Work Text:
Even now, Simon felt uneasy walking alone at night, especially knowing everything that could jump out at him from the shadows. It didn’t ease his nerves that he was arguably one of the more dangerous things waiting in the dark.
But he didn’t exactly have a choice. He didn’t trust himself to go home yet, and despite the regular phone calls with his mum and Raphael’s hypnotism trick (which he had still been unsuccessful in teaching to Simon, and now Simon would have to find someone else to teach him) he knew his family still worried. He spent some days at the Institute, but he never felt entirely welcome there, particularly now that they were all so fixated on missing Jace and finding Jace and reassuring each other that Jace was fine. Usually Alec would lose his patience with him and tell him to leave or they’d be having one of those “we will find Jace” moments that Simon knew he wasn’t a part of, or Mayrse would make a snide comment about downworlders and Simon figured her children had enough to deal with without having to defend his presence there. Of course, he was always welcome at Luke’s place, but Jocelyn was there a lot now and Simon did not want to get in the way of whatever was going on there.
He’d gone to a downworlder bar one night, but a few of Raphael’s people were there and they were not very friendly.
The Dumort had almost started to feel like home. And Raphael… Well, Simon supposed they’d been friends.
There was no use thinking about that now. It wasn’t as though Simon would take it back if he could, because Jocelyn was awake, and that was worth it. Besides, most of the vampires had been dicks to him, so it didn’t really seem that different that they now wanted him dead.
More dead.
A man walked past, probably in his forties or fifties, and Simon felt the sharp sting of his fangs as he caught the man’s scent.
How long had it been since he’d last fed? Too long, he reckoned. He couldn’t exactly ask Shadowhunters to find some blood for him. He could just imagine the look on Mayrse’s face.
Simon stopped and half slumped against the wall, hand splayed against the bricks, trying to get the sound of the stranger’s pulse out of his head.
Raphael’s voice came into his thoughts, irritably reminding him that they were more than just animals giving into their instincts, that Simon wasn’t weak. He would sit watching him, with an air of someone who had meticulously practiced appearing so nonchalant. Or he would be beside Simon in a moment, hand on his arm, gaze so intense that for a few seconds, it didn’t occur to Simon to doubt that he was strong enough to control what he was. Thinking of Raphael was good, distracting, it took his mind off everything else for a moment.
He looked up suddenly- there was a foul scent in the air that pulled Simon from his thoughts and a flood of strength rushed through his body.
Demons. Too many to fight alone. He could just hide; there was no reason to assume that they were here for him. Besides, vampires and demons weren’t enemies as such, it was all dependent on the situation. Simon could just let them do their thing.
Except in his experience, ‘their thing’ was normally shifty and evil, and he couldn’t exactly hide whilst they could be terrorizing some innocent mundanes. Simon reached for his phone, but found his pocket empty. Typical.
He whirled around in time to see a large, dark shape hit him in the chest, pushing him to the ground. If he’d still been alive, he’d have been winded. His improved eyesight meant that he could make out the shape of the demon as he tried to keep its very large teeth away from his face. It was roughly human shaped, but with large talons on its hands and a jaw full of teeth, and he had no doubt about its ability to tear him apart. Simon had his own hands wrapped around the demon’s forearms, and though he was fairly sure he could rip a chunk out of it with his vampire nails, he didn’t want to risk letting go. He could feel that the demon’s strength easily matched his, and all it needed to gain was a couple of inches and it could sink its jaws into his neck. Vampires were harder to kill than mundanes, but Simon was pretty sure that it still wouldn’t end well if he let that happen.
He was weak. He had gone too long without feeding and he could feel the strength that had initially flooded his muscles fizzling away. His grip faltered and the demon took its chance immediately, biting into the first part of Simon’s body that it could. His shoulder.
Simon only remembered his death in flashes, but what he did remember was definitely worse than this. Pain was different now. Still bad. But more bearable, in a way.
He swore and tried to push the demon off, but his arms were trapped now and all he could do was scrabble uselessly at its back. His vision was becoming hazy, his head swimming, and even clawing at the demon’s skin was exhausting.
Just as he thought he was going to lose consciousness, though he wasn’t even sure if that was possible, the weight of the demon was ripped away from him. He lay on the ground, waiting for his vision to stop spinning dizzyingly. It was strange that he wasn’t gasping for breath or waiting for his heartbeat to slow down, responses which he still expected, and it always gave him the feeling of the floor opening up beneath him when he remembered that everything like that was over, gone, and that he was dead, however easy it was to forget sometimes.
Simon sat up slowly, tentatively feeling the deep wound on his shoulder. He was probably losing whatever blood he had left in his body. Only then did he think about the fact that someone must have intervened, pulled the demon away from him, and he looked up, seeing a figure grappling with it, moving fast, a knife in his hand. Vampire, Simon thought, the figure moving with a speed that even Shadowhunters rarely achieved. He used his teeth too, when the demon got close.
