Lacie: Welcome back to my strange world everyone

Chris: you got the strange part right

Clary: So how have you been?

Lacie: I am tired and mad and upset because of school.

Clary: Particular reason?

Lacie: No….. it's just…. School….bfiureiuvburbval *hate*

Chris: What's so wrong about school?

Clary and Lacie: *gasp*! HE KNOWS NOTHING

Chris: WILL SOMONE FOR ONCE EXPLAIN THESE THINGS TO ME

Lacie: *Ignores* Yeah, anyway, I'm sorry it's been so long, I hope you all forgive me, I really hope the last chapter was enough for me to go this long without updating, and really, I'm sorry. I've been reading all of your reviews though! And just let me say, I love all of the people who review, I really do, and I try to respond to everyone who I can, but some of you are only guests, so I can't send my love, so now I got all this pent up love that I gotta throw out all over this intro cause I have nowhere else to put it.

Chris: Thaaaaaat's kinda gross

Clary: TMI

Lacie: Too much information?

Clary: No, The Mortal Instruments. Which, by the way, you don't own.

Lacie: Sadly :C

Enjoy!

Clary POV

In Clary's dream, she was five years old. She didn't think anything of it though, it was weird how dreams were like that, something was off about them, you knew they were, but you dismissed them, like they were nothing. She was in a park, swinging back and forth on a swing set, her little bare feet digging into the sand underneath her that made up the play area. Her surroundings were distorted, the way they usually were in a dream, she couldn't see too far into the distance, because her dream consisted only of a few feet around her. The swings and a monkey bars attached to a looping slide. That was it.

She had her normal red, curly hair, and green eyes. She didn't know how she knew that, she just did.

The sound of rusty chains of the swing screeched as she went back and forth, higher and higher. There was no sky, only a black haze around and past what she could see, in which she thought she could see movement just beyond it. She was in a prison. Little Clary didn't mind though, she was fine, a prison wasn't a prison of you enjoyed yourself, right?

The swing was going so high, that her toes reached the top of the black haze in the dome around her. She immediately withdrew her foot; the haze was cold, and slimy, and she felt like if she went in too far, she'd lose herself. Despite that, she was curious.

She jumped off the swing, slowly falling, as if through honey, and barely felt the impact of meeting the ground. Stepping to the edge of her playground, she inched her fingers closer to the edge of the haze, tentatively at first, before she plunged it all the way to her elbow.

She felt nothing, just cold, emptiness, but also a draft, as if there was something beyond the haze. But before she could do anything about it, she felt a hand wrap around her wrist, tightening around it, so strong that little Clary wondered if her hand would be broken. It was strange that she felt the pain though, because nothing else hurt here. Clary fought against it, terrified that the hand would pull her through, into the strange and unknown haze, where she didn't know anything about, but the hand didn't, in fact, it seemed to be pushing her in, preventing her from coming further out of the black dome.

Testing her theory out, she slightly pulled inward, and found that the hand didn't release her, but didn't try to stop her from moving in. But when she tried to go out, the hand kept her firm in place, not allowing her to move out.

Little Clary was upset; why could she come in, but not out? Was there something better than her little playground out there, and someone didn't want to share? She continued to push herself forward, even stepping her feet into the fog, sticking her face in it, put the hand, gripping her still, shoved her back, unrelenting. Frustrated, little Clary was very mad at whoever this was, who did they think they were?

Suddenly determined, she pulled inward with as much as her mind would allow, yet in reality, it was agonizingly slow, like pulling something out of quick sand. She pulled until her hand was out of the fog, and she could see the hand around hers, and she squinted at the fingers clasped around her skin. Small, thin, pale, with chipped nails, like the person bit on them all the time. The person had callouses on her fingers, and on the pad of her thumb, as if she spent a lot of time drawing.

How did Little Clary know this? She didn't bother to wonder.

She continued to pull, and pull, until a whole body was standing right in front of her, and until she had finished pulling, Clary hadn't worried about who it was. Now, she stared at the figure that loomed not so much taller than she already was. White hair fell straight down her shoulders almost to her elbows. Her pale face smiled maliciously, black eyes slicing through little Clary's startled green irises.

