#vampire!alec

‘Yes, ma’am,’ one of them says, and the slot on Camille’s door is hastily pulled across, isolating her once more.

She dives into her blood rations, and for once her thoughts are distracted from how low she has been laid. Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane, they said. She remembers the smell of angel blood, the sickly sweet taste of Nephilim on Magnus’ lips. The boy who stormed in to interrupt them, arrogant in his staggering youth. The brief flash of protectiveness across Magnus’ face as he told her to leave Alec out of this.

Camille doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Lightwood-Bane. It seems that in replacing her, Magnus found someone who’s as much of a saccharine idiot as he is, someone who’s willing to throw their life away for an immortal who’ll forget them in a century or two.

But as the news settles into her mind, she finds herself grinning, feeling the residual blood dry on her teeth. Maybe she doesn’t have to get to New York. After all, there’s more than one way to rip out the heart of a sentimental warlock.

***

All prison breakouts start with one mistake, and today it is the lot of Harrison Bigsby to provide it. Elliott’s been working with him since day one, is even considering asking him to be his parabatai – a potential conversation his mind wanders to as they begin meandering the halls, carrying between them all sorts of supplies for the prisoners.

A werewolf prisoner starts yelling furiously, banging on the door, and it pulls Elliott out of his reverie with a jolt. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he swears quietly. ‘You’d think they’d learn that all they’re gonna do is hurt themselves.’ He winces at the sound of flesh and bones hitting metal over and over, though it’s hard to feel too much sympathy for the prisoner – this wing is dedicated to containing the truly heinous criminals, those who’ve ended many innocent lives or caused suffering even worse than death. Elliott’s no coward, but he can’t help but feel relieved that he only has this particular duty once a month.

Harrison sighs. ‘Yeah. I’ll see if I can get him to calm down. You make the next blood drop.’ He walks away, and Elliott’s about to protest – this isn’t protocol, they’re supposed to stick together. But doubt stills his tongue, and he carries on towards the next cell. They’re not grunts straight out of training, and Harrison’s not going to want a weak-ass parabatai who can’t even do dinner duty without someone holding his hand.

He opens the slot, and before he can close it all the way, he hears her. ‘My my,’ she croons, and Elliott stifles a gasp because her voice is pure music. ‘This looks delicious. Thank you, my sweet.’ ‘You’re welcome,’ he says, awed. ‘I was hoping – before you go on your busy way, performing your duties so nobly – that you might do me the tiniest favour?’ ‘Anything,’ he breathes, and means it all the more when she laughs. ‘My hero. There’s a rune on the top left corner of this door, and it’s giving me some bother. Be a dear and deactivate it, would you?’

He hesitates, because as much as he longs to help her, he isn’t ever supposed to touch the security mechanisms. But his fears are assuaged when she continues, ‘It doesn’t do anything to the lock, of course, or I’d never ask. As far as I’m aware, it’s only there to cause me pain.’ Her voice sounds sadder now, broken, and Elliott wants to kill whoever’s responsible. ‘Please?’

He nods, then realises she can’t see him. ‘Of course, of course I will.’ He takes out his stele and waves it over the rune as efficiently as he can, because even a second more pain for her than necessary is too much for him to bear. The rune glows softly, then fades. She sighs in relief. ‘Thank you, my sweet. I won’t forget this. But let’s keep it our little secret, hmm?’ Her coy tone brings a blush to Elliott’s cheeks. ‘Our little secret, of course.’ He rather likes the sound of that. ‘Good boy,’ she says warmly, and he glows at the praise. ‘Now, you ought to go help your friend. I’m sure I’ll see you soon enough, next time you’re on this route. I can hardly wait.’ Her compassion makes him smile, as does her promise. He goes to check on Harrison without another word.

***

Camille drifts down the hallway back to her cell. She doesn’t like travelling in dust form, and as she slips back through the crack in the food slot, she reforms quickly, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Odd how you can taste the must down here more without a tongue, she muses. But she hadn’t wanted to push her luck with that Shadowhunter boy, not knowing how far her encanto could take her without eye contact. Asking him to disable that one rune was risky enough.

Besides, she thinks – as she wanders around the cell, preening – one rune was all it took. So far, she’s only been out of her cell for short ventures, timed precisely to miss the patrols. But finally, she’s ready for the next stage. Just in time, too – it’s been nearly a month, and if that encanto’d idiot comes back and starts drooling over her, his partner is going to know something’s wrong.

It’s another hour before the guards wander past her door, briefly opening the slot to check on her. She sits in the corner, holding her head in her hands, hiding her face. She has a good poker face, obviously, but there’s something about a situation like this that puts a certain gleam in her eye. I do love it when a plan comes together, she thinks happily.

The footsteps move past. She counts to seven hundred and fifty-two before she decides a thousand was an overly cautious number to pick, and if she has to count that much higher she’ll die of boredom. So instead, she falls into her dust form and slips away.

***

‘Inquisitor, there’s been a riot in the Gard.’

Alec’s attention immediately snaps away from the report on his desk to the lieutenant in front of him. ‘When?’

The lieutenant is maintaining a veneer of professionalism, but Alec can see the fear lurking behind it. ‘We first got word around four minutes ago, sir, but we’re not sure when it started. Twenty-three prisoners are out of their cells.’ ‘Which section?’ ‘Low-threat, sir,’ they say, and Alec lets out a breath. At least it isn’t the maximum-security wing. ‘Our people on the ground are trying to contain the situation, but-‘

‘Sir!’ Another voice interrupts as another Shadowhunter appears in the doorway, her blue uniform marking her as surveillance personnel. ‘Sorry for the intrusion, but there’s word on the riot. They have it mostly under control down there now – the head of security pulled all available details to handle it. The prisoners are back in their cells, they’re just working on re-securing some of the doors.’ ‘Casualties?’ ‘Three Shadowhunters wounded, six prisoners. No fatalities.’ Alec nods. ‘All right. Stevens, head back to the ops center. Tell the infirmary to expect nine injured, six of which will need security.’ The Shadowhunter from surveillance nods, hurrying away. ‘Travis, gather your team and meet me at the Gard.’