Simon rubbed at his forehead, a sharp pain beginning to grow behind his eyes.
When he looked up again, the vampire had driven his knife into the demon’s chest and pushed it to the ground. It didn’t disappear right away in a flash orange, like when Shadowhunters killed them; it flailed a little, made a low, guttural noise, before slowly dissolving.
He was about to thank whoever had come to his aid, but now that Simon could see him clearly, saw that he knew him (although that was really an understatement), he couldn’t think of what to say.
“How many times am I going to have to save your life?” Raphael asked impatiently, like there was nothing surprising about him being here, wiping black blood from his mouth in disgust. His jacket was torn.
“I thought you wanted me dead,” Simon said. It was a stupid thing to say. Especially as he’d spent the last week imagining what he would say if he saw Raphael again.
“Not as much as Valentine does, apparently.”
“What?”
Raphael looked away. “I can’t imagine that he’s very happy about his daughter dating a vampire.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Clary and I aren’t…” Sure, now that Clary knew Jace was her brother, and Jace was somewhere awful with Valentine, Simon thought maybe he had a chance, but even he knew that asking her out so soon after all of that was a little insensitive. More than that, there was something else holding him back, he wasn’t sure what it was, but the idea of being with Clary didn’t seem as right to him as it used to.
“Whatever,” Raphael shrugged, inspecting the sleeve of his jacket. One of the demon’s claws must have caught in the material- there was large hole near his elbow. “Eight more downworlders have been killed in the past week. It’s not safe to be walking around alone.”
He’d heard about that. Luke had been trying to persuade Mayrse and Robert to do something about it, but the Lightwoods were too caught up in the Jace situation to feel that resources could be stretched further. It hadn’t really occurred to Simon that he might be in any danger.
“Why do you care?” Simon clambered to his feet, wincing slightly at the new rush of dizziness and pain in his head, “Last time I saw you, from where I was standing at least, you were ordering my death. Did you want to finish the job yourself?”
Raphael looked over at him, not quite meeting his eyes. “When did you last feed?” He asked, with that strange combination of irritation and concern that he often used when talking to Simon, “You should have been able to fight that thing off.”
“I don’t know, a couple of days,” Simon shrugged. He didn’t really want to stay here talking to Raphael, not when he no longer knew where he stood with him, and started to walk past him, but Raphael stopped him, hand on his chest. Simon forgot for a moment that he had meant to leave. “How did you find me?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
“Okay, that’s kind of creepy.”
Raphael rolled his eyes. At first, Simon had been convinced that Raphael found him unbearably annoying and regretted turning him so much he might stake him at any moment, but he was like that with everyone. Besides, most of the time he was the one to seek Simon out in the Dumort, to go to Simon’s room, offer him a drink, invite him to vampire night at a downworlder nightclub, and there would be no reason to do that if he didn’t somewhat enjoy having Simon around. Of course, that was before Simon went behind his back, endangering the clan and betraying Raphael’s trust.
“You’re hurt,” Raphael said, his tone suddenly detached, losing that edge that had become familiar to Simon, “If you don’t get something to drink, you’ll be good for nothing, and all the efforts I’ve gone through to save you would be worthless.”
“I can’t exactly go to the store and pick up a pint of blood.”
Raphael shook his head and stepped away. Strange, Simon thought, that he hadn’t noticed before how natural it had become to be so close to Raphael, to be touching him, to take up each other’s space. He’d only ever had that sort of casual, easy intimacy with Clary, and they’d been friends for years. He’d known Raphael for just a few weeks, and already it felt natural to be close to him, to be so near to him that, if they’d been alive, he’d have been able to feel Raphael’s breath.
Now that Raphael had stepped away, Simon was all too aware of the gap between them, of the fact that he was to blame for this distance, for ruining whatever it was that they’d had, or could have had. His head seemed to throb worse now that he didn’t have the distraction of Raphael’s hand on his chest.
“You still have so much to learn,” Raphael said after a few moments. He hesitated, seemed to be considering his next words carefully. “Come with me. There’s a bar nearby. No one will attack you if you’re with me.”
“Why would you- after what happened, surely you-”
“Can’t you just accept my help?”
“Yeah, not really,” Simon said, immediately regretting it. “After what happened last time I- I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were just luring me somewhere to kill me.” Though, Simon had to admit, it would have been much easier for Raphael if he simply stood by and let the demon tear him to shreds. If he’d been following him, he would have had plenty of opportunities to attack him over the past few days, and he hadn’t.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Raphael said, tilting his head to the side, “And I just saved you from being mauled by a demon, you could at least be grateful.”
