt so good. It makes his whole body tingle, his muscles tense with the need to move. Move forward and in.

"Would you like to join him?" The vampire asks. His voice is nearly affectionate. He turns his head back and stares at Alec. Alec cranes his neck and Raphael's eyes skimmer over it hungrily. "I am Raphael. Cómo se llama usted?"

Alec remains silent, mostly because he doesn't understand the language, partially because he doesn't think it matters. Nothing matters but the heat.

"What is your name, ojos azules?" Raphael repeats, voice soft. His eyes are hazel. Alec can feel himself leaning closer still, pulled by something other than Raphael's hands. His chin rests against the other's shoulder, neck exposed right before the vampire's teeth. There's something enchanting about Raphael that he can't pinpoint, but it draws him in like a magnetic force. He can feel sharp fangs grazing the arch of his neck, a warm breath ghosting over his skin.

"Alexander Lightwood," Alec breathes out an answer. Raphael's eyes widen. The air around them turns significantly colder. Raphael's hands push him away, and he stumbles as far as he can without outright running. Alec feels as if plunging through water- finally out and able to breathe. The pheromones recede, taking along the burning sensation in Alec's gut.

Alec blinks, and with the motion, the spell is broken. He's trembling, danger playing on his heart strings, fury acrid in his core. He looks at Simon- Simon, Clary's friend - bleeding and still on the filthy floor. He moves without thought, realizing only later- when faced with the empty space Raphael stood in- that he's tried to punch him. "How dare you-"

"I am a vampire, young Alaxander," he says. "You should know we are fast."

Alec snorts. "You're also killers."

Raphael gives him a beatific smile. The expression doesn't fit his features. "That we are. God has created us so."

Alec's eyes narrow.

"You were God's mistake."

Raphael's smile flattens, but Alec doesn't get the satisfaction of erasing it completely. He seems generally amused by Alec's existence, and benevolent enough to let him live for the moment.

"I believe that in your current position, you are more of a mistake than I am." With that, Raphael springs on Alec, pinning his arms against the wall. Alec's stele clatters to the floor. Alec waits for the pain to bloom in his neck- for his life to end. He doesn't close his eyes, chiefly because he'd like to die braver than he's lived.

"Are you going to kill me too?" Alec asks, because it's rational to be at least a tad frightened, because he wants to know, because he thinks he should.

"Probablemente no," Raphael answers. "Your eyes are very blue," he tells him. Alec frowns.

"You shouldn't hide them," Raphael lets him go with a careful, measured step back. Alec doesn't know what sort of response such a statement requires, so he mumbles, "You're not killing people with blue eyes?" and hopes the whole thing will wrap up with just one body.

The vampire laughs. It's a surprisingly soft, pleasant sound. "I have learned that killing Shadowhunters brings nothing but ill luck- although you, boy, are not entirely a Shadowhunter anymore. I do not wish to anger your family- they are most unpleasant when irked."

"You would've killed Jace."

"I do not know who that is," Raphael rises an eyebrow. "Is he a friend?"

"He's the blond Shadowhunter that came to rescue Simon when you first took him."

"Ah, but that is obvious- I do not like blonds." Raphael's smile is almost charming. "And I truly do like your eyes, young Lightwood. I would have turned you have you not said your name when you did."

Alec believes him.

"Of course, were you a true Shadowhunter you wouldn't have fallen under my allure."

Alec narrows his eyes. He feels his cheeks heating. "I am a Shadowhunter."

"In spirit, perhaps. Not in carne." With that, Raphael gestures towards Simon's body. "We should bury him."

"Why do you care? You've killed him."

"Él es de mi propia sangre." Raphael strides to Simon's side, easily lifting his body. "He shall rise soon."

"What do you mean rise?" Alec's voice rings in alarm. "He didn't drink your blood."

"He did." Raphael smiles again. He looks so normal it's outrageously deceiving. "When your friend came to rescue him, he had already ingested some of my blood. Now he is one with the Night."

There's bile rising up Alec's throat. His heart falls and tangles with his intestines- a big knot forming in his stomach. His head swims with the consequences of all that has happened, guilt washing over him, entering every pore and imbedding itself in his skin. He aches with it.

Raphael looks at him with a glimmer in his eye Alec can't decipher. "Will you come?" he asks, but his tone does not match his words. It feels as though it was meant for comfort, as much as a vampire would know about such things.