***

Camille watches on, willing her patience not to give out when she’s so close. The Nephilim don’t even glance at the dust in the shadows, wandering blindly in front of her and her five accomplices – other vampires from the maximum security wing, ones that she herself sired and whose loyalty can therefore be assured. Camille’s often been proud of her talent for siring ruthless offspring, and it’s serving her well now. That Simon boy was just a fluke.

The Inquisitor is inspecting one of the doors with his stele, apparently trying to determine  how the prisoners escaped. She wonders if she’ll have time before she kills him to tell him that she just opened the doors the mundane way, and let her new friends – the ones she’d been performing encanto on for the past few weeks – do the rest. Maybe she should send a manifesto of her plot to Magnus, afterwards. It does seem a shame to have no-one know just how brilliant her planning was. ‘No sign of rune-tampering,’ he says. All frowny and serious like that, she can see the attraction on Magnus’ part. It’s adorable. ‘We really have no leads on how they got out, Charlie?’ ‘No, but Alec… there’s some sort of demonic energy here. A strong residue of power.’ The Seelie scans the shadows, more watchful than the Nephilim, but Camille is confident she won’t be spotted. ‘I cannot put my finger on it, but whatever did this was no Nephilim.’ The angel boy looks around, but he’s even less of a threat than the Seelie. ‘All right. Send a message to Magnus, let him know what’s happening and ask for his help. No-one knows demonic signatures like he does.’

Camille quells her frustration as the Seelie departs. An annoying wrinkle, but not a huge problem. It’ll take time for Magnus to get here from New York. Without being able to portal straight into the Gard, his little angel will be long dead by the time he gets down here. There are only four Nephilim now, and they look like they’re preparing to leave, too.

Camille gives the signal.

She enjoys the look of shock on the boy’s face as her companions emerge from the shadows, breaking the neck of one of the younger Shadowhunters before the girl has a chance to react. The others are quicker, but the second one soon ends up on the ground with his throat ripped out, having barely laid a scratch on his assailant. The boy and his last remaining companion are clearly the more accomplished fighters, managing to take out three of her vampires between them. But they’re still outnumbered. When his comrade falls, Camille steps from the shadows herself, her last two accomplices helping her to hold the boy down.

‘Well, hello again,’ she purrs, straddling his chest, high enough that he can’t buck her off. He struggles, his expression full of hatred as he recognises her, but it’s fairly hard to move with a vampire pinning each of your arms down. ‘Alec, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I just think of you as ‘Magnus’ latest plaything’.’ He glares at her, but doesn’t say a word. ‘Ooh, cold,’ she says, relishing the slight flicker of fear as she bares her fangs. ‘Not in a chatty mood? Don’t worry, angel boy. I have just the thing to cheer you up. Maybe when Magnus gets here, he can have some too.’

He opens his mouth to say something – probably an angry, predictable demand to leave Magnus alone – but it’s lost in a gasp as she bites down on his throat. She drinks fast and deep, pleasantly surprised by the sweet angelic quality to his taste, but not wanting to savor too much. After all, this isn’t supposed to be a picnic for the boy, and she knows her venom is making this altogether more pleasant than she’d like. Oh well, she thinks. I can always try to convince Magnus that he suffered horribly, knowing what was happening despite the venom’s effects. With his bleeding, guilt-ridden heart, he’ll probably believe every-

‘ALEC!’

Camille just about has time to look up in shock – how the hell did he get here so fast? – before she’s thrown back violently. She gets to her feet as Magnus incinerates both of her remaining vampires, golden magic that matches his furious eyes and would remind anyone just whose son they’re dealing with. He’s not alone, but the two Shadowhunters behind him keep their distance, weapons drawn. Magnus plants himself between Camille and Alec, staring at her like he’s trying to bore a hole in her skull, and she tries not to show any fear. ‘Enough,’ he growls. ‘You’re not touching him again.’ His magic flares threateningly from his hands.

She smirks, hoping it doesn’t wobble. ‘You won’t do it,’ she says, pleased when her voice comes out steady. ‘You and I go too far back for that, Magnus. I saved your life. I was here long before your angel toy-boy, and I’ll be here long after.’ She waits for the capitulation, for Magnus’ face to soften as it always has when she pulls that card. For his weakness to shine through.

What she doesn’t expect is a slow but decisive shake of the head. ‘No,’ Magnus says, and the rage has gone, leaving only cold fury. ‘You’ve taken enough of my past. You’re not having my future.’

And that’s the final straw. Camille launches herself at Magnus, her own wrath boiling over at the realisation that she can’t control him like she used to.

The next bolt of magic cuts off her head, and the last thing she sees is a man who doesn’t need her anymore.

***

Magnus doesn’t even watch Camille hit the ground. Instead, he spins back to his husband, cradling his head; tears starting to well as he feels how cold his Shadowhunter’s skin is, the runes standing out starkly against his pallor. ‘Alexander,’ he breathes, but he doesn’t expect a response and he doesn’t get one, not even a hitch in the weak, shallow breathing. His fingers go to the unbitten side of Alec’s throat, over his deflect rune, and the pulse is barely there. He’s lost too much blood. ‘Get Catarina Loss here, now,’ he shouts, hearing both Shadowhunters scramble to obey his broken command.

But it’s a vain hope. There’s no way Catarina can get here in time, and he knows it. He chokes down a sob, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to Alec’s. ‘Please,’ he whispers, ‘not yet. Don’t leave me just yet. We’re supposed-‘ The words are cut off by another sob, and he finishes the thought in his head as he gasps for breath. We’re supposed to have more time. Decades. I was supposed to care for you as you grew old. ‘Please, Alec. Please.’

His hands move down to cradle either side of Alec’s neck, and he feels a swell of revulsion as he finds the twin punctures.

Then, a thrill of something dangerously close to hope.

His eyes fly open, and he looks from his husband, so still and pale but still there, to Camille’s body not ten yards away. He summons the vampire’s corpse without even thinking, cupping his hand under the fatal wound, where the last drops of her lifeblood are seeping out.

