A/N: I'm just going to warn you right off the bat this is depressing as hell. This is the result of a conversation I had with a friend of mine, DoctorTheTwitch, about what we think will happen to our favorite couple in the last TMI book and as you can probably tell we didn't think good things will happen. :)

I also wanted to play around with the idea of who Magnus' father is, something I've had trouble finding here on ffnet (If any of you have any recommendations for a story with a good part about his dad, I'd love to hear about it). After a little research and thought, I chose Prince Vetis - often cited with the loss and corruption of innocence. But instead of just plain corruption I thought it'd be interesting if he could... manipulate it a bit. ;)

I'm not Cassie, and this is by no means even close to her writing. I'm just tormenting her characters for a bit.

"No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can choose what stays and what fades away

And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
(No light)
Tell me what you want me to say"

- No Light, No Light

by Florence and the Machine

Pound of Flesh

Chapter One - Vetis

When the sun rose, it was crimson. Cloud cover spattered the horizon like demon ichor, mirroring almost perfectly the swampy mess the valley had become over night.

"Alec... Alec?"

The foothills confined heaven's battlefield, a heavy burden made obvious by the still smouldering scars across their faces. Little could prepare the now decimated forces with the devils they had unwittingly faced.

"Hello? Yes, a Shadowhunter- no, a young one - I know there are plenty on the ground but - some by the dragon corpse? Very well thank you."

The ground was littered with countless dead. Yes the battle had been theirs, but it had been at the cost. Even the angels couldn't evade punishment.

"He's a Lightwood. Yes, blue eyes, black hair. You saw him with the fairies? Thank you."

The survivors picked through the corpses, hoping not to find a familiar face among them. Along with them was a warlock of high esteem - Magnus Bane. He was disobeying orders by searching; capable warlocks had been required to heal the wounded while everyone else in workable shape sought out their companions. No one scolded him, however. Empathy for those who had yet to find their loved ones was strong between those who were already coping with loss.

"Off in the woods? Are you sure?"

The warlock was donned in battle gear traditional to the nephilim. In fact, it was difficult to differ those with angel blood from the downworlders; for this cause they had temporarily became one and they still had yet to drift apart from each other. Little of his tanned skin was left uncovered. Red blood and black ichor stained his body.

"Are you-? Yes, I am. A greater demon?"

Magnus had wandered off to the very edge of the destruction. Here some green could be spotted, precious scraps of life that had yet to be sucked dry. Here, a scorched crater could be seen between a few black-clad corpses. The remainder of a Greater Demon who had been banished back into its home dimension. Witchlights sat dead, away from their late owner's grasps and sephraph blades were lifeless clutched by the leather snakes of shadowhunter gear.

"Alec... Alec?"

The warlock slowed to a stop in the centre of the clearing. He scanned over the bodies, and his heart stopped when he saw a crop of shaggy black hair.

"Alec!"

He rushed to the body, hauling it over so it lay belly-up. The sharp jaw and hollow cheeks of a fairy face confronted him. Magnus relaxed. This wasn't his lover.

It was then his ears perked to the clatter of a skirmish nearby. Straggling hell beasts being warded off, leftovers of the greater battle hidden by what remained of the woods. Magnus stood and after one last look at the clearing, he hurried to the conflict.

The light of active sephraph blades glinted through the foliage and it wasn't long before Magnus came across a pair of shadowhunters fighting the remainder of a Dravak demon horde. One was tall and willowy - one Magnus didn't recognize. The second he knew all too well. Usually in this sort of circumstance he would have joined Alec in the fight, but it was nearly done. No point in assisting with a won battle. The demons screamed as the collapsed in on themselves, falling back into the damned dimension they came from. Unfortunately, one decided to drag the other shadowhunter with them, leaving Alec alone with the last of the horde.

