(WARNING: slightly disturbing dream sequence. Involves child abuse.)

Shiloh always knew, somewhere in her mind, that these were just dreams - or, well, memories masquerading as dreams. She'd gotten them almost every night since her father had died; it was like every horrible memory of him came back, all at once, which made it harder for her to remember the good about him while she was awake.

She had loved her father - she still did. It was just hard, sometimes, when you didn't particularly know which side of your father was going to come home at night.

Shiloh was smaller in this dream; she could tell by the way her head didn't even reach the cabinets in the kitchen. She had been a shrimp up until she turned thirteen or so - she spent most of her life under five feet tall, which was hilarious because both of her closest friends - the Bellefleurs - and her father were quite tall.

Her father stood in at over six feet, and he loomed over her as she tried to shrink into herself in order to stay as far away from him as she possibly could. Her lower lip was numb and there was blood dripping from her nose and chin already; she didn't want any more damage done.

"Daddy, please, quit it," a tiny, squeakier version of her voice came out of her mouth, begging her dad to stop.

He didn't.

"Demon!" he roared, drawing his fist back and slamming it across her cheek, knocking her head back against the wooden bar of their kitchen. "My daughter died in the fire! What are you and where is my wife?!"

Shiloh let out a few gasping sobs, placing her hand on her already-swelling cheek. "Mama died in the fire; I'm not a demon! Please stop, Daddy!"

"Shut up! You liar!" snarled her father as he drew his hand back to slap her once more. "Ashlyn isn't dead! You're dead!"

She dropped to the floor to protect herself, drawing her arms over her head and attempting to curl up into the smallest ball possible. Sobs were shaking her tiny body; she was far too scared to speak anymore. She wanted Fabian, she wanted Rose, she wanted Blanche - she wanted out of this place.

Her father suddenly stopped hitting her, and drew back, panting slightly. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a different tone.

"Shiloh."

Hopeful, the little girl turned her gaze up, tears streaming down her bruised cheeks.

The last moment of her dream was a vision of a massive hand reaching down to wrap around her throat.

There was pressure on her shoulder and collarbone, and Shiloh opened her eyes to find that she was still in her dream. A tall, red-haired man with brown eyes loomed over her. Her father had his hand on her neck, and was about to try and strangle her - just like before.

"Stop!" she cried, attempting to jump backward and tumbling off the small bed and onto the pristine white-tiled flooring below. Pain lanced up her back and arm, and she cringed, scrambling backward - her half-asleep and pain-ridden brain unable to make any sense of the situation at the moment. "Don't!"

The man leaned over the bed, his chocolate brown eyes wide and concerned. As she slowly came to full consciousness, she could see the subtle hints of darker brown in his eyes, the slightly thinner lips, and the longer nose. It wasn't her father. It was only Martin.

"Are you alright?" his deep, tenor voice rumbled gently, as if he were afraid that if he raised it any louder, it would frighten her further.

Looking around and licking her dry lips, Shiloh could tell that the room she woke in was not her kitchen in Idris, but instead the infirmary at the Seattle Institute. There was white gauze wrapped around her arm, from her wrist to her elbow, where the demon dog had bitten her.

Sudden panic overwhelmed her when she realized she couldn't see if Blanche was in the room from her position behind her bed, and she leapt to her feet to find the white-haired Shadowhunter perched on the edge of his own bed, worry evident in his expression. His hand was wrapped in gauze, with each finger individually coated in the stuff.

Embarrassment burned through Shiloh when she realized that there were hot tears in her eyes, and she immediately scrubbed her wrist across them to rid them of the wetness. "Sorry; I'm fine," she muttered in response and headed toward the door with every intention of leaving the room. Unfortunately, Martin had other plans. The redhead gripped her forearm - he didn't grab tightly, but after her dream, Shiloh did not want to be touched at all. She snatched her hand away and spun around defensively. "Leave me alone," she snarled, putting every ounce of venom into her voice as possible.