After a few agonising seconds, he prays that he has enough, because he knows he’s almost out of time. He parts Alec’s lips and gently lets the blood spill into his mouth.

Alec sputters a little, and Magnus hates to make his last breaths any more difficult, but he has to try. He leans forward again, using his unbloodied hand to stroke Alec’s hair, and presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead. ‘Forgive me, my love.’

The weak breathing stops, and the despair crashes over Magnus like a tidal wave. He pulls Alec close and weeps, not yet daring to hope he’s done enough to save the man he loves.

***

If Simon’s phone hadn’t started ringing, he’s not sure when he would have moved.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since Jace collapsed in the middle of his and Izzy’s kitchen, clutching his side and screaming in agony. How long since the screaming stopped, Jace’s expression going blank for a moment before he started hyperventilating, sobbing Alec’s name. The three of them have been frozen ever since, Izzy’s arms around Jace as the tears track silently down her face, Simon standing beside them, numb with disbelief.

And then his phone starts ringing, and it’s like the clock starts ticking again. He pulls it out of his pocket and feels his stomach plummet to his knees when he sees who it is, almost dropping it in his fumble to answer the call. ‘Magnus? Oh g-g-god, Magnus, I’m so-‘ ‘Are you alone?’ Simon’s taken aback by Magnus’ blunt tone. ‘No, I’m- I’m with Jace and Izzy. Magnus-‘ ‘Get out of their earshot.’ Magnus sounds… not calm, but emotionless. Detached. ‘Uh, okay.’ Simon holds up a finger to Izzy in response to her questioning look, and walks out of the kitchen, through the living room and into the master bedroom, closing all the doors behind him. ‘Okay, I’m out of the room-‘ ‘I need you to come to Alicante. Just you, as fast as you can get here.’

Simon takes a deep breath. ‘I totally get it, Magnus, and I’m so, so sorry, but I can’t just leave Izzy and-‘ ‘Simon!’ Magnus snaps. ‘We don’t have time for this. Alec needs you here, now.’ …Oh, god. Oh, god. Does Magnus not know? ‘Magnus,’ he says hesitantly, with absolutely no idea how he’s going to break this news. ‘Alec’s… Jace… he – ‘ ‘I know.’ Oh, thank god. ‘But we might be able to get him back, Simon. The same way Clary got you back.’ Simon’s eyes widen. ‘You mean-‘ ‘Go to the Institute and tell them that I’ve summoned you. They’ll be expecting you, and they should give you access to a portal. Get here as soon as you can, and don’t tell the others.’ The line goes dead.

Simon sways in place. If he thought he was dumbfounded before, this is a whole other level. He wanders back into the kitchen, hand still clenched around his phone. Izzy looks up at him. She’s still crying, but when she speaks, her voice is stronger than Simon expects. ‘What did Magnus say? Did he-‘ She pauses for a moment, continuing in a whisper. ‘Did he say what happened?’

Simon shakes his head. Which isn’t technically a lie, he has no idea what’s going on besides that Alec’s dead but Magnus says he can come back as a frickin’ vampire- ‘No,’ he says, realising that both of them are looking up at him now, waiting for more information. ‘He just said he wants me to go to Alicante, ASAP. Just me. He didn’t say why.’

‘No.’ Simon’s heart breaks a little at Jace’s voice, all the grief and fury in it. ‘No, we’re going with you. I have to-‘ He cuts himself off, breathing heavily. Izzy looks at Simon a little quizzically, and Simon tries to just look sad instead of nervous and guilty. Apparently, it works, because she turns back to Jace and runs her hand over his shoulders soothingly. ‘Jace,’ she says gently, ‘if Magnus doesn’t want us there yet, there’s got to be a good reason. We don’t-‘ She presses a hand to her mouth, taking a few breaths before she continues. ‘We don’t know what state Alec’s in.’ Her voice trembles a little on her brother’s name, and Jace’s sobs resume.

Simon gently puts his hand on Izzy’s shoulder. ‘I can stay,’ he offers, though he dreads to think what Magnus would do to him if he didn’t show. ‘I-‘ ‘No.’ Izzy shakes her head, and gives Simon her best attempt at a smile. ‘No, go. Magnus needs you right now. I’ve got things here.’

He gives her a half-smile in return, reaching out to comfort Jace quickly before thinking better of it and snatching his hand back. ‘Okay. Okay. I’ll, uh- go.’ He turns and sprints from the apartment, heading for the Institute, and feeling terrible about leaving the others behind. Magnus had better know what he’s doing.

***

‘Magnus, think about this.’ Raphael sounds exasperated, but Magnus knows him well enough to detect the undercurrent of concern. ‘Think of what his life will be like after this. Because of a choice you made for him. Is that a burden you can bear?’

Magnus doesn’t look up at him, but he nods. ‘I have to try, Raphael.’ Because of course Magnus has second- and third- and fourth-guessed himself, every moment since he dripped Camille’s blood between Alec’s lips. But the alternative is losing him, and he’s having trouble even thinking about that option. Raphael sighs in frustration. ‘Magnus-‘ ‘I didn’t ask you here to talk me out of it,’ Magnus snaps, but there’s no strength behind the anger. It sounds as hollow as he feels. ‘Will you help me or not?’

‘Raphael, can I… I need to talk to you. Just for a moment.’ Apparently, Simon showed up sometime in the last minute or so. Magnus hadn’t even noticed. He hears them walk away until they’re just out of earshot, where he can hear their cadence but not their words, and still he doesn’t move. His gaze is fixed on the hole in the ground in front of them. He can’t look at Alec lying down there, because there’s no peace in this kind of death, and he just looks pale and ill and wrong. But neither can Magnus completely look away, and so he guards the grave without daring to glimpse the owner.

It’s not long – or, hell, it might be an hour, he can’t tell anymore – before the footsteps return. He doesn’t ask Raphael a second time, just waits for his answer. Raphael sighs again, but this time, it’s in resignation. ‘All right. We’re running out of time. Let’s get this over with.’