No, No, Little Clary thought, or at least she thought that she thought it, it was so hard to tell. She's not supposed to be here!

The white haired girl leaned down, white teeth, pale face, white hair, contrasting so much to the black area around her. Her grip on Clary's wrist would have shattered her bones.

"You're not supposed to be here!" This time Little Clary knew that she was screaming.

The white figure laughed, a sound that was too familiar, too close.

To close to her own.

The white girl put her other hand gently on Clary's throat, her fingers feeling the pulse that would have been there.

"Oh, I'm not?" The girl mused, "Well then, maybe this'll teach you to stay put, where you belong, you've been venturing out into the open a little too much. Why don't you shut up and sleep for a bit?"

"I've been fighting you! I can beat you!" How did Little Clary know this? How did she know this figure?

The girl frowned, her features looking icily beautiful, "Now then, hasn't anyone ever taught you to respect your elders?"

Clary suddenly gasped, as the girl plunged her fingers into her throat, ripping it from the inside out.

How did she know this girl.

Because it was her. It was Clary.

She awoke screaming, her throat dry, and scratchy, as if she'd been screaming for some time now.

She sat up, immediately throwing the covers of the bed off of her, the heat too hot for her. Cold sweat rolled down her back and face as she gasped for air. Her hand went automatically for her throat, memories of her nightmare fading from her mind, but the terror was still there, but when her eyes caught sight of her own hand coming towards her, she recoiled, the sight of her own hand ripping her throat out disgusting her.

Clary looked out at her window, the sun's weak morning rays still stretching out across the navy blue sky, the stars still fading out. It was early, earlier than she had expected, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep again. At least not today.

Her breaths were still shaky, trembling in her chest before coming out, and she could feel her fingertips shaking.

What was that dream?

"Clary!" A persistent knocking came from her door as Chris's voice called to her, "Clary what's going on? I heard screaming."

"Just a minute," she tried to say, but her voice died out on her, the words barely hissing through her teeth. She cleared her throat and coughed slightly. "Hold up, I'll be right there," she repeated, and quickly got out of bed, scampering over to the bathroom.

She walked in, splashing water on her face to clear her mind and hopefully erase the rest of the images that still replayed in her mind, but they were foggy now.

It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare, she thought to herself, letting cool water spill across her hand, before splashing some on her face. As she reached up to grab the small towel that was on the counter, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, just to see if her skin was too pale.

She had been expecting what she saw usually nowadays; the strange whitish pinkish hair that was beginning to take the form of actual curls. She still had black eyes, but somehow Clary could feel them changing, below the surface, and what she could see was only an image to make it look like nothing was changing.

But when she saw herself, her heart damn near stopped. Just like it did the first time she saw her reflection a week ago. Straight, snow white hair cascaded down her shoulders, to her elbow, black eyes, real black eyes, inside and out, staring at her with malicious power. Clary blinked at the mirror, and her heart went into her throat. Now the figure in front of her had her red, curly hair that was barely past her shoulders. Her green eyes stared back at her, freckles splayed across her face.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the darkness her eyelids faked. Blood rushed from her head and she felt very faint. Ignoring Chris's calls from outside her bedroom door, she counted to three.

One, There's nothing there.

Two, It was just a dream.

Three, Please.

Black eyes, and straight white hair. And a hand reaching right for her throat-

Clary screamed, and the sound of glass shattering filled her ears.

Chris POV

Clary had been screaming.

The instant his mind realized this he took no time in getting to her, but he didn't just barge into her room, though he was holding back every instinct telling him to rip the measly piece of frame that separated him and Clary into firewood.

Standing outside of her door, he could hear the sound of running water, she was in the bathroom, probably freshing up or something. He was just considering whether or not to just go in, he knew for a fact the door wasn't locked, because he had been the one to put Clary in her bed last night in the first place, but he felt like he should give her the space. He wouldn't want her to come into his room like that.

Well, Sebastian mused, Depends on what reason. Even Chris couldn't help but smile.