He was right, Simon knew that, and not just about this. Raphael had done so much for him, and Simon had done nothing but take advantage of his trust and turn against him. He’d never even properly thanked him for saving him from Camille. He’d been trying to smother that guilt, but now that Raphael was in front of him again it hit him with full force. But why, after Simon’s betrayal, would Raphael care so much about saving his life that he would follow him, fight off a demon for him? Why hadn’t he just left once he was sure that Simon wasn’t in any immediate danger? Simon knew Raphael pretty well, at least he thought he did, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he cared, enough to not be able to just let him walk around the city alone when Valentine wanted downworlders dead.
There was a shift in Raphael’s expression, his eyebrows drawing together, and Simon realised he probably should have said something. “Surely you should know by now that starving yourself isn’t going to fix anything?”
“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” Simon said indignantly. Raphael sighed and pulled on his arm to get him to follow as he began walking down the street. He wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to move much faster without collapsing. “If you wanna ask Robert Lightwood for a bag of blood, be my guest.”
“You still don’t get it do you?” Raphael said wearily, “You’re not one of them, and you never will be. You belong with us, Simon, our people stick together.” There was so much in the way he spoke that made Simon’s head whirl, beyond the dizzying effects of thirst. He was disappointed, that much was obvious, and though Simon was ashamed, he also couldn't help but feel a rush of pride that Raphael had expected better of him, had wanted him to stick around. And his expression- obviously Raphael was good looking, in a way that made Simon feel overly conscious of what his own face was doing, and how he was moving, and often made him incapable of forming intelligent sentences- had that strange intensity it always had when he talked about his clan, his family, so that despite his efforts to have a casual detachment to most things, it was clear that he would do anything for them, and not just for his own power, and Simon- well, he supposed he admired him for that. At least, he couldn’t think of what else to name what he felt what Raphael talked like this.
Simon shook his head. It was stupid that he had to pick sides, that he had to choose who to stand with and walk away from everything else, from the world he’d known before. “Clary’s been my best friend-”
“Clary Fairchild is a Shadowhunter. And Shadowhunters never want the night children as allies unless they can get something from us. You saw the ease with which they killed my people when they attacked the Dumort.” There was so much hate behind his words that Simon was certain there had been other times, and wondered whether this was what lay before him, whether the years would fill him with cynicism as they had Raphael, so that trust was given sparingly in fear of somehow angering the Clave. It was easy to see why there was so much hate in the downworld, always made even more starkly apparent by the clarity of Raphael’s damning words against Nephilim, because he was right, they did take the law entirely into their own hands, and he’d seen far too often that downworlders were expendable.
They turned a corner, and Simon saw the bar up ahead. It was a small place, not somewhere he’d been to before, but downworlder bars were always easy to spot if you knew what you were looking for. “Look, Raphael,” Simon said cautiously. At one point he had been fairly undaunted when speaking with him, because he’d been certain that there was nothing he could say that would piss Raphael off enough to actually stake him, but now he wasn’t so sure. “You’ve got your family, and I get that you want to protect them, but I’ve got my family too. I don’t just mean my mum and sister- Clary and I have stood by each other through everything. She’s just trying to do the right thing.”
Raphael stopped walking and stepped in front of Simon. “You and Clary endangered us all by releasing Camille. She could be anywhere now. Camille causes trouble and she’s never the one to suffer for it, and she will bring danger to our people again, as she always does, and that’s on you.” He pursed his lips and looked away for a moment. “I only ever asked for your loyalty, Simon.”
There was nothing he could say to begin to apologise, and he knew that it would be a lie, even if he did try and say that he was sorry. As much as he hated disappointing Raphael, hurting him, he didn’t want to just stand back whilst his friends did everything they could to protect the shadow world. Besides, this argument was only making him feel more nauseous. “Why did you save me tonight then? You must have a reason.”
Raphael’s eyes rested on Simon’s face for a moment, before flicking to his shoulder, which was aching uncomfortably. “You really need to get something to drink,” He said, and started walking off again. Simon rushed to catch up with him, but his legs felt heavy and it was more of an effort than it should have been. He was sure he heard him mutter something about the stupidity of fledgelings, but he supposed it might have also been a comment specifically about Simon’s own brand of poor decision making.
“Raphael,” Simon said, as they paused outside the bar. Raphael raised his eyebrows slightly, waiting for Simon to speak. “Thanks. For a vampire, you’re a pretty good guy. When you’re not trying to kill me.”
“Maybe if you listened to me, that wouldn’t have to happen so often,” Raphael said, after a moment of looking sort of shocked that Simon had actually thanked him. It had been a strange expression to see on him. “And don’t go walking around alone, I’m really getting sick of getting my jackets ruined when I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t think I can really be blamed this time.” Raphael didn’t look convinced. “Anyway,” Simon gestured towards the door, “Shall we…”
“If we wait much longer, I’ll have to carry you in,” Raphael muttered, holding the door open for him. And Simon wasn’t exactly an expert, but he realised with a jolt- it was a sensation like missing a step on a flight of stairs, or of misplacing something he’d been holding just a moment before- that it sounded very much like he was flirting with him. Even more surprising- Simon really didn’t mind. Not at all.