I had a request from agentfandoms74 for a Scallison AU (Teen Wolf). I'd had this idea for a while, but it wasn't fully formed, and so this actually all made sense. Hope it lives up to your expectations, hun!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the title of the song, which comes from the Ed Sheeran song.

It was always going to end this way.

Maybe not literally in fire, but it was always going to burn down around them.

Clarissa Morgenstern breathed heavily as she looked over her shoulder. The fire was spreading faster, eating up the dry leaves of the forest and wrapping itself around the trees, destroying everything that it touched. She heard a howl of pain and her stomach clenched as she pushed off the tree that she had collapsed against, forcing her legs onwards.

She was meant to be at the Morgenstern manor. She was meant to be safe—or more accurately, locked up—within the walls of the family fort, and that was definitely where her family thought she was. When her father, mother and the rest of the Circle members had left the house, they had ordered her brother to stay behind at the house and keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't use her phone or computer, and definitely make sure she didn't leave.

Clary and her brother, Jonathan Morgenstern, had been fighting each other since they were both old enough to walk, and even though he was bigger and stronger, she was faster and used her smaller frame to her advantage. She also had a feeling that Jonathan was going a little easier on her because a part of him didn't want to stop her. He understood loving someone that the family didn't approve of, although not quite to the extent that they disapproved of Clary's boyfriend.

They never called together the Circle to kill bitchy Jeanette Lindor when Jonathan had been dating her.

Clary heard another howl, this one sounded closer, and Clary adjusted her direction slightly. The fire was picking up it's speed, and the smoke was starting to rise. It wasn't going to be long before there were innocents who were going to be at risk, and the fire brigade was going to be called to the scene.

She couldn't believe that her father and his team had made the decision to attack the Herondale pack so openly. The Circle was known for being efficient but also subtle, operating beneath the radar. They had killed many werewolves and vampires and magic users, but they were good at disguising the reasons why the kill had happened, so that mundanes didn't start making connections.

Although, maybe the fire would be a good way to cover up what they were doing.

If they killed the pack carefully—not using their guns—then they could use the fire to cover up the killings, it would look as though the fire was started and the pack had gotten trapped. Clary had no idea how many of Jace Herondale's pack were in the woods, all she could do was hope that Max Lightwood wasn't there—he was the baby of the pack, only seven years old.

Tears stung at Clary's eyes that had nothing to do with the smoke that was steadily filling the air.

This was her fault.

Her family had been hunters for generations.

They lived and died by the code that they killed anything supernatural—they protected the mundane world by eliminating the threat, swiftly and effectively. Until she was fifteen, Clary never questioned that code, because it had been built into her DNA, it was all that she had ever known. Her parents and her grandparents and her extended family and the Circle members that she considered family had told her since she was a little girl—before she could even read or fully understand—that werewolves were evil.

Werewolves killed.

Werewolves showed no mercy.

Werewolves had a never ending thirst and craving for the blood of innocents.

Werewolves were senseless murderers who would run rampant if ever given the chance, destroying everything and everyone who got in their path, and they would enjoy it.

When she was barely old enough to remember, a werewolf had broken into their home. The screams of her favourite aunt, Lydia Branwell, had woken her up. Clary had started crying, and she remembered her brother coming in and picking her up out of the bed that she was sleeping in. The screams had continued, and then there were shouts and cries joining in, along with this awful, low growling noise. Jonathan had only been eight at the time, and he had been rushing down the long hall, to the safe room that they had been taught to retreat to if their home was ever invaded. They had almost made it when the werewolf came charging.

Clary remembered it's red eyes, the way that it was staring at the two of them as though it wanted to eat them alive. It was an actual wolf, a full transformed wolf, unlike most werewolves, who maintained most of their human features. She was crying so much she felt like she could barely breathe, and Jonathan was holding her tightly against his skinny chest.

Three shots had rung out and Clary had seen the wolf fall down, bloody and limp in front of her, only inches away from her and her brother. He hadn't been dead, though. No—that had come when her father and his best friend, Hodge Starkweather, had descended on him, knives in their hands.

The fur had melted away, and a naked body lay there, dead and twisted, and that had haunted Clary's dreams for years.