Chris wasn't outside the door too long, but it was too long for what she said, and he called out to her, "Clary? If you're still tired or whatever then fine, I'll leave you be. If not, we could go and train or something-"

Clary's voice screamed in a way that made his warm demon blood run cold in his veins, and he would have been frozen had the sound of something breaking not immediately follow afterwards. Almost tearing the doorknob of the door, he practically flew into the room, eyes darting everywhere, looking for Clary. The bathroom. The water had been on, she's in there. He shoved his shoulder against the door and found Clary standing amongst a sea of broken glass. She was staring at where the mirror used to be, her hands limp at her sides, including one that was a bloody mess, broken shards of glass imbedded in her torn knuckles, black drops pouring off her fingertips, starting a pool at her feet.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, like she wasn't even there, something that he's seen her do plenty of times before, when she likes to slip away into her own world, but this wasn't normal. Her shoulders trembled, and upon hearing Chris break in, she slightly inclined her head toward him, but not before her knees gave way, and she would've had more glass in her legs had Chris not caught her in time.

"Clary, what happened?" He tried to shake some sense into her, but she only clutched at his sleeves, still staring at the broken mirror.

He picked her up, walked out of the bathroom, and set her on the edge of her bed, slightly unsure if she would teeter off, but she held. Taking her hand, he began to pull out the shards of glass in her knuckles, watching for a reaction to the pain she must have felt, but her eyes only twitched whenever he plucked one out.

Taking his stele from his pocket, he quickly drew an iratze, watching as her wounds closed up, and stood in front of her.

"Clary," he said, but didn't get an answer, "Clary, I know you're in there."

Nothing.

He sighed a bit dramatically, "Sheesh Clary, I know you're not that pretty and all, but was it really the mirror's fault you look like this in the morning?"

That brought her back.

She jerked her head at him, her eyes now focused and shooting daggers at him, her mouth twisted into a line, getting ready to say something back for his little comment.

"Excuse me?" she said, "I look exactly the same in the morning as I do throughout the whole day."

"Oh," he feigned understanding, "So you were upset with the mirror because you look horrible all the time? Still not a reason for breaking it."

Clary got up and punched him in the arm with her hand that didn't break the mirror. Yep, she was back.

"I do not look horrible!" she barked.

"Then I see no reason as to why you broke the mirror, you just bought yourself seven years of bad luck, you know." He chided.

She scoffed, "Oh please. That's only a superstition."

"All myths are only truths hidden amongst lies, superstition or not, it came from somewhere. Only a year ago, you thought you were mundane, and that vampires, werewolves and demons were all fake, look at you now, you're best friend's a vampire, your soon-to-be stepdad is a werewolf and your brother is half demon. Can't deny that there's a little truth in everything Clary." He smirked.

Oh no. Wrong choice of words, he should not have mentioned Luke and that vampire friend of hers. For a second, he thought that she was going to slip away again, and she'd get sad, thinking of her family.

Maybe she'll ask if she can send that letter now, he hadn't been kidding when he had suggested contacting the Shadowhunters in New York, if only to give Clary the peace of mind she deserved. But still, the gnawing fear that she would say something that could hint on how to find her rotted his insides.

But then again, how could she tell them anything? Even he didn't know where the house would go every time it shifted, so how could they possibly track them. Unless she told them where they were exactly when she knew where their location was, and they happened to know where the place was to be able to open a Portal, there was no way to track them and find them unless they personally marched up the gates of the Institute, and that wasn't about to happen.

He had worked hard to make sure Clary would enjoy herself here, adjusting his personality, which seemed impossible at the time, but whenever she was around him, it happened naturally. He created the magical cupboards where they could get whatever they wanted through them. (First of all, no, Clary cannot escape through the cupboards, because someone has to be outside of the cupboards, imagining where it is she would go. Plus there's magic preventing that from happening. Thanks for catching my flaw guys)He had given her art supplies, and tried to take her places to that she could enjoy her time with him.

However, all of his worries were for nothing, because she only continued to look at him with intense concentration, her hand on her hips, saying, "So all lies have some truth in them? Is that what you're saying?"

Chris internally sighed in relief, "Pretty much. But if I were to say, 'Clary is an impressive Shadowhunter' then no, that is a complete lie, no truths whatsoever."

Her eyes widened, and her mouth made an 'oh' expression, and she sarcastically laughed, "Oh, alright then, I guess if I were to say 'Chris is one of the most hunkiest, smartest, and talented guys in the world' it would be total lie too."