The grave is shallow, and doesn’t take long to fill between the three of them – and then they’re standing back, waiting with bated breath. And as the minutes tick by and Alec still doesn’t appear, Magnus feels his resolve start to crumble. Maybe the blood wasn’t enough, even with that much venom in his system. Or maybe it was enough, but something’s gone wrong, and now he’s trapped his husband’s soul in a kind of limbo-

A hand strikes up through the earth, and Magnus should feel apprehensive at facing the consequences of his decision. But all he can focus on is how much easier it is to breathe again.

***

Cold, cold but burning, and he climbs out into dazzling light but it doesn’t sound right, doesn’t sound like the world and there’s the smell of rain and something earthy, sweet, familiar, delicious-

Another sound, too loud, too much, but he doesn’t care because there’s a different smell, in front of him and too delicious to resist and so he doesn’t, he tears it open and feasts and all is lost but the hunger, the frenzy, the need.

‘Not yet, Magnus. Give him a minute.’

Magnus, Magnus, the word is familiar. And the connection lights up in his brain as he continues to feast – Magnus is the name of that smell, the earthy-sweet-delicious one, so tempting that once he’s finished here, he knows what he wants afterwards, but for now there’s the hunger and the frenzy and that’s paramount, so he shuts off every other thought and just feeds.

And slowly, as the bloodlust is sated, Alec’s mind comes back to him, the last few minutes forgotten.

He’s kneeling in the dirt, and how did he get here? And the world is too loud around him, too bright even though when he looks up he can see the stars, that’s not right, night’s supposed to be dark.

‘Alexander?’

He looks down again, and this time, he sees the golden glow of his husband’s eyes, shining with unshed tears – but he looks relieved, treading that fine line between happiness and heartbreak. ‘There you are,’ he says, and his smile widens. ‘You know, last-minute dramatic entrances are supposed to be my thing.’ And he takes a step towards Alec.

EarthysweetDELICIOUS- ‘No!’ Alec scrambles backwards, and Magnus stops in his tracks, expression tipping back towards heartbreak, and Alec holds his breath because something is wrong, something’s in his head and it wants to hurt Magnus, wants him to hurt the man he loves. ‘Don’t- don’t come any closer,’ he says desperately, covering his mouth and nose. Or at least, that’s what he tries to say, but his mouth feels weird, and when he runs his tongue over his teeth he can’t quite place… what…

His eyes fall on Simon, on Raphael, and go wide in understanding. ‘No,’ he says again, more quietly – not despair, just disbelief. And he wants to say more, wants to ask what happened, because he remembers Camille’s teeth in his neck and fire around him but not how he got here – but the words get stuck in his throat, and he knows he should be worrying about himself but all his mind can focus on is how fucking devastated Magnus looks now.

Simon’s suddenly there, kneeling in front of him, face a little scared but determined. ‘Listen, Alec, it’s okay. I know it’s all – all – really freakin’ weird right now, and I know,’ he lowers his voice, ‘I know you’re afraid you’re going to hurt him.’ Alec shuts his eyes, and he wants to tell Simon to go away, tell him that he has no idea what he’s talking about, but he’s hit the nail on the head and Alec’s terrified. ‘But you won’t,’ Simon says, and he sounds surer of himself than Alec’s ever heard. ‘You won’t hurt him, like I never hurt Clary. And I was a frickin’ wimp, dude,’ he jokes, though his voice turns a bit shaky when he does. ‘You’re a total badass. If anyone can handle this, it’s you. And you don’t have to do it alone. We’re gonna help you.’

Alec opens his eyes and looks at Simon, daring to take a breath. He can still smell the sandalwood, the earthy sweetness he’s come to associate with Magnus, but it doesn’t stoke that fire of hunger inside him anymore. ‘Okay,’ he croaks, returning the smile as best he can when Simon’s face lights up. ‘Okay, I-‘

But then there’s pain, agony, and he claws at his neck, his ribs to get it off him, because it hurts, it feels like his skin is coming apart, make it stop-

‘Alexander!’ And then Simon is gone but there’s Magnus, Magnus, love of his life – holding on to him, wrapping him in his arms and it’s safe but it’s not because there’s still that voice at the back of Alec’s head, but it’s being drowned out by pain-

‘His runes, Magnus, they’re reacting to the change-‘

Make it stop, he wants to say. Please, Magnus, help me –

The world is still too bright, and it gets brighter, brighter-

***

‘It’s alright,’ Magnus soothes, trying not to sound as frantic as he feels. ‘It’s alright, Alec, I’ve got you, it’ll be over soon.’ His husband is limp in his arms, but he keeps talking, keeps pouring out magic to numb the pain. ‘It’s going to be alright. You’re going to be alright.’

The runes are still glowing red-gold on his skin, then flaring brightly one by one and disappearing. They’re reacting to the change, Raphael said, and that makes sense. Shadowhunter runes work on angelic power, they can’t handle the demonic nature of vampirism – only the Seelie realm can properly balance the two. The vampirism will win out, Raphael said assuredly. Once it does, he should be fine. But Magnus curses himself for not thinking of this, not realising that this would be an issue.

In fact, while he’s at it, Magnus curses himself for this whole damn idea, his selfishness and desperation, his inability to let Alec go. Because nothing, not even Alec’s death, has ever hurt Magnus more than that soft, broken ‘no’ when his husband realised what he’d become. What Magnus did to him. He doesn’t deserve to, but Magnus holds Alec tighter. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers.

The last rune – stamina, Magnus recognises dully – flares and vanishes. Alec remains still in Magnus’ arms.

‘It might take a while for him to come around,’ Raphael says, and it’s the closest to gentle Magnus has ever heard him. ‘I’ve heard of this before, when Shadowhunters were turned. The war between magics takes a toll on the body. We should take him home to recover.’

Simon steps forward as if to help, but Magnus shakes his head minutely, lifting Alec into his arms. He’s surprisingly light, until Magnus remembers how much blood he’s missing, and then it isn’t surprising at all. He steps forward, away from the loose earth, to give himself a sturdier footing. ‘We never did the bridal carry over the threshold, did we?’ he murmurs. ‘At least we’re getting around to it now.’ When Alec doesn’t respond, the smile dies on Magnus’ face. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. Not funny.’

