She has this dream where Max is lying in the ground, in his coffin, deaddeaddead and then suddenly he's alivealivealive and he's clawing at the walls and the top but it's bolted down and he can't get out and he's screaming and he's crying and than it's her, she's in the coffin but she's alive, and she turns her head and-

She always wakes up screaming, but not quickly enough that she doesn't see her brother's decomposing body.

She's smart enough (selfish enough?) that she knows it's not her fault but she still can't ignore the fact that she had a duty to her brother that she didn't follow through with because she was supposed to protect him and she failed, and she's not sure if it's ironic or just really fucking cruel that the first time she's ever failed at anything cost her her soul.

In the day she's still the same old Isabelle, all smirks and curves and obnoxiousness and the only thing that the proves things are any different is that empty spot at the dinner table where Max used to be.

(One time Maryse put a plate down at this spot and it wasn't until the room went dead silent that she realized her mistake.

Isabelle has never seen her mother break down like that.)

She lives during the day, thrives during the daylight, but when the sun goes away the nightmares come out, nightmares full of coffins and dead bodies and being buried alive and decomposing little brothers and after her throat is raw from those dreams-turned-real screams she makes a vow not to sleep.

Alec comes in the third night to find her sitting up in bed, eyes wide.

(Staying awake doesn't always keep the demons away.)

She looks at him but he can tell from her eyes that all she sees is the brother she doesn't want.

(There used to be a time when Alec was kindofsortofmaybe jealous of Max for having Isabelle's favouritism, but how could he ever be jealous of Max? He would do anything to switch places with him now.)

She opens her mouth and he half expects a scream from his half dead sister but he's half right and half wrong because she half screams and half sobs and he's fully sure that he has no idea what the hell he's supposed to do.

(Isabelle was always better at this stuff.)

He opens his mouth and all that comes out is, 'It wasn't your fault, Izzy."

And because she's smart (selfish?) she nods and half screams half sobs, "I know."

He stands there awkwardly because he has no idea what the fuck he's supposed to do because he's not the brother she wants and he has a feeling he never will be again.

He half wants to leave half wants to stay half wants to cry half wants to yell at her and the world is upside down and inside out and there's no more rules, no more easy equations because his brother is dead and his sister is half dead and he's not sure what the fuck he is.

"Whose fault is it?" He asks and she looks at him but still doesn't see him and she shakes her head, in denial or confusion he's not sure.

They just look at each other for momentsminuteshoursdaysweeksyears and then he collapses, a heap on the floor, and she gets up and comes over and wraps her arms around him and holds him tightly as he sobs into her shoulder and grips her hard enough that if she wasn't a Shadowhunter and if she wasn't Isabelle it would have hurt.

He doesn't think he's ever cried in front of her before because he was always the one comforting her, and he's not sure if it's ironic or just really fucking cruel that the first time he needs her (to breathe, to stay alive, to stay above water) she needs someone else, something else, something he can't give her, and he wants to hate her but he can't because he needs her.

He's holding Isabelle and she's holding Max and maybe it's ironic or maybe it's just cruel that he'll never be enough for her anymore.

(He has this dream where Max is lying in the ground and Isabelle is lying next to him and Alec is alonealonealone and alivealivealive but he feels deaddeaddead but it doesn't matter anyway, because Isabelle is happy and that's all that ever matters.)