"That's because you're saying it wrong, it's not 'one of the most' it's 'is the most.' Now it's nothing but pure white truth." He chuckled as Clary tried to smack his arm, saying that she was going to take his ego and feed it to demons and then see how confident he was.

"Speaking of feeding," he interrupted her monologue, "It's barely dawn, but do you want to eat something?"

She shrugged, digging her toes into the carpet at their feet, "If you want to," she started walking off to the hallway, "But I'm not making anything, I refuse to make anything for you ever again."

"You're STILL offended by all the teasing I've made at your cooking? Clary that started like ten chapters ago, let it go." Chris mused.

She huffed, her pinkish tipped curls bouncing a bit as she turned on her heel and marched down the hall, ignoring him.

"I want to see what you can make." She announced, fingers trailing against the walls. She was kind of off, like she still hadn't shaken something off, but was trying to put it off. Chris made a side note to keep tabs on her if she continued to act like this.

"You want me to cook?" he asked incredulously. She nodded.

"Not unless you want your eggs burnt to ashes," he commented. He never did learn anything in the culinary arts.

"You can try pancakes," Clary suggested, "Or maybe make me a fruit smoothie, with cinnamon, or maybe some quesadillas, Mexican food sounds nice at this time of the morning, or how about-"

"Cereal it is." He cut her off, making his way to the kitchen to get a bowl.

Clary gaped at him, "You're not even going to try?"

He shook his head, "You know why? Because you just want to make yourself feel by making fun of my cooking."

Clary made a sound now of defiance, before calling over to him from the living room, "Cool story bro, now go make me a sandwich."

"You're getting cereal," he responded, not catching the saying.

Clary POV

One of these days I'm going to have to start explaining all these references I keep making because he's gonna be sooo upset when I don't…

Clary amused herself by flicking through channels, not really looking for anything in general, just to have something to fill in the silent air around them. She was waiting for when Chris would stop procrastinating and question her actions back in the bathroom, and what exactly happened, and why she did it. In truth, she knew why she did it, but how could she explain that she punched the mirror because she wanted to defend herself, from herself? Or at least, the white haired version of herself. She could no longer recall exactly what happened in her nightmare, bits and pieces that she had been able to think of were evaporating even now, until all she could see was herself, her own white haired, black eyes version of herself.

Her demon self. Trying to kill her humanity.

But why would that happen?

Isn't it obvious? Her reasonable voice thought, You're scared, so far you've been able to suppress Sebastian's demonic influence in your head, but you're starting to let yourself slip… Images of her and Chris, together, in Saudi Arabia, in the kitchen, under the moon in the Caribbean, swam by her mind's eye, being judged ber her own reasonable voice. How could you let this happen?

Indeed, how did she let this happen? At the time while it was happening, it felt like the decision was all Clary's, like she was personally allowing herself to do that, but was it really her, or…..

White hair flashed in her peripheral vision, and it took all her self-control to not lash out at the figure next to her. Chris, extending a bowl of Froot Loops to her, was behind the couch.

Calm down, she thought to her heart, which was pounding away like it couldn't go fast enough. Taking the bowl of cereal, she set it on her lap, bringing her knees up to serve as a table. Chris stayed behind the couch, leaning against it, "What are you watching?"

Clary glanced at the screen, "No clue, I was just looking through to see if there's anything interesting." A pause, "What are the cartoon channels?"

Chris gave her a look, before taking the control and pressing a few buttons. Spongebob Squarepants appeared in front of her, and Chris knit together his white blonde eyebrows, "You watch this?"

"Only in the morning, but this one's almost over." She watched as the ending credits popped up.

"What's next?" he questioned.

"I don't kno-" she was about to finish when all of a sudden a young girl's voice sounded from the tv.

"Water, Earth, Fire, Air…." Clary's eyes practically shot out of her skull as she had a fangirl panic attack.

"Aang!" she raised the volume on the T.V, listening as Katara launched into her monologue.

Chris laughed behind her, "Another show I don't know about?"

"It's not just a show! This series affected my childhood so amazingly!" Clary started a whole explanation on the show, not missing a beat, practically repeating what was in the opening lines of the show.

"So…" Chris started, "It's about people who control water, earth, fire and air? That's it?"