The warlock stepped forward, ready to jump in when needed. But Alec, skilled in his years, made quick work with the demon. Once he pulled his blade from the creature's torso he turned, and the smile of all smiles splashed across his lips when he saw Magnus there. "Magnus-!"

A hissing scream tore through the air as the Dravak demon began folding in, spraying ichor and venom which ate holes into the ground around it. But this wasn't what cut the shadowhunter boy off. In the cataphoney of the demon's descent it's impossibly long scorpion tail lashed out in one last attack.

The tail sliced through Alec's back with the cracking of ribs and ripping of muscle. And just as quickly as it had came, it evaporated, leaving only the open wound and the stink of brimstone. Before Magnus knew it, Alec was collapsed on the ground. Still there, left to die in his home dimension - a blessing not all warriors had.

"Alec!" Magnus tore forward, stumbling over debris and a few scattered corpses until he reached the boy, barely catching him. Blood gushed from the newfound hole in his chest, spreading and soaking through Magnus' battle gear. He struggled to pull Alec upright, into a position where he could apply any of the healing charms. "Alec... don't worry I'm here, I'm here, it's okay..."

The warlock was quick to assess the damage. Alec's legs hung limply across Magnus' lap, as if whatever spirit that powered the lower half of the shadowhunter's body had already fled. Severed spine. The boy's chest was spasming for breath and a slight whistling could be heard. Punctured lung. Not to mention any damage done to the now visible ribs, along with the copious amount of blood being lost. It was a miracle the heart wasn't taken as well considering the width of the demon's tail and the power of which it struck him.

Even with a learned warlock at his side, his chances of surviving were slim.

Alec didn't need to hear the prognosis in order to know this. The pain must have been impossible, and yet he refused to scream. Lightwood resolve, at its finest. Magnus pressed his free hand against the wound and cringed when Alec arched away from it, jaw clamped shut against the new wave of pain. I'm sorry but I must. Blue energy sparked as he began the mending process, preparing to empty out every last reserve of strength he had and to pour it into the dying shadowhunter.

Then he ran into a wall. He frowned, trying again and failing with the same results. Now Magnus had never been one who was quick to anger - level-headedness learned over the centuries - but right then, he might as well been as young as Alec. Rage coiled tighter and tighter in his heart with each attempt. He wanted to scream; his magic had never rejected him in this way before. Now? Now than any other - damn it all! Damn it all to hell! Live... live damn it! Alec, please! Live! For me, Alec! For me!

His concentration was broken when he felt icy hand wrap around his now blood slicked wrist. Eyes snapping open, he looked down into the now fading blue eyes. In his fervor, Magnus had dug his hand deep into the wound of which hummed with the still reluctant energy. Sweat dripped down his already filthy brow, mixing with what few tears that managed to slip by. And yet Alec managed a weak smile looking at this desperation, as if he were forgiving of Magnus' failure. "Remember...?"

With what scraps of breath Alec had, it was quite something he was able to speak at all. Magnus, at a loss of what else to do, leaned in closer. "What, Alec?"

"The truck." He wheezed. For a frightening second his eyes closed and Magnus reapplied the pressure on his boyfriend's torso in the empty hope that the body would be accepting of his aid. It wasn't, but Alec opened his eyes on his own. "The truck. You... only have so much to give. You don't have much."

"Yes but I can still give what little I have if you take it." Magnus hissed, holding the boy even closer. "Don't you give up hope yet we can still pull through this."

"There are..."

"Yes?"

"...others?"

Magnus' brow crumpled. "Others?"

"Others like me. Dying."

"Of course." Magnus said curtly.

There was a space of silence. Then with another rattly breath Alec sighed, "Take it."

"Take-" The warlock balked when he realized what was going on. "Alec, Alec. It's not over. I can save you, I can!"

What must have been a chuckle tore through the boy's chest, releasing a new stream of blood running from the corner of his lip. His complexion was waxing and the blue of his eyes had tired to a half-hearted grey. Magnus could say what he liked, his magic was doing nothing to slow the shadowhunter's demise. "You can only do so much Magnus... I don't want you to... just take it before it's gone."