He twirls his wrist gently to open a portal, and steps through into their bedroom, Simon and Raphael in tow. He manoeuvres Alec onto the bed, trying to make him as comfortable as possible, and takes a moment to magic away the dried blood on his face. Then he turns to the others. ‘Would you watch over him for a moment? There’s something I have to take care of. And let his family know what’s happened.’

He doesn’t wait for a response before portalling back to the graveyard, unable to wait another second. He faces the disturbed grave, and summons his powers – first smoothing it over, and then weaving ward after ward around the plot, casting glamours and protective spells, making sure they’re the kind that are built to last.

Grave dirt is a dangerous liability. Magnus is already afraid he’s made a colossal mistake, and he’s not about to make another.

***

Alec is unconscious for three days.

On the first day, Magnus busies himself around the apartment. Raphael assures him that it’s going to be a while before his husband wakes, and so Magnus takes the time to make preparations. He checks there’s no way sunlight can get into their home once the new blackout curtains are drawn, conjures blood to store in the fridge, silences any ticking clocks. He banishes the silver he can deal without, like some of his jewellery, and transmutes what he can’t, like the now-stainless-steel silverware.

That evening, the majority of Alec’s family arrive – Maryse, Jace, Izzy and Max. Magnus doesn’t meet any of their eyes, too afraid that he’ll see hatred for what he’s done, the path he’s chosen for Alec. When they go into the bedroom, he makes himself scarce, brewing tea and coffee in the kitchen because if they’ve had as little sleep as him, they’re going to need it. Izzy comes to join him after a while, and knowing how protective she is, he braces himself for the worst. But instead, she gently takes him by the hands, turns him to face her, and pulls him down into a hug. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I know it wasn’t an easy decision, but I don’t know what I’d do without him.’ Magnus doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t deserve her thanks, or that it was all too easy in the end, because he’s selfish. Instead, he just leans into her comfort.

On the second day, Robert shows up. He says he can’t stay long, which Magnus suspects has more to do with the awkwardness of being around Maryse than any ‘Clave business’, as he claims – but he sits with Alec a while, holding one of his hands while Maryse takes the other. Before he goes, he pulls Magnus to one side. ‘Keep me updated,’ he says. ‘Let me know when he wakes up, or if there are any changes.’

Shortly after Robert leaves, Raphael does too. ‘I’ve done all I can for you, now,’ he says. ‘The rest will be up to you and Simon to help him through.’ He clasps Magnus’ shoulder for a moment, meeting his eyes with a sincere, but not unsympathetic gaze. ‘I hope you don’t come to regret this.’

Magnus walks him out, and rather than return to the bedroom with its stifling air of guilt and sadness, he wanders out onto the balcony to get some much-needed space. The sun is setting, and he tries and fails not to think about how Alec won’t ever get to see that again. If he weren’t so tired, the thought would make him angry with himself all over again. So much for avoiding guilt, he thinks, and almost laughs. ‘Magnus?’ Simon’s voice is hesitant, and maybe Magnus isn’t just distracted. This daylighter is sneaky. ‘Are you alright?’

He actually does laugh at that, but there’s no warmth to it. ‘Oh, I’m just dandy, Simon.’ Simon comes to stand beside him, leaning on the balcony, but keeps around a foot of space between them, which Magnus appreciates right now. ‘Yeah, sorry. Stupid question.’ He pauses, before turning to face Magnus. ‘I felt it, when Camille went,’ he says. ‘I didn’t know what it was, at first, and then of course there was Jace a second later – but anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. That can’t have been easy.’ Magnus just shrugs, surprised at his own lack of feeling. ‘I suppose.’ Truth be told, he didn’t feel anything when he thought about Camille being gone, not even a small sense of loss. It would seem that any residual feelings he had for her were completely erased by the sight of her sinking her fangs into Alec’s throat. He takes a deep, slightly shuddering breath.

It’s a few moments before Simon speaks again. ‘He’s going to be okay. You know that, right?’

Magnus sighs. ‘No, I don’t.’ He looks back out at the sunset, and pretends that it’s the glare that makes his eyes water. ‘I did this to him,’ he whispers. ‘I knew what it would mean for him – I’ve seen Raphael go through it, and you. But I still chose this over losing him.’ ‘Well, yeah, but… it’s better than death, isn’t it?’ ‘I’m not so sure. You saw him in the graveyard, Simon. How scared he was, how, how…’ ‘But it’s like that for everyone,’ Simon argues. ‘It’s a big deal, but… you make it work. Raphael made it work, I’ve made it work. And neither of us ever wanted this, so Alec’s already got an advantage there.’

Magnus turns sharply to look at Simon, whose expression quite clearly says caught red-handed. ‘Uh,’ he says, clearing his throat. ‘Okay, yeah, cat’s out of the bag. Nice one, Simon,’ he mutters. ‘Okay, so, basically, he didn’t want me to say anything, but… when you were stuck in Edom, and we heard about Lilith, and we couldn’t figure out a way to get any Shadowhunters there to help you… Alec-kinda-asked-me-to-turn-him-into-a-vampire,’ he finishes in a rush. If Magnus looks as astounded as he feels right now, he wouldn’t blame Simon for checking his pulse. ‘He…’ Simon nods, a little sheepishly. ‘Yeah. I said no – obviously. For starters, I’m a terrible sire – but he was all in, man. He said if I didn’t do it, he’d find someone else to. If Clary hadn’t come up with the alliance rune, I really think he would have done it.’

Magnus turns back towards the last rays of sunlight, overwhelmed. You continue to surprise me. He closes his eyes at the memory. ‘I suppose that’s what you told Raphael to get him on board, then?’ ‘Yeah. He was much more supportive when I told him this was an option Alec had considered before, even if he didn’t quite get why.’

And in a way, Raphael is right. It doesn’t change the fact that Magnus made this decision, and all the weight of that – but maybe it’ll make things easier for Alec when he wakes up, and that’s all he wants for his husband now. ‘Thank you, Simon,’ he says, turning to give him a small smile. Simon returns it, and heads back indoors, apparently pleased with himself.