"That's it? Do you know how much I dreamed and wished, and hoped, and cried, and, and, begged, that I could be the Avatar!" Clary was ecstatic, "I blamed my mom, telling her that she gave birth to me at the wrong time, and because of that, my birth wasn't timed with the Avatar's death, that's why I wasn't the Avatar. I was so upset."

"Clary these people don't exist-"

"' All myths are only truths hidden amongst lies'" she mocked his tone from before.

"Okay, maybe I said that," he sat down beside her, "But that doesn't mean this," he motioned to the screen, "Is real."

"But, but," she pouted, "What if the people who made the show were influenced by a bender or someone, and they created this show to get everyone who had bender blood in their veins to be called to their original nature. Maybe it's a call to blood!"

"You really just want to be able to do this, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes!" Clary cried.

They watched the show together, it was one where Aang, Katara and Sokka were at the North Pole, and the fire nation was attacking. Yue had to sacrifice herself for the moon spirit, bringing memories and nostalgia to Clary's mind.

Writer's POV: I'm so sorry for anyone who doesn't like Avatar, or if you don't know what it is, but if that's the case, you should totally watch it. I always seem to be bringing some other thing not involved with TMI into this story into it, aren't I?

Clary watched as Yue became the moon, her spirit appearing in the sky. Something shifted in Clary's delight though. In the show, Yue is peaceful, as she floats away into the sky, but something in Clary's mind shifted. Suddenly, Yue's white wavy hair, turned into straight, white locks, swirling around like a storm in front of her face, which revealed black, pit, eyes, where Yue's moon colored eyes should have been.

She could feel her heartbeat accelerate again, as suddenly Clary's inner demon was in front of her again, and instead of going away into the sky, it was coming towards her, one hand outstretched, aiming for her throat.

In three seconds, Clary's mind processed the following information: One, that this was just an illusion of her crazy mind and that this wasn't real. Two, it didn't matter if it was real or not, she was freaked out and nothing was going to stop her from getting away. Three, there was a door behind the couch, it was hidden by enchantment, one that only Chris could remove. But Clary was Chris, or at least, she was Sebastian.

How this had barely occurred to her now, she had no clue, it was the instinct to survive that drove her to her limits, she supposed, but that didn't matter now. In her mind, she could almost feel her fingers reaching for her.

She tore out of there. Flinging her bowl of cereal to the side, she jumped off the couch, and almost screamed when fingers brushed against her neck. Going over the couch, she flung herself at the general area of where the door was, and pressed her hand to the wall, trying in vain to remember how it was done.

Just like that, a door appeared in front of her, and without looking back, without acknowledging Chris's screams for her, Clary bolted out of the house, and into who knows where.

Sebastian/ Chris POV

At first, he felt nothing. Watching as Clary opened the door to escape from their house, all Chris felt was numb. His mind playing tricks with him, saying that she was only joking, she wasn't really going to just leave.

Then when she was past the threshold, Chris felt cold. She left, she had just gotten up, and left. How long had she been able to do that? Did she know all along?

How did he not realize this. The door would only open to Sebastian, but Clary had his traits, why did he not realize this before?

Had it all been lies? Everything she said before, last night, was it all to get him to not suspect her, to not doubt her?

To trust her

Today. She had been acting strange since he first saw her today, had she been planning this? Was she nervous about escaping, and that's why she was acting the way she was? How ignorant of him, to not ask her what was with her, why she broke the mirror in the first place.

Get up! His mind screamed at him, she's getting away! Faster than humanly possible, he dashed through the open door, not bothering to close it. They were deep in a forest somewhere, that was all he had been able to check today. There wouldn't be anyone nearby to find them.

Sebastian leaped over fallen branches, the sky above him was much lighter now, dawn having passed by, the orange colors fading into the common blue sky. He ducked tree limb after tree limb following a trail only visible to him. Clary might be new to this, but she knew what she was doing. Her path was almost completely gone, except for a misplaced things here and there, the slight indention in the grass, the almost unnatural curve of a branch. She was running fast too, as fast as him, because he hadn't gotten sight of her yet.