"Alec..." Magnus croaked, holding him tighter than ever before. "Alec... please..."

With what must have been his remaining strength, Alec intertwined his fingers through Magnus'. Weakly, the warlock felt the prickle of energy trickle up his arm. Relaxing, Alec smiled. "There. See? Not so... hard."

The shadowhunter slumped into Magnus and what little flow of energy that had been there cut off alltogether. Heart jumping to his throat, Magnus strained to pull him upright again. "Alec?"

Glass blue eyes stared back up at him.

His Alec wasn't there anymore.

And yet Magnus clutched the body even closer. He struggled to keep his breathing even, to keep his senses from frosting over into a state of shock. Focus. Focus. Alec was dead. Alexander Lightwood was dead. Another shadowhunter taken by the war of all wars, an honor. It was how he would have wanted to go, young and in a blaze of glory.

He didn't want to fade. He didn't want to fade. Remember he didn't want to fade...

Surprisingly enough, tears were easy to keep back. Perhaps it was due to dehydration, or maybe it was because he had known this was coming all along. After all, if Alec had survived this battle another would have taken him a year or two down the road. And if not that, time would have taken him - something Magnus knew Alec would have hated.

He didn't want to fade... he didn't want to fade...

Magnus pulled his hand away from the cadaver's still warm wound wiping the blood off onto his pantleg. He wanted to go like this, doing what he loved. He was doing what he loved. He was doing what he loved. He took a steadying breath, calming the slight shake that set in his shoulders. With his now clean hand, he pressed two fingers on the body's eyelids, pulling them over the now empty eyes. It was inevitable. He wouldn't want you to mourn. He wouldn't... he wouldn't. He buried his face into Alec's shaggy mop of hair, breathing in the bitter and familiar sweat, clinging to the last scraps of heat left in the body.

He... he didn't want to leave without you.

This last thought cropped up out of nowhere. A stray line of reasoning which certainly wasn't his. It was a snippet sent to him from someone else and only one someone had the ability to do just that.

Magnus refused to look up from his fallen lover, even as he heard the demon's approaching footsteps. "The war is over. There is no reason for you to be here."

I cannot enjoy peacetime just as well as anyone else? Come now, don't you think that's a tad harsh of you?

"I can be as harsh as I fucking want." Magnus rarely swore, and when he did it was never with this sincerity. While he knew he should have resisted- could have resisted -he found his gaze slowly being drawn away from Alec and up toward the source of the demonic hiss.

His father.

Vetis.

He was dressed quite dandy this evening. A slick red suit with black shirt and tie accented by a dead rose pinned to his lapel, obviously clean of the battle his spawn had lost him. He would have been considered handsome in his slender build if it hadn't been for the unnatural length of his limbs, his legs stretching him up to an unholy nine feet. Somewhat out of place, a long brimmed cleric's hat worthy that of an exorcist sat atop his head, the long flap of the front further concealing his features past his long black hair.

Well, it would have been concealing if there were any features to hide.

Eyes trained after centuries of these confrontations Magnus could quickly pick up on the expressionless mask of skin that stretched over the face of the demon's humanoid skull. No mouth, no nose, and not a wrinkle of expression lay present. And to the unknowing observer no eyes as well, but Magnus was sharp and knew that his father was no blind man. Eyes, clever and feline like his, lay underneath the wafer-thin skin, blood red irises faintly visible in the sunken sockets.

The hiss stirred again, scattering the warlock's thoughts like autumn leaves. I suppose you do.

Magnus' hand involuntarily wound itself around the icy fingers of the fallen shadowhunter. "You're not here to pay your respects. Explain yourself."

You assume such horrible things from me. Did you consider I may be offering my help? A hard laugh came from Magnus, hollow and without humor. Vetis continued. I may reconsider if you remain so rude.