It wasn't until she was fifteen that her brother had told her about the wolf that had killed her Aunt Lydia. He was one of the only werewolves in the world who had the ability to fully shape shift into a wolf. He had gone into hiding when he had found out that the Circle were hunting him. To draw him out, her parents and the Circle had murdered his whole family—his pack—including the children and the family members who were human, the mundanes—the very people that they were meant to protect.

No wonder he had attacked them at home.

That was when her hatred had first started to soften.

That was when she had begun to see the hypocrisy of their ways.

It was another year when she had met Jace. She hadn't known he was a wolf at the time, but when she had found out, she had already fallen for him, and him being a werewolf hadn't changed a thing.

They had moved to the city of Idris when she was young, not long after the werewolf that had killed her Aunt Lydia. Later on, she lamented that it would have been to protect themselves, but it was also because the township of Alicante, which was home to the Herondale pack.

She trained with her father, her brother, her mother, the rest of the Circle. She was fast and strong and hard and she still managed to hold herself with an air of grace and a sweet smile. She had a normal life at school, no one knew what or who her family were. Jonathan went to school as well, and he was popular, on the football team, dating a handful of pretty girls—including bitchy Jeanette, who was a cheerleader. She was doing everything her parents expected her to, being the perfect daughter...

But then she had asked her brother about the werewolf who had attacked them in their home when they were young.

And then she had discovered the cell under their manor where her family were torturing werewolves, sometimes for information, but other times it seemed like it was just because they derived genuine pleasure from it.

Clary had met Jace at a gym that she had started going to. It was almost a half hour drive from the city, and she had chosen to go there as soon as she had gotten her licence and her own car. She had known how to drive since she was nine, another thing that her parents had taught her in case of an emergency, but they still refused to get her a car until she could drive legally. She had joined that gym so that she could go to classes that weren't taught by her family, and to escape from them for a couple of hours a week.

Jace had been doing something similar, although it wasn't his family that he needed a breather from.

It was his pack.

It had all been innocent at first, they had been paired up in one of the defense classes because they were both so advanced, surpassing the instructors easily. They had struck up a bit of a friendly rivalry, which had turned into something so much more when he had almost broken her her, dislocating her shoulder and twisting her elbow back. Jace had expected her to tap out, to demand that they take a break.

But she had simply shoved her shoulder back into place—something she had done countless times before—and punched him in the nose, before continuing their fight. There had been a spark in his eyes as she had sprung back into action, and they had continued their fight in the bathrooms after everyone else had left the gym, Jace easily lifting her up and holding her against the tiled walls as they had kissed with the water streaming down their faces.

It had just gotten more intense from there, and soon it had been three years since they had started dating. Given both of them had such intense family lives, sometimes it was hard to see one another, but they made it work. The reason why it took so long for them to find out who the other was—what secrets they were hiding—was because they had both had such big secrets of their own that they didn't want to pry too much into one anothers lives.

Clary had realized that Jace was a werewolf just a minute before he had realized she was a hunter—or at least, that she came from a family of hunters. They had been in Idris, in a part of the city that Clary had been certain her parents or family would go to. Apparently she had been wrong, because she had seen her uncle and one of his friends, and it was a moment later that Jace had frozen and sniffed the air. She had been confused at first, but then he had murmured 'wolfsbane' under his breath. Maybe someone who didn't know what that was would just brush it off, but Clary's eyes had gone wide, and she had stared at him.

Things had been awkward for a bit, and neither of them had known if the other was going to attack and tell their family about the other, or if it was going to be something that just made them stronger.

Apparently it was the latter.

And that was good, because Clary was in love with Jace.

And he was in love with her.

"Fuck!" Clary cried out as her foot got caught on the sprawling roots of a tree and almost sent her stumbling. She regained her footing and paused to take in a few deep breaths. Then she heard a gunshot and Clary felt her heart thudding in her chest as she looked in the direction that the gunshot had come from. It wouldn't be heard from town, not over the sirens that she could already hear approaching and the crackling and sparking that was coming from the fire that was lit up in the forest behind her.

She changed her direction slightly, the ground underneath her beginning to change, turning from leaves and dirt to sharper rocks and sand. She knew that she was approaching the trench at the edge of the forest.