What was he going to do when he got to her? He didn't know. Part of him wanted to grab her and hold her down tight, make her promise she'd never leave again. Another part wanted to do what he had promised her, that he would send his Demon Shadowhunters out to her family, take back everything he said about sending them a letter. That should show her that she should never double-cross him.

Sebastian smiled. No one would hide from his wrath.

Moving even faster, he ran until everything on the edges of his vision were moving blurs, and he could have sworn that he saw the movement of something white in front of him.

Clary, no doubt about it. She was running fast, fast enough that she could outrun him if she knew how to properly use his abilities. Reaching his limits, he pushed himself, urging his feet to move at a pace he only ever used to run away from a greater demons when he was younger. But that was years ago.

Now he had to use it to catch his sister.

Jumping forward, he wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing them both down to a tumbling halt, both of the receiving scratches and bruised from rolling over rocks and sticks. Clary was on the ground, laying on her back, and Sebastian was pinning her down, and she struggled against him. She even had a long scratch going across her forehead, causing more black blood to drip down. In other circumstances, he would have immediately offered to draw an iratze, but all he felt was white hot fury.

Clary stared up at him, her eyes wide, panicked.

Sebastian released his anger at her, screaming, "Where did you think you were going, huh? Don't you remember? I told you, if you ever left, I would attack your family! Don't think that just because we've been getting along I won't do it Clary!" He would hesitate, but he would do it, if only so that she would have no one else to look to for family. "I'm your brother! I'm family too you know! Are you that desperate to get back to them that you would just run through the front door? How stupid Clary! Clarissa!" You didn't have to run away to your family, you have me.

Sebastian could feel his black eyes burning with anger, anger at her, for making him feel this way. But then again, he wasn't angry at her, he was angry at himself, for allowing himself to feel like this. He was a demon, and demons don't have emotions. Then why did Clary make him feel like this? He'd been hurt before, but never in a way that he would release all his anger into words. "God damnit! Why did you run! Don't you know what I said!"

His inner demon told him to hurt her, make her feel the way he was feeling so that she'd understand. Her face was still an expression of panic, fear, and terror, all in one horrified mixture. She scared out of her mind.

That satisfied Sebastian's hatred. He rubbed his index finger over her cut, taking the blood and putting it on her lips.

In a quiet voice, one where Sebastian ruled entirely, Chris forgotten for a moment, he said, "Don't make me regret deciding to not give you a taste of the Demon cup."

She shivered beneath him.

That's when Sebastian shattered, and Chris resurfaced, he noticed that Clary's eyes kept darting around, and he assumed it was because she was looking for a way out, to escape. But no, she was looking in one general direction. Behind her, from the way she came.

She hadn't been running from him.

But if not him, then who?

"Clary," he said, his voice more gentle this time, despite his words from before, "What were you running from?"

Her eyes met his, wide and frightened, and in a whispery voice that shook his nerves, she said, "Don't let her get me."

"Who?" he asked, her eyes were closing. She was fainting. He shook her, "Clary, who's she? Who's coming to get you?"

Her lips hardly moved as she said, "Me."

Lacie: *GASP* more struggles?

Clary: Wait what?

Chris: I see what's going on

Lacie: You comprehend the situation?

Chris: Completely.

Clary: I don't

Chris: ….

Clary: well?

Chris: Well what?

Clary: Aren't you going to tell me?

Chris: Nope. Consider it payback.

Clary: But it's happening to me! I HAVE TO KNOW

Chris: Too bad,

Lacie: *Off to the side so that Clary doesn't hear* so there's not any confusion, basically, Clary's inner Sebastian is fighting for control over her, and Clary's gotta fight it. So she either beats it, or waits to see if the rune wears off, which, I have yet to reveal…..

Clary: LACIE TELL ME

Lacie: *ignores* Anyway, sorry again everyone for such a late update, I guess there's really no excuse, but you all know that unless the world ends, I will not just stop updating out of nowhere. I will either tell you when I have to stop, and if I don't it means I'm working on a chapter. But if it takes me a month, then worry. Cause I'm probably, like dead or something.

Chris: On that happy note, feel free to review while you're here.

Clary: Yeah, you spent your time reading this, so you might as well review!

Lacie: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

Clary : *ignores*

Lacie: CLARISSA ADELE FRAY!