On the third day, Alec’s family drift in and out, but Magnus stays by his bedside the whole time. According to Raphael’s estimate, he’ll wake up soon, and Magnus wants to be here. He doesn’t know if Alec will forgive him – god knows he’s having a hard enough time just living with himself over this, forgiveness seems downright impossible – but when Alec wakes up confused, he always looks for Magnus, and Magnus doesn’t want him to panic when he rouses. If Alec wants him to leave, he can do that after, and he won’t blame him if that’s the case. But that’s after, and right now, Magnus’ place is here.

It’s nearly midnight when Alec shifts, the noise waking Magnus from a half-doze despite the amount of caffeine in his system. Everyone else is asleep, spread across the spare room and the couches in the living room. ‘M’gn’s?’ he mumbles, and despite all the guilt and all the fear, Magnus’ heart leaps to hear it. ‘Here,’ he says, reaching out and taking his husband’s hand. ‘Right here, Alexander.’ Bloodshot eyes find his, and after they take a moment to focus, an exhausted smile lights up Alec’s face. ‘Ah. There you are,’ he says, slurring slightly. Magnus swallows the lump in his throat, and tries to find a smile of his own. ‘Where else would I be?’ He relinquishes Alec’s hand, taking the cup from the nightstand and pressing the straw to his husband’s lips. ‘Here. Raphael said this would help once you woke up.’

Alec closes his eyes to drink – not that he’d be able to see what he’s drinking through the opaque cup and straw. That Meyer woman got a lot wrong, Magnus thinks, but damn if she didn’t know how to normalise drinking blood. Alec finishes most of the cup before he pulls away. Either he’s too out of it to realise what he just drank, or he’s adjusting to this new lifestyle remarkably quickly, because he doesn’t seem fazed at all – he just settles back down into his veritable nest of pillows, cracking his eyes open to look at Magnus once more, before he lets them fall closed again and reaches his hand out, palm up.

And Magnus puts all his practice with ‘living in the here and now’ to good use, pushing his worries for the future aside and just holding on tight.

***

‘Try telling yourself you want to run into the wall,’ Simon suggests. Alec grits his teeth. ‘Simon, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’ ‘Hey, worked for me. You won’t know unless you give it a try.’

Alec takes a deep breath, but without there being a need to do so, it’s annoyingly ineffective at calming him down. It’s been five days since he first woke up at home, and there’s a lot for him to be stressed about. Firstly, there’s the fact that even though he’s been through years of physical training, he’s pretty sure that if any of his instructors had been as irritating as Simon was while trying to teach him to manage his ‘vamp speed’ inside the apartment, he would have volunteered for deruning by the age of fifteen just to get away from them.

Speaking of deruning, there’s also the shock every time he walks past a mirror and doesn’t see his deflect rune on his neck, only the quickly-fading puncture wounds on the opposite side. His runes have been a part of him for so long, he feels oddly incomplete without them. It doesn’t help that it’s a reminder of his shift in identity, too – being a Shadowhunter is all he knows, all he’s ever known. It was an identity that fit, and vampire just doesn’t fit yet.

But if he’s honest with himself, there’s a much bigger reason why Alec feels so on edge, and that reason is sitting in the kitchen, wearing a wedding band identical to Alec’s, and pretending to read The Great Gatsby despite the fact that he hasn’t turned a page in twenty minutes. Since Alec woke up, Magnus has barely looked at him. He always stays close, of course, wanting to be there for him, but his bravado is out in full force. The only real expression Alec’s seen on his face in days is the one where he looks at Alec with a mixture of grief and wonder, like he’s some sort of sad miracle. And of course, as soon as he realises Alec’s looking, it’s back to the false smile and airy attitude, all without meeting his eyes.

And Alec understands, really. Magnus saved his life, but in the process, he’s ended up married to a vampire. Which isn’t a completely new thing for Magnus, of course, he’s been with vampires before – but the last time was when he was with Camille, and that story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending. And now she’s Alec’s sire, and this must be bringing up all sorts of weird memories for Magnus.

Alec looks back at Magnus, watches the honest expression slip away behind false cheer again, and suddenly he can’t do this anymore. ‘Simon, could you give us a minute?’ It’s taken a few days, but Alec trusts himself to be in a room alone with Magnus now – his long-earned discipline from being a Shadowhunter is coming in handy with learning to control his bloodlust. Besides, he’s sure that if he did lose control, Magnus could kick his ass pretty easily. Simon looks between them, as if momentarily transfixed by the awkwardness, before he shakes himself. ‘Right, right, of course, I’ll just-‘ He leaves quickly, and Alec spares a thought to appreciate that he can now see him go, because the same speed is at his own disposal.

He turns back to Magnus, refocusing on the task at hand. Magnus opens his mouth to speak, but Alec cuts him off. ‘Do you regret it?’ he asks quietly. ‘I- what?’ ‘Do you regret it. Bringing me back like this.’ Magnus just stares for a moment, then looks down at his hands. ‘I can’t,’ he says, and Alec closes his eyes, processing that. Of course Magnus feels like he can’t regret it, that would be tantamount to wishing Alec weren’t here, but- ‘I’m so sorry, Alexander.’

Alec’s eyes fly open, and he looks at Magnus in confusion. ‘What?’ There’s no bravado now, and Magnus looks pained. ‘I’m sorry, and I know I should regret doing this to you, but I just can’t. Because if I hadn’t, I would have lost you, and I couldn’t bear that.’ He meets Alec’s eyes again. ‘But I know it was selfish of me, and I am so, so sorry.’

‘Wait,’ Alec says, dumbfounded. ‘You’re sorry? For saving my life?’ ‘I saw what the transformation did to Raphael, to Simon. And I still chose to put you through that, rather than lose you,’ Magnus says, his voice so quiet, Alec’s not sure he would have heard him without his new-and-improved vampire hearing.

