A/N~ O.K. first F.F (Deep Breath) I hope you like it!

P.S~ I do NOT own any of these characters and any and all references to the books belongs to the WONDERFUL and AMAZING Cassandra Clair! However the creative idea for the story is mine and any and all changes or references to it must go through me.


He didn't know why he was here. He felt an immense pull toward this old house and couldn't stop his feet from carrying him to it. He knew he shouldn't be here, he had been warned but he had to know what was so important. He had overheard the boss telling another that 'This had to be done,' though, the reason why is what eluded him. This wasn't new to him, this situation, but it felt wrong to him this time. He had to find out why.

He should turn around and forget he was here. He should leave and never think of this moment again…but he couldn't. The house was devoid of all light as was every other around him. He studied it, taking in everything. He couldn't help but think that this was the perfect place to live, so warm and welcoming. The yellow house seemed to smile down at him and he felt a chill ravage his body. He reluctantly climbed the steps up to the porch and stood silently in front of the door.

He shook his head and let out a deep drawn out sigh running his hand through his curly hair. I shouldn't be here, he thought again but his hand took the cold metal of the door knob and twisted. The door swung open with a protesting creak to reveal a hallway and a set of stairs in front of him. He pushed over the threshold hearing the door click shut behind him and leaned against the door. He closed his eyes and took in a deep ragged breath. Why was he acting like this?

Out of the silence a blood curdling scream ripped through him tearing him away from his thoughts. He immediately pushed off the door and took the staircase two at a time not stopping until he came to the only closed door in the hallway. His hand shook as he placed it flush on the hard wood of entrance, it was open slightly, all he had to do was push and it would open showing him everything he wasn't sure he wanted to see. The door gave way effortlessly to his palm revealing the room inside. The only light was from the moon emanating though the windows.

He leaned in, not allowing himself to completely enter. The room was elegantly decorated with a Victorian scheme. A white four poster canopy bed centered the room with a matching night stand on either side of it and a dresser to his left. He finally mustered the courage to walk in and his attention was instantly drawn to the nightstand that held the only picture in the room. He started toward it but was caught up short when his eyes flickered to the right side of the room and held him there unmoving.

His hands clenched into fists and his jaw tightened. He knew instantly what it was and he couldn't bring himself to pull his eyes away. God how he wished he had just walked away when he had the chance. That opportunity was gone now. He aversely made his way around the bed feeling his heart pound against his ribs with each step.

He stood over the lifeless clump in front of him. Blood pooled on the carpet from her midsection, an array of deep auburn fanning at his feet. He had to admit, she was attractive and found himself bent over her gently rubbing the back of his hand against her cheek, she was still warm. He thought he felt her tremble but she couldn't have, from all the blood loss she had to be gone. He felt and incredible pang of regret run through him but then her eyes fluttered open and he instantly saw the fear in them.

"P-please," it was a weak whisper. "Protect her," she lifted a limp had toward the bed, "please."

He didn't understand at first but then remembered the picture that had grasped his attention just moments before. Her hand came up and squeezed his with a force he wouldn't have expected from a dying woman. Her eyes pleaded with him, begged him for his compliance. He nodded, unable to deny this woman's request. He felt partly responsible for what had happened to her, even though it wasn't his fault. There was nothing he could have done to stop this.

She let out a sigh and gave him a feeble smile as he watched the life drain from her eyes and her body go limp. He let her hand fall from his after brushing one last stand of her hair from her face. 'Protect her,' was this woman's dying request of him. 'Protect who?" he thought. Who was HER and could he actually do it?

He stood and made his way back to the portrait that had first held his attention. It sat snuggly in a metal frame decorated with lilies and rhinestones. He was careful not to touch it, he knew what ramifications that would have and if he were to complete the mission he had just been given, he would need to be free of this night. He studied the face behind the glass, committed it to his memory. This girl had red hair like the woman who's life had just been stolen from her and piercing emerald eyes. She was…beautiful.

He was suddenly thrown back to reality when he heard a creak behind him. Someone was climbing the steps and his heart leapt in fear. If it was this girl, he needed to make sure she didn't pin him to this or he would fail at his task before even beginning it. He stepped toward the window and thrust it open. The light summer breeze kissed his cheeks and held the sweet scent of lilacs. He threw a leg over the edge and took one last look at the body on the floor.

"Mom," he heard a sweet voice call from the hallway. He froze, hating his body for not doing as he commanded. He heard the footsteps near him, ready to give him away than heard a gasp. His head snapped up and met a pair of bright green orbs. She had already seen too much. He heaved himself out of the window landing gracefully on his feet like a cat and darted through the backyard. The wood behind the house being his safe haven now.

His heart hammered in his chest as he fought to catch his breath. The only thing he could hear was the woman's last words, 'Protect her.' He had to find out who she was and what he was protecting her from. He had promised, not outwardly to her but to himself, he would do this for her. He felt he owed it to her to grant her this one request. The girls piercing eyes resonated in his mind. He would protect no matter what it took.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way through the woods maneuvering his way back to his car. The shrill sound of sirens burst through the air sending waves of guilt through him once again. Once in his car he felt on single tear roll down his cheek. His breath caught as he realized that he hadn't become the monster he thought he was. He still had some ability to feel even if it was in the most minuscule measure.

He drove aimlessly through the city pondering, anticipating…planning. He had to find out who this girl was and why her mother was just killed. He knew nothing was ever as it seemed with his boss. There was always reason, whether he agreed with it or not wasn't a luxury he was afforded. He needed help and there was one person he knew that could get him the information he desperately needed.

He made his way through time square, the glow of the lights held no wonder for him anymore. They seemed more to annoy him now than anything else. He remembered thinking as a child that the atmosphere created by them was magical but as he grew and learned the ways of the world and that magical wonder faded. He was unmoved now, nothing made him feel. He could find disgust in even the most beautiful things.

He found himself in upper east Manhattan, his body knowing where he wanted to go before he had made the decision in his mind. It was late and he was sure that his presence wouldn't be welcomed. Magnus would hang him by the balls for this but he needed help and he knew this was the only place he would find it. He parked in front of a lavish old building and made his way in, nodding at the man dressed in a black tux that held the door for him.

His hands broke into a cold sweat. He quickly shoved them into the pocket of his jeans and took to the elevator, pressing the number seven. He blew out a breath and bounced nervously watching the number rise until he heard a ding and the doors slid apart. He stepped into the quiet hall and waited for the elevator to make its decent back to the main floor before his feet actually moved. He wondered quietly, unnoticing if anyone passed him or the decor around him. He stopped in front of the door labeled seven-thirty and knocked. To his relief it wasn't Magnus who opened the door but the one person he was looking for.

In front of him stood a boy with black hair all a mess from sleeping dressed in plaid pajamas. He cocked his head and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with a questioning look. He leaned against the door, sighed with a weak smile and opened the door gesturing into the apartment with his palm up and followed behind as both boys made their way to the modernly decorated living room. The black haired boy stood with his hands on his hip still with a questioning look and waited.

"Alec, I need your help," he looked up at the boy in blue plaid and sighed. The boy seated himself on his white sofa and rested his elbows on his knees, waiting, always waiting

Alright...I know, I KNOW, it was short...but bare with me...I've got lots to come. Idea's are welcome but I can't promise they will be used. Review

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