That worried her.

People had died at the trench before.

Generally it had been teenagers who were being stupid and drinking in the forest and got too close to the edge. There had been a couple of suicides as well, people throwing themselves off the craggy edges into the jagged rocks below.

If anyone fell off—or was pushed off—the edge of the trench and into the rocks below, the mundane firefighters could easily assume that they were running away from the fire and had just gotten lost, ended up running off the trench. If any of the werewolves did just fall down the trench, they would definitely be hurt, but they would be able to recover. But if her family managed to get their hands on them before they fell down the trench...

Clary swallowed hard and then she heard another gunshot, and then another howl. She stopped her running, to reach down and pull out her own gun from where it was strapped to her ankle, flicking off the safety and gripping it tightly.

She had used it before, and she had always known that she would use it again.

But she hadn't known that she may have to use it again on her own family.

The ground underneath her feet was completely rock now, and she had to be a bit more careful as she ran across the uneven ground, not wanting to do something stupid like twist her ankle. Clary could see the treeline ending not too far ahead, and she chanced a look back over her shoulder, and she felt the panic rising in her chest as she saw the fire rising even higher.

The red and orange reflected back in her green eyes, the fire not sparing one thought for the wildlife and forestry that it was eating up with crackles and snaps. It was picking up it's pace, and Clary could feel sweat prickling at her hairline, and her heart was beating faster in her chest. It wasn't just the fact that she had been running for almost half an hour, it was the fire that was catching up to her.

She had to reach Jace.

She had to reach his pack.

It was her fault that her family was going after them, and any of them were hurt—if any of them were killed—then she would never be able to forgive herself.

Clary reached the treeline, coughing a few times as she felt the smoke beginning to surround her and fill her lungs. She still clenched the gun in her hand as she looked around, the air beginning to go hazy, and she tried to figure out where her family and the Circle was, and where the pack was. She knew that she was closer, because she could hear shouts, and she could hear growls and snarls, and she looked to her right.

Stephen Herondale was the first one that she saw.

His eyes were glowing Alpha red, and there was something on his back.

Max.

Clary thought for a pained moment that maybe he had been hurt, but then she saw his panicked eyes look over Stephens shoulder, and she realized that he was just carrying the pup so that he didn't get left behind.

Stephen saw her, and he looked furious, and he was running straight at her, and for a moment, Clary had flashbacks to that night when she was a toddler, and that werewolf had broken into their home, and was coming after her Aunt Lydia.

And in all honesty, she wouldn't blame him.

When Jace had finally introduced her to his family and they had come clean to his father about who she was, Stephen had roared so loud that the windows in the room that they were in had shattered. He had only introduced her after they knew who—what—each other were, and Jace had said that his pack knew that he had been seeing someone, and it was only a matter of time before one of them saw them together, and they might recognize her. It was better for Jace to introduce her directly, and they could only hope for the best.

Stephen at first had forbidden for them to had anything to do with each other.

Jace's eyes had changed colour at that point and Clary had panicked, and obviously the scent of her fear had been strong enough to spread throughout the house. It wasn't as though the few pack members in the house didn't know something was going on, given how loud Stephen had roared, but it wasn't until Clary started breathing quickly, all the training she had been given through her life feeling useless, that a beautiful woman had come into the room. Jace's mother. She had been the one that had calmed Stephen down, while Jace had stood in front of Clary, protecting her.

Things had been rocky at first, but they had come to a sort of mutual understanding as time went by. Stephen had never been her biggest fan though, and Clary could understand that. Not only was she an outsider, but she was also a threat—a hunter, someone who had been trained from the time they could walk to fight and kill his kind.

He was just protecting his pack.

And right now—running from a pack of hunters, Clary's family, the very people that he had been afraid she would lead to them—she wouldn't blame him.

"This way!" Stephen growled out as he passed by her, and she blinked at him in surprise as she turned to watch him run. He was heading to the right of the direction that she had been going, which was directly toward the trench. Clary's eyes widened and she took in a deep breath to shout after Stephen, to warn him, but she just ended up coughing, the smoke filling her lungs. Suddenly there were two more figures coming out of the smoke, running toward her. As they came out of the smoke, Clary saw Celine Herondale, Jace's mother, and Isabelle Lightwood. Neither of them looked particularly surprised to see her, and neither of them slowed down, shooting past her. Then there was the rest of the Lightwoods, and Maia Roberts, and Jordan Kyle, and the rest of the Herondale pack.