"Shiloh, we need to talk about what happened to you and Blanche last night," Martin stated calmly, his dark brown eyes soft and gentle. "Please have a seat."

Shiloh gritted her teeth and took a few deep breaths to try and calm her racing heart and shaking body. She gave him a tight nod and pointedly strode over to take a seat on the end of Blanche's bed. Her white-haired friend scooted subtly closer to her, and she forced herself to relax a little.

It was just a dream. Just a dream.

Martin crouched in the floor before the two younger Shadowhunters and cleared his throat. "Are either of you aware of what you encountered last night?"

His question was met with two matching shakes of the head in the negative.

"Have the two of you ever heard of Hellhounds?" Martin questioned, and this time they both nodded. The redhead took a deep breath and made eye contact with first Shiloh, then Blanche. "I believe that is what the two of you encountered last night."

Blanche raised an eyebrow dubiously. "I didn't think Hellhounds existed."

"Oh, they certainly do. Blanche, according to what you've told me about last night's events, the untouchable bodies, red eyes, the smell, the burns, the bitemarks... it makes sense."

"Does it now," Shiloh deadpanned, trying to get across with every ounce of tone and body language that she did not want to be present for this conversation. "Mind sharing any more about it?"

Martin looked at her and responded patiently, "Not only have I studied all sorts of mythical beings out of simple interest in the subject, I have seen what Hellhounds can do firsthand. I know that they are generally under command by some sort of higher being - a Greater demon, or perhaps an ambitious warlock - and are sent out with a target in mind. I know that their saliva is toxic and causes those inflicted to fall into a coma, and I know that the only thing to remedy that is tea made from wolfsbane and holy water. I know that you were both infected by Hellhound saliva, and that my wife and I had to forcefeed you and Blanche both that tea all through the night last night." He pointed at Shiloh's arm. "We've also been treating your burns with holy water, and it seems to be working."

Shiloh looked away and felt her face heat up a bit. "Thank you," she murmured, feeling bad for her earlier behavior.

"It's my job," Martin replied with a warm smile, his eyes soft and unbelievably gentle as he looked at the two young Nephilim. "You should be fine now, but we'll be keeping an eye on your wounds for a few days. But now we know we need to be extremely careful about going out at night for the time being."

She felt Blanche move beside her and heard him chuckle a bit, obviously trying to ease the tension in the room. "As if we needed another reason to be cautious out there, after the dead body Neil found the other day."

Martin sighed deeply through his nose and offered him a nod. "We're still looking into that. We have an idea of who it might be, but we're trying to keep that information classified until we know for sure," he informed them, standing up and taking a deep breath. "For now, the two of you should go get something to eat and relax. You'll probably feel lethargic for a few days."

"We'll take it easy," Blanche told him with his trademark smile.

After Martin left the room, Shiloh and Blanche sat in what she believed to be an awkward silence until Blanche snorted.

"What the hell?"

And then, as a sort of kneejerk reaction, Shiloh smirked and responded, "Hellhounds. That the hell."

Blanche chuckled and rolled his eyes. "It would be our luck that we go out to drop off some library books and get attacked by some sort of magical creatures."

"That's a very accurate description of how my life has gone so far, yes," Shiloh deadpanned, but couldn't prevent the smile that lept onto her lips afterward. "Does it remind you of that time I snuck into the old Ravenscar mansion in Idris and got attacked by their Irish Wolfhound?"

The blond young man laughed aloud. "Of course! That old thing was bigger than you were. You jumped out the window to get away!"

"It was totally your fault, though," Shiloh replied, crossing her arms. "You dared me to."

"No," Blanche started slowly, "I told you, 'No, Shy, old man Ravenscar has a huge dog in there and it'll bite you.'"

"...That is not how I remember it."

An - Sorry for the crappiness of this chapter - I really just wanted to give you guys something to read. I've been so busy lately!

Anyway, please review and let me know if you've got any ideas for the story, or what you'd maybe like to see later?

Love you guys!

-Snowy