Alec’s head is reeling, but he walks over to Magnus, sitting beside him. ‘Look,’ he begins. ‘I’m not going to pretend that this isn’t a big change, that it isn’t going to be difficult. But making that decision, in the heat of the moment, because you didn’t want to lose me? That’s not selfishness, that’s love.’ He takes Magnus’ hands in his own, wanting his full attention. ‘Besides, it’s not like I’ve never made a choice that I knew would hurt you. What about when I asked you to give Lorenzo’s magic back? Or when I made that deal with your father?’ Magnus shakes his head with a sad smile, like he’s already thought of all this – which, if he’s been preoccupied with this ever since Alec woke up, he probably has. ‘That’s different,’ he says. ‘You were doing what you thought was best for me.’ ‘Maybe,’ Alec allows. ‘But I don’t think it’s that black-and-white, Magnus. Do you really think there wasn’t a part of me that asked you to give the magic back because I didn’t want to lose you? I practically told you as much,’ he points out. ‘And do you think there was no part of me that made that deal with Asmodeus just because I couldn’t bear for you to resent me someday? Because I don’t believe that.’

Magnus just shakes his head, that same sad smile on his face, and Alec changes tack. ‘Magnus. Whatever part of you did this for me, I’m grateful. Because now I get to see my family again, and we have a chance to do all those things we talked about doing ‘one day’. And whatever part of you did this for you… I’m glad you did.’ Magnus looks up at him in surprise. ‘I love you, Magnus. I want you to be happy. And if you need me here, then that’s where I want to be. And if you need to hear that I forgive you, then of course, of course I do. How could I not, when any selfishness you had only existed because you love me?’ He moves his hand to the back of Magnus’ neck, thumb gently stroking back and forth. ‘But even if you’re sorry you made this choice, I’m not. At all. Besides,’ he says, feeling a smile grow wide on his face, ‘vampires are immortal. How could I walk out on you now we’ve finally got a shot at forever?’

Magnus is quiet for a moment, and his eyes are still a little shiny. ‘You know, sometimes I think it’s a shame that I was the one to propose.’ He smiles, and wraps his arms loosely around Alec’s neck. ‘You give a great speech when you want to, Alexander.’ He leans forward, and Alec leans away a little. ‘Magnus…’ ‘It’s okay,’ Magnus whispers. ‘We’ll stop if you’re not ready, but I trust you.’ He moves in slowly, giving Alec time to pull away, but he doesn’t, and when their lips meet it’s tender and sweet. Alec notes with relief that his fangs don’t descend, and leans into the kiss, emboldened.

When they pull apart, they rest their foreheads together. ‘A shot at forever,’ Magnus murmurs. ‘Sounds pretty good, when you put it like that.’ Yeah, Alec thinks, pulling Magnus even closer. It really does.

***

Change is never easy, but it’s rarely impossible.

Officially, when Alec died, he lost the role of Inquisitor. His colleagues seem relieved when he accepts that loss with good grace, knowing that even with the newfound acceptance of Downworlders in Alicante, the role should go to someone who’s still a Shadowhunter. The more Alec adjusts to his new life, the further removed he’ll be from his old one, and he knows it won’t be long until he forgets the little things he used to know intrinsically – how it feels to activate a rune, or to wield a seraph blade. How to plan for a situation with Shadowhunter abilities instead of vampiric ones.

Instead, he liaises between the Clave and the small vampire population in Alicante, pushing for compromise and understanding. It’s not easy – there are still plenty of Shadowhunters who look down on Downworlders, and plenty of vampires who don’t trust Shadowhunters after years of prejudice. But times are changing, and over the years, Alec goes from feeling like he doesn’t belong on either ‘side’ to finding a sense of belonging in both.

His family adjust, though each of them takes their own time. Izzy and Jace, used to spending time with Simon, fold him into a bone-crushing hug between them the moment they enter the apartment. He’s pretty sure that if he hadn’t insisted on getting used to his vampiric urges first, they would have done so the moment he woke up all those weeks ago. And of course, when Clary returns to the Shadow World, her acceptance is just as freely given. Maryse takes a little longer, but Alec can see her trying. The first time he sees her again, she cups his face in her hands, and meets his eyes with a determined expression. ‘You know as well as I do that this is a big change,’ she says. ‘But you’re still my boy. You always will be. And as long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you too.’

Robert doesn’t come by often, but when he does, Alec can see that he’s trying, too. He hesitates before clapping Alec on the shoulder, or sitting next to him at the dinner table, but he never chickens out. Part of Alec was sure that his dad would drop out of his life completely – it’s not like they’ve been close ever since his parents fell out, the last thing they need is one more obstacle between them – so this exceeds his expectations. With Robert comes Max, and Alec is gentlest with him, toning down the ‘vamp stuff’ at first. His youngest brother has almost no personal experience with Downworlders besides Magnus, and he’s still just a kid.

The first time Max walks into their apartment without a look of trepidation, Alec almost cries with relief.

After that, it’s not long before Max is bubbling over with questions – what does vampire speed feel like? Is Alec’s vision even better now than it was with his runes activated? Does blood taste different now? (That last one leaves Alec gaping, unable to find any words to even begin to answer, and Magnus can barely contain his laughter.)

Despite the fact that it was Magnus’ decision to save him this way, Alec is a little nervous when things start settling down after his transformation. He’s worried that without all the panic of nearly losing Alec, Magnus will realise how different things will be now. After all, Magnus has ended up with a husband who can’t go out to dinner with him, can’t even go out with him in the daytime, and whose fangs descend whenever they have a disagreement – not as a threat, just as an automatic reaction, like the vampire equivalent of a frown.

But Magnus never seems to mind any of that. He looks at Alec the same way he always has, brings him the occasional glass of blood as casually as he would a cup of coffee, and sounds so, so happy when they’re lying in bed together or curled up on the couch, talking about the future. Because one thing they never doubt is that both of them are in this for forever, now that they have a chance at it. Magnus was the one to turn Alec immortal, and Alec was the first one to mention that as a major upside to Magnus’ decision; so right from the start, they’re on the same page about that, and it makes Alec smile whenever he thinks about it, too.

The way they spend their free time changes, but it’s not all losses. They can’t walk down the streets of an unfamiliar city in the heat of the day, but they head out to the desert and lie under more stars than Alec’s ever seen before. They can’t share a meal together, but they go swimming in crystal clear waters in the moonlight, Magnus’ magic and Alec’s vampirism meaning they don’t have to come up for air until they choose to.