Clary was still frozen in the same spot, though.

She hadn't seen Jace.

What if her family had already gotten to him?

There was a howl from behind her, in the direction that the pack had gone, and there were howls in response, from the rest of the pack. And then there was another howl, back in the direction that they had come from, and Clary stared into the smoky forest, ignoring the way the smoke was stinging her eyes. She saw a dark shape beginning to form, and when she saw glowing gold eyes, she felt that panicked, nauseous feeling in her stomach begin to fade.

"Jace!" She cried out, even though her voice sounded a little weak and scratchy from the amount of smoke that she was inhaling.

"Clary!" Jace shouted as he finally came into view and he skidded to a stop next to her. The hair on his face was course and his fangs were pressed against his lips and his beta gold eyes were glowing, and yet she wasn't scared. She had never seen him shifted before, but it was Jace, and she loved him, and the fact that he was running, the fact his entire pack was running was because of her.

"I'm so, so sorry," Clary gasped out, feeling tears pricking at her eyes that had nothing to do with the smoke.

"This isn't your fault," Jace told her, his own voice raspy. "We knew that it was always going to come to this." Clary tried to breathe in and control the tears that were beginning to cloud her vision, but breathing was getting hard. Then she heard shouts—shouts that she recognized—and Jace gripped her hand. "Are you coming with me?" He asked, and she could feel his claws pressing into the back of her hand.

"Yes," Clary didn't even need to think twice about it. She had announced to her whole family that she was in love with a werewolf when her father had confronted them after Hodge had seen the two of them together. She had knocked out her brother and locked him in a room to escape and warn him. There really wasn't any question as to where her heart was.

"Okay," Jace's smile was wide, but he flinched as a shout came, and it was a lot closer than it had been before. He listened, and the smile disappeared, and his grip on her hand was almost painful. Sweat was gathered along with forehead and his eyes burned an even brighter shae of gold. "They're close," he said. "We need to go." Clary nodded, and they turned, running in the direction that his pack had gone. Clary was fast—but she was fast for a human, she had no chance of keeping up with a werewolf. Jace was running slower so that she could keep up, but even she could hear the shouting of her family and the Circle getting closer, and the heat of fire was burning at their backs.

The ground underneath their feet was completely rocky again, and Clary knew that they were almost at the trench. She wasn't sure what the plan was once they reached it, but she trusted Jace. She was glad that she had changed out of the simple ballet flats that she had been wearing earlier in the day and into a pair of sturdy boots before she had left the house at a sprint. She could hear the shouts getting closer behind them, and crackling of the fire and the snapping of the trees was sounding dangerously close as the fire picked up it's ravage of the forest. Clary almost lost her balance, given she was looking over her shoulder rather than where she was running, and it was only when Jace jerked her arm hard that she realized that she was about to run right off the trench.

"Fuck!" She cried out, skidding to a halt next to Jace, her boots finding grip on the rocks beneath them. A few of the loose pebbles rolled forward, tumbling off the edge of the trench and to the jagged rocks that were at least fifteen metres below. Clary's breath caught in her throat as she looked over the edge and then to the right. The forest was burning, and Jace might be able to make it through, but she definitely wouldn't be able to. She looked over her shoulder again, back to the left of them, and she could make out her fathers voice.

"They went this way!" He was yelling, his voice barely louder than the sounds of the fire. "Come on!" Clary finally looked back at Jace, and he was looking ahead determinedly. Clary followed his gaze, which was looking across the trench, and to the other side.

Where Stephen was standing, his eyes glowing their Alpha red, his fangs dropped and his claws extended. He was looking back at his son, and then he glanced toward Clary, and gave her a small nod. There was a flicker of the same expression that Clary had seen when he had run past her with Max, and she was going to have to decipher that later, because she really didn't have time now.