Alec nods firmly. "I owe him that much."

They make their way out of the hotel and out into the cold streets quickly. Alec would've expected the journey to be gravely silent- an unholy funereal crusade- but it is almost cheery in the eerie sense of rebirth and renewal. Raphael's steps are echoed in his humming. It's a hymn Alec hasn't heard since Max's birth- Porque un niño nos ha nacido, un hijo nos ha sido dado murmured over and over, through dark alleys and illuminated sidewalks. Alec doesn't follow where they are going. His eyes are fixed on Simon's slumped from on Raphael's shoulder. The blood is still oozing from the wound on his neck, creating the map of Simon's life all over Raphael's shirt.

3rd avenue is surprisingly quiet, but they stick to the shadows anyhow. Raphael has glamour on, but it is weak and quickly dispelled with a stare. Vampire glamour is mostly a fleeting mirage- a one-glance illusion excellent in bars and dance clubs. Were they on the subway, even a mundane would be able to reveal the fragile cover if they were to sit and stare long enough.

So they walk.

They turn to 125th when they reach the Salvationists' community center, going on Luther King Boulevard, past Apollo and Burger King. They turn again on Broadway and walk along the bridge, the trains rattling past them without heed. Left on 145th and right on Riverside Drive, they finally make it to Trinity Church. By the time they arrive, Raphael's shirt is a lost cause and the night is a splotched ink stain above them.

They don't even have to put an effort into breaking in- the stone-wall surrounding the cemetery barely makes it to Alec's knees. He follows Raphael far into the heart of the establishment, heading for the empty burial ground.

"Do you happen to have a shovel?" Alec asks. Raphael barks a surprised laugh.

"No." Raphael puts Simon's body on the cold, synthetic grass. "I suppose I should get one."

Alec stays with Simon's silent form for the next few minutes. He wonders if he should apologize profusely or scream like a banshee. He really wants to blame Simon for picking him for this stupid escapade. Alec might not like mundanes or Simon in particular, but his whole existence is like his role in the family- protect and guard- and assuming he won't feel anything merely because Simon isn't his friend is idiotic. The searing guilt claws at the alien detachment he desperately tries to banish, the dissonance heavy on his shoulders.

Raphael comes back with the shovel. "You should've brought two," Alec tells him.

"I believe I am far more experienced in this sort of thing, blue-eyes." Raphael begins digging. "There's no need."

Alec scowls and drops on the ground gracelessly. The rhythm of the shovel hitting ground and the dirt thrown away makes for a surprisingly effective lullaby. When the time comes Simon's body is unceremoniously lowered into the impromptu grave. Alec can't look when Raphael begins piling the dirt on him again. When he's finished, Alec asks, "What now?"

"Now we wait," is Raphael's answer. "He should claw his way out."

Alec feels the sand grains of time slipping one after the other down to the other half of the hour glass. He counts them.

The ground ripples and heaves an eternity later, its surface broken and scarred with the effort of birth. The sound of it is deafening, like the scream of death and the cry of a newborn. Everything shakes, tombstones and trees trembling all across the cemetery. When a hand breaks the surface, the earth gives a final, heart-breaking whimper- and stills.

The hand claws at the surface, nails scratching and tearing at the grass. Raphael stops Alec from getting up to help. "He has to do that himself," he says.

Simon takes his time making his way out of the grave, but then again- it's a grave he has to get out of, so Alec reckons he'd cut him some slack.

When Simon's finally out, he's barely recognizable- brown with earth, crazed by bloodlust. He jumps Alec before even Raphael has time to react. He tries to bite Alec's neck but misses- leaving deep teeth marks on his shoulder. Simon roars with rage and dives in again. Raphael's fist stops him from draining all the blood in Alec's system. Landing a few feet away like a cat, the newborn vampire doesn't seem fazed. When he tries to launch again, Raphael pins him down with a single arm, a mighty growl tearing out of his throat. Simon doesn't flinch, instead, he tries to bite his Sire. Raphael gives another roar and slams Simon's head on the ground until the other stops struggling. When Raphael lets him go, Simon doesn't move, but his eyes follow him intently.

When a blood bag is thrown his way, Simon seems content to forget all about staying still and quiet. He drains the whole thing in a matter of minutes, his hunger immense and insatiable. The second blood portion seems to have the same fate.