And of course, Alec’s favourite kind of time together – like tonight – isn’t all that different. A soft jazz song is playing, and Magnus is humming along as he and Alec turn in slow circles around the living room, swaying in each other’s arms, heads resting on each other’s shoulders. If anything, this is another thing that’s better now that Alec’s a vampire – his problem with dancing was always overthinking, and for some reason, he finds it easier to trust his newfound poise than the grace and balance that came from being a Shadowhunter.

There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he, turns out to be, someone who’ll watch over me… Alec smiles at the lyrics being crooned around them, feeling like a huge sap but far too happy to care, and sighs. ‘What are you thinking about?’ Magnus asks softly. Alec turns his head slightly to press a kiss to his husband’s cheek. ‘You,’ he says honestly. Magnus breathes out a laugh. ‘Oh, stop it. You do know how to make a man blush, Alexander.’

They’re quiet after that, listening to the music, holding each other close. It’s a long time before either of them let go.

He couldn’t deny, even to himself, why he’d chosen Venice as his most visited vacation destination. Sure, he did enjoy the ancientness of it, and the beauty. But the real pull for him started somewhere in the twenty-first century. A quick getaway after a war—one of the hundreds he’d seen and been a part of in his life—and a blue-eyed boy who still held his heart, even though he was certainly long dead.

Sometimes, Magnus wished he’d taken the bait. Let Alec perform the spell, and he could have grown old with the one person he’d ever loved the most in his life. He’d always been weary of even getting more than acquainted with mortals, for that very reason.  Their flickering flame would always burn out before his could even be blown by the wind of time.

And now, after nearly 200 years, he was still yearning for the chance to go back and change it.

But there was nothing for it. Alec was ashes and dust by now, had joined his brothers in arms as all Shadowhunters did. Magnus hadn’t stayed around that gang to know how Alec died. Had he been killed in battle? Or had he been one of the few that made it to old age? Had he married? Had children? Was he happy?

Could Magnus have truly made him happy?

Physically shaking the thought from his head, Magnus continued down the tiny avenue, ignoring the jibes from those he passed. After all these years, he was still eccentric, and still couldn’t be bothered to care what others thought about it.

He rounded a narrow corner, and stopped short. It wasn’t uncommon for one to come upon some shady activity or other while wandering the more remote and less guarded streets of this city, and tonight proved no different. He’d happened upon a couple—except he doubted that they even knew each other’s names, in this part of town—who were heatedly groping at each other’s belt loops and jackets. Two boys, fairly young by the looks of it. Maybe mid-twenties. Their passionate moans and sighs lilted through the alley like musical desire. The one with is back against the wall was certainly human, his soft cries of pleasure at the simply gestures of his companion gave away the fact that he’d not had much in the way of these types of encounters in his life.

However, the other boy, who seemed latched onto his companion’s smooth neck with a passionate ferocity that Magnus could almost feel, was more than likely something other than human. Magnus’ first guess was, of course, vampire. Perhaps he was Faerie, but it seemed the less likely choice. The human boy’s hands were tugging at his black hair and his own pale hands gripped the human’s t-shirt tightly. They seemed, for all accounts, completely oblivious to their surroundings. As the human boy didn’t seem to be in any distress—and really, it wasn’t a warlock’s place to interfere with this sort of thing anyway—Magnus walked on until he’d almost overtaken them.

Just as he was passing directly by, they broke apart. The human sagged against the wall as the other lifted his face, sweet red liquid trickling from the corners of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.

Magnus’ breath ceased.

Shining blue eyes, edged with flecks of red around the pupils, stared back at him in disbelief. A leather-clad wrist swept up with ferocious grace, swiping at the excess blood.

“Magnus?” How was it that Alec’s voice could still sound the same after all these years?

“My name is Mitchell, for the fortieth fucking time,” said the other boy, looking supremely annoyed to have been interrupted. He swiveled his head toward Magnus, who was still standing dumbstruck in the middle of the alley. “Now, if you want a threesome, I’m down. But if you’re just here to fuck this up, then please, by all means, get lost.” His green eyes burned with annoyance, but Magnus paid him no mind.

“Leave,” Alec said. Magnus felt struck for a moment before he realized Alec had been talking to his human companion.

“Excuse me?” Mitchell asked, incredulous.

“You heard me,” Alec said, his eyes still on Magnus. “Get lost.”

“Fuck you, man…” Mitchell pushed off the wall, adjusting his obvious erection which had miraculously stood the test of the encounter, and stalked off down the avenue.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Magnus felt compelled to speak. “You’re not dead,” he said eloquently.

After a beat of silence, “Technically, I am.”

Magnus thought he was beyond humor at this point, but he let out a bark of laughter anyway. He sobered up quickly, though. “How—“

“It was an accident. My own fault. About two years after we—“ he cut himself off.

In all the years Magnus had been wondering what he’d say to Alec if he ever saw him again, he’d never actually considered the possibility. Which is probably why he could literally think of nothing to say in this moment. What did you say to the one person you loved most in almost eleven centuries? Whom you thought was dead and burned almost 200 years ago?

“I missed you.” It seemed appropriate.

After a few unnecessary breaths, fangs still out and causing him to lisp slightly, Alec replied. “I missed you, too.”

And that was all that was needed. Funny how that works. How you can fall back into old patterns that hadn’t even had the chance to really become patterns, even back then.

Alec hadn’t ever been a very vocal lover, but when he let his voice rise, he made it count. His skin was chilled and not the warm mortal flame that Magnus recalled, but he wasn’t complaining. The bed in Magnus’ apartment in the north of the city barely withstood the near eternity of lovemaking that transpired between them. Alec no longer needed stamina runes, as he also no longer needed tedious human necessities like sips of water or bathroom breaks. It was the most blissfully rough and tender night Magnus had ever known.

In the morning, Magnus woke to find his bed empty and cold. A note left on the pillow said that his lover would return that night and they would talk. Magnus doubted there would be much talk. He glanced closer at the elegant script across the parchment, at the post script message near the bottom.

Why Venice? It asked.