"You need to go," Clary shouted to Jace, needing to lift her voice. "You have to go! They're almost here!" Panic had been lying underneath her skin from the moment that she had left the house, and she could feel it beginning to block her throat, just like it had when she hadn't seen Jace running with his family. "They'll kill you!"

"You're coming with me!" Jace shouted back at her and her eyes were as wide as saucers.

"I can't make that jump!" She cried. "I'll fall!"

"I won't let you!" Jace told her, and Clary's response was interrupted when there was a loud howl, and they both looked back across the trench to where Stephen was standing. Clary knew that the Alpha was waiting on them, needing to make sure his son—the last member of his pack—was safe.

"I can't, Jace," Clary looked back down at the rocks below and the icy claw of fear squeezed tightly at her stomach. "I can't do that."

"You can," Jace's voice was determined. "You're the strongest person I know."

"Clary!" Came a shout, and Clary looked back over the trench, and she saw Isabelle Lightwood standing next to Stephen. There was a desperate look on her face as she waved at Clary, indicating that she come.

"Jace, I—" Jace pulled at her arm, jerking her back away from the edge, cutting her off. He put an arm around her waist and without really thinking, Clary jumped slightly, climbing up his body so that her arms were circled around his shoulders and her legs were clamped at his waist. They had been in this position a hundred times before, and Clary knew that Jace could take her weight—she was petite anyway, and then he also had his supernatural strength—but it had never been in a situation where they might actually die. Clary took in a shaky breath, and she buried her face in his neck.

She could feel him backing up more, needing to take more a run up than he usually would since he was carrying more than just himself. When he started running, she felt the breath push out of her lungs, and she refused to let her eyes open. She felt him push of the edge of the rock face—she felt the tension in his thighs and the leap he made and the weightlessness as they soared through the air. It felt as though they were suspended in air for countless minutes, as she waited for that sensation of falling to come, but then his feet seemed to find purchase, and they were stumbling forward.

"We need to go," she heard Stephens rough voice. Jace put Clary down, and her legs felt shaky, and then Isabelle was at her side, giving her something that crossed between a one armed hug and a tug toward the trees in front of them.

"Clary!" She heard her father shout, and her eyes moved, back over the large gap between the sides of the trenches, over to where her father was standing. The fire was burning at full force—it was eating up the forest that Clary had run through for so many years, and the smoke was filling the sky. The sirens were closing in, and if her father and the rest of the Circle didn't start running back in the only direction that wasn't yet burning, they weren't going to escape.

The very fire that they had planned to kill Jace and his family threatened to kill them.

"Clary!" He repeated, and there was anger in his voice, but also confusion. She saw more people appearing behind him, including Jocelyn Morgenstern, who's eyes went wide with horror as she saw her daughter on the other side of the trench. A few of them drew their guns, with bullets that were made of silver and laced and wolfsbane—and would mortally wound any of the werewolves if it hit them.

They were prepared to kill Jace.

The man she loved.

Clary took in a deep breath as she saw Hodge lift his weapon, and then stood directly in front of Jace and his father. If they fired, they would hit her. She may not have an intolerance to silver and wolfsbane, but a bullet would kill her, just like it would with any other mundane.

"Get out of the way!" Jocelyn shouted.

"We need to go," Jace whispered to Clary, and she heard a rustle behind them, and she was guessing that Stephen was running, to join the rest of his pack, to ensure that they were safe.

"Clary!" Jocelyn cried out, and Clary felt her heart thudding in her chest, and the tears were back in her eyes. Once she had made this choice, there was no going back.

"Clary," Jace whispered again, his voice more urgent, and she felt him tug at her wrist. The tears started pouring down her face as she saw the rest of the Circle members crowd around her face, all of them with weapons in their hands, all prepared to fire as soon as Valentine gave them the signal.

"Goodbye," Clary's voice was no louder than a rasp, but she could tell from the stricken expression on her mothers face that she had read her daughters lips. She heard Jocelyn scream as Clary turned around, letting Jace take her hand properly, and then ran, following him into the dense forestry, undoubtedly in the direction of the rest of the pack.

She was turning her back on her family.

But she was following the man—the werewolf—she loved.

It was going to be hard, but she was going to be okay.

She ran.

Let me know what you think :)