"What are we gonna do now?" blood mars Simon's face like war paint. "We can't bring him home like that."

"He will stay with us for a few days." Raphael's eyes do not leave Simon. "He'll go home when he's ready." Inclining his head towards Alec, he continues, "You should go as well, Alexander."

"Why did I come in the first place?"

"Would you have rather not to?"

Alec shakes his head. He'd never trust a vampire enough to let them alone. He had to make sure Simon would indeed rise, if only for his conscious' sake.

"Will you tell me when he's ready to go home?"

Raphael blinks. "If you'd like."

Alec nods.

"Alright then. Run along, Shadowhunter, I shall see you soon."

Alec leaves with a single glance back. All he sees is Simon's red eyes and bloodied mouth. He practically runs away.

Jumping over the cemetery's wall, he runs, breathless, until he's back on Broadway. Halfway on his way back, he changes direction and heads for Park Slope. It takes him less time to arrive there than to gather the courage to knock on Clary's door.

She opens the door in green pajamas and bare feet, her hair a halo around her head. She seems surprised. Alec can't blame her.

"Alec?"

"I have something to tell you."

She blinks at him, still sleepy and very confused. "Is it about Jace?"

For once, it isn't. He shakes his head. "Simon."

A crease appears between her brows, he expression concerned. "What about him?"

He wonders if it's the sane thing to do to tell her. He doesn't think it is, but he reckons he won't be able to sleep otherwise. For once, he'd like to be juvenile. To be the guy that isn't mature, isn't the bigger person- who's not responsible for anyone or anything. To be someone who'd not care about Simon, or Clary and her feelings, or feel guilty over the fact he forgot all about dinner.

"He'd dead."

"No, he's not," is Clary's automatic response. Her eyes widen as her brain registers what was said. "What?"

"We were at the vampires' nest. He got killed."

She almost falls over. "You can't be serious." At his solemn expression, her eyes glaze over and tears fall down her cheeks. She doesn't even notice, doesn't make a move to wipe them away. "It can't be true," she whispers. "No, Simon's- he's not-he can't-"

"He's a vampire now." At that, Clary falls to her knees. She stares up at him for some explanation. He tries to calm his voice. "He ingested some of Raphael's blood when you went to rescue him after Magnus' party. After he was killed, he rose as a vampire."

"How can that be- wha- how?" Clary's voice is like the quiet before the storm. It's eerily steady, stuttering like her thought process but clear otherwise. "Were you there?" she finally asks. Alec nods.

"Was… did it hurt?" she asks with tears silently streaming down her face. She looks heartbroken. Alec doesn't know the answer, but assumes it's positive. He shakes his head 'no' for her sake.

"It was like falling asleep." Clary's sobs do not soften. Her skin turns red and blotched, but her eyes remain open. They are green and accusing. His words seem to have triggered her anger.

"Why didn't you save him?" she demands. "You could've, couldn't you?" her small frame is shaking terribly, like a leaf caught in a tornado. Although he's never liked her- maybe he won't, ever- Alec still wants to comfort her. To get the 'it's all gonna be alright' he didn't receive out into the night air.

"Why didn't you save him?" Clary cries out again.

Alec figures 'because I didn't have enough time to react' would not appease her, so he settle for "I tried", although he doesn't feel as if he did.

"Did you?" she shoots back. Her eyes are fervid with loss, but her words are sharp and true. Alec doesn't respond. Standing there like a salt pillar, he realizes it's the first time he's been responsible for death.

He bolts, Clary's tears and pain at his coattails.

x

New York is a mash of lights and people even when the night surrenders to the sun. The clamor is a permanent, semi-charming feature of the city, consistent and reliable like a heartbeat. Plundering through the streets, Alec is grateful for the pandemonium of clubbers, dog-owners and joggers filtering in and out of his vision. He blends into the background like he always has, small and unimportant- another hay in the stack. His feet carry him onwards through alleys and backyards. He sticks to the shadows and the walls, uncertain if he should even bother.

"Watch it!" a gruff voice scolds him. The man is about forty, unshaved with a skull inked onto his temple. The blond woman at his side gives Alec a nasty glare, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the sight of him.

