A.N-Okay, this story stems from three things: a strange and sort of sick fascination with Clary/Jonathon things that has started growing recently, a desparate want to know what happened between Jace and Jonathon, AND the excerpt from City of Lost Souls on Cassandra Clare's webpage. Um, I guess you don't really need to read that for this, but it would help for a few things.


"Go ahead," he said, leaning against the fountain. "I don't mind watching."

As he watched them move away, walking, dancing, kissing, he thought how interesting their relationships with each other were. Clary-what a disgusting nickname, for something so fine and elegant as Clarissa-was his sister, but he felt more of a connection to Jace (but he was Jace's master, bound to each other by blood and acceptance). Of course, Clary-(how he hated that name. He would call her Rissa from now on)-Rissa in a way was also Jace's sister, though she would screech and rant to high heaven that they were in no way related, and Jace would freak out and deny it with his dying breath. But they would be wrong (on two accounts, the first being he and Jace were one, and if he was Rissa's brother, where did that leave Jace?) The second was this: Didn't they both have extra angel blood? Didn't it come from the same angel (Ithuriel)?

But even though they were angels, they were on the verge of falling. For how could they not be on the outside of grace, in their situation? Because of his lies, they had sinned before God and man. And, Rissa had his blood, and Jace had his training. And, of course, he had both, and all of Idris had felt what a dangerous combination that was. Yes, Rissa would always be a Morgenstern, no matter what last name she hid behind. And Jace, always his son, brought up with his views, even though he lived with the Lightwoods now. They would always be his younger siblings.

She, his sister by blood.

He, his brother by adoption.

As he watched them, he was awestruck by by the golden aura enveloping the two. A pure, holy yellow that was the closest thing he would ever get to Heaven. He longed to touch it, them, to cover himself with this vibrant thing that pulsed with life and gleamed with beauty. But what was that he saw? A black stain on Rissa's aura, sometimes flaring red-with what (anger passion embarrassment)?-and then changing back to black. Ah, of course: only his daughter could have such a dark heart . A torrent of orange-red flickered through Jace's soul, but that wasn't so disturbing.

Jace was hard and Jace was tough, but he was also very broken, and he looked to them to heal him. Rissa, however, was strong and cruel and powerful, try as she might to deny it. Her soul, while seemingly so inviting, was really a cold, dark, hellish pit. How he would love to rip her off her throne of superiority and throw the truth in her face! He wanted to shake her and make her see. He wanted to beat her and make her cry. He wanted to scratch her and make her bleed, and he wanted to laugh at her pain, because it was so hilarious that someone like her would let herself be beaten by someone like him. Now she was a Morgenstern, thick and arrogant, though still untrained.

But, she was still his sister. He had to protect her. Only her brothers were allowed to hurt her; anyone else who did that to his Rissa would pay. He would go after them with a giddy, blood-thirsty vengence. Because, connected as they were by varying degrees of blood (demon blood, angel blood, biological blood), they could do whatever they wanted to each other. If Jace wanted to rip Rissa's heart out and stomp on it, he wouldn't stop him. If Rissa wanted to tear Jace's soul to shreds, that was alright. And if they ever wanted to leave him, he would let them go (but they wouldn't: Jace was in union with him, and Rissa would never leave Jace, and so would stay with him) because they were the only ones who could hurt him with impudence, and the only ones he could love with sincerety.

He supposed he craved their companionship, their trust. What had he done to deserve it? Nothing. But he felt like it was his right, to be trusted by his siblings. He loved them, truly, in the only way a demon can: wanting them near him, wanting to see them all the time. Sometimes, however, he grew dangerously jealous of their love. He wanted to do something that would ruin their trust in each other forever. But then they really would hate him, and he didn't want that. He wanted their trust, their friendship, their love. Why?

Because it could get lonely down in Hell.

Because demons were angels once, too.