"Brat," she spits. "Gosh, the kids these days can't even walk properly." Alec mumbles an apology for something he didn't do and veers away. No one seems to notice the torn clothes and the bloody shoulder. He wonders if it's because of him, or is it them.

He makes it to Coffey Park without knowing why. Green fills his vision, but all he can think of is Clary's eyes. He almost steps on a cat's tail as he walks on. It gives him a scandalized mewl and a glare. Its eyes are golden. Alec mumbles another apology.

A sudden, strong gust of wind and a crackle make Alec turn around. He runs into a firm chest and a familiar set of arms.

"It's been eight hours," Magnus informs him briskly. Alec keeps his mouth shut and body rigid. "If I'd known you'd get lost on your way to the market, I would have come with you." Magnus' voice softens a fraction. Alec looks up. Magnus' smile slips.

"What happened?" Magnus asks, a hand brushing against Alec's injured shoulder. He's noticed. Something tightens in Alec's chest.

"I killed Simon," he tells the warlock, and leans his forehead in the crook of Magnus' neck. "He's dead and it's all my fault."

"I find it really hard to believe, honey," Magnus tells him. His hold around Alec tightens.

"How do you know? You weren't there," Alec whispers without lifting his head.

"Because I know you, Alexander, and you'd never hurt anyone if you can help it." Magnus' voice is strong and reassuring. "If something happened to Simon, it's because there was nothing you could do."

"I wasn't fast enough," Alec mumbles. The hands on his back move across his skin in circles, rubbing in comfort with slow, deliberate motions. "I saw him coming and I didn't move in time."

"It's alright to fall short, sweetheart," Magnus' fingers twine in his hair, their movement soothing. One of his hands keeps on rubbing his back.

Alec doesn't think he deserves the coddling.

His head snaps up. "No, it's not," he says hotly and steps out of reach. "I have never killed a demon and now I have killed a human. Tell me it's alright."

Magnus' eyes soften. For the first time, Alec sees his age reflected around his irises, true and substantial- rumors and silly little stories banished. His gaze is steady, unyielding to Alec's words, his guilt, Clary's blame or the memory of Simon's life disappearing in fat, red drops on the floor of a remote hotel. The hands are back in Alec's hair, forcing his face up.

"Simon's death is not your fault, Alexander," he tells him. "You were not the one to kill him, and I believe he would have ended up dead with or without you there. You gave him a chance."

"He's a vampire because of me!" Alec's screech doesn't change Magnus' expression. "He is dead-"

"Undead-"

"Because of me." Alec's voice cracks. "Clary was right, I didn't do enough-"

"Now, get that thought out of your head, darling-"

"I could've saved him!"

Alec's eyes sting. "Could you?" Magnus asks. "Look me in the eye and tell me you could have saved Simon. Say that it was totally in your power to do so and you've simply decided not to because you just didn't feel like saving a mundie."

Alec heaves a deep breath and presses himself against Magnus. "I could've done something…" he murmurs into his shirt. It's simple and soft, cotton without glitter, something Magnus wouldn't be caught dead in outside of bed. It warms Alec's heart to know Magnus was in such a rush to go looking for him he didn't bother changing into something more glamorous. Or warm.

Magnus rests his chin on Alec's head. "You've done all you could, dear," he says over and over again. His words meld together; an alloy of sounds Alec can barely identify washing over his ears. The sweet sound of comfort lulls him into a false sense of security.

Morning dawns upon them, but neither moves. It's long before they make it back home.

A/N:

Quién es usted- who are you?

Mentiroso –Liar.

Ojos azules - Bright blue eyes.(Thank you Dann for correcting! *la sigh* here I was hoping my Spanish nickname googling were worth a damn; any suggestions for a nickname that has to do with, well, blue eyes?)

Probablemente no- probably not.

Carne- flesh.

Él es de mi propia sangre- he is of my own blood.

Porque un niño nos ha nacido, un hijo nos ha sido dado- 'For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given' (Isaiah 9:6)

If any of the lurkers reading this finds anything horribly, ridiculously wrong with my attempt at Spanish (I don't speak it, so the chances are rather high) please feel free to drop a note and correct me.

Excerpt from next chapter:

"Duck." Alec does without thinking. He's not fast enough. Something hits his shoulder. A spell like a wreck ball. He ends up on the floor again.

(You think if I offer cookies for reviews it'd work?)