"Go ahead and reconsider. I'm not interested in your assistance." Pulling his gaze away from his father felt much like pulling a strip of iron from a powerful magnet. His eyes did eventually snap back to the corpse, and he scooped his arms underneath the body and hoisted up. Nothing ever felt heavier.

A whispy 'tsking danced between Magnus' ears. To think not a decade ago you vowed to harden your heart to these trivial matters.

The warlock's eyes all too readily shot to his sire. "He is not trivial."

Was. The demon's voice was all ice in its correction of tense. Well... not quite yet, I suppose.

Magnus' ears perked at the statement. "Excuse me?"

If the demon had a mouth, it'd have been stretched into a sneer. Oh nothing. You said you didn't require my assistance. I shall honor that request.

"That doesn't exclude an explanation." Magnus' voice lowered as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. It wasn't wise to engage his father in this state, so unstable and vulnerable to suggestion. But he had to know what 'not quite yet' entailed. For Alec. "Vetis, explain yourself."

The crumbling crunch of scorched debris echoed in the hollow space of the clearing as the demon came closer, accompanied only by the distant wails of lovers lost. It was surreal knowing that if this had happened years bygone, back when the old warlock had a heart raw and bleeding like that of a mortal, he would have joined them. He would have torn his hair and wept in hysterics. And yet here he stood, holding a conversation with his father when his lover lay freshly dead in his arms. Some would call him heartless, and he supposed there was some truth to it. When age isn't able to erode the body it petrifies the soul; how else would the angels in heaven be divinely impartial and the demons in hell parched by a constant thirst to feel and to thrive even though they've long lost the luxury.

However silent, the ageless warlock was consumed by a hollow emptiness. He had long lost his passion and his vigor; the jagged edges of fury now degraded melancholy as fine as powder. It kept building and building into the thickest of layers over him, threatening to buckle his knees and pull him down to sleep in the ashes with the fallen Lightwood and let himself be buried in the downpour.

Vetis knew this. Magnus knew he knew this. And he had ceased to care.

The hellish prince reaches a spindly hand, leaving it suspended in the as if offering his scent to a frisky creature. By the quirk of his twiggesh and gnarled fingers Magnus knew what he was asking; dare I touch? Weighed down by the dust, Magnus' chin dipped in a nod and was barely able to lift it up again.

His father's talon-like nails skittered across the boy's forehead, brushing his hair to the side. The demon shook his head, the shadow over his mask shifting with unnatural life. Aren't you tired of this all?

Magnus didn't answer, watching the lazy patterns being traced in his former lovers forehead. The memory of playing with those very same locks sparked in the depths of his mind, staticing out and attracting another layer. Vetis continued. Watching your lovers live and thrive and die only to leave you stagnant. So corrupted with the monotony of immortality. Would you say?

"I..." Magnus sighed, his hearing bogged down by the static of the transmissions of his own thoughts let alone his father's. "I can't say."

If it's any matter, I for one tire of watching you, my son, suffer so dearly. The crisp tenor of the prince's voice crooned, his hand tracing down the shadowhunter's neck and onto the warlocks wrist. Magnus shivered, the dehydrating singe of the fingers freezing his blood with their arctic bite. Isn't it time you move on?

"What do you want of me, father?"

There was a pause before the hand clamped the crook of his elbow. I wish what you wish. An end to all things and the beginning of something new.

Silence blew between the two immortals, the elder's gaze steady on his son. Magnus was focused on the closed eyes of the boy, the hollow ache transmuting into a seed and from that seed sprouted a desire; What I wouldn't give to see those blue eyes again...

"What you were saying earlier..." He trailed, shifting his grip slightly so his own slender fingers could caress the waxing cheek of the shadowhunter.

The demon hummed, his hand scuttling up to it's new perch on the younger's shoulder. Magnus, would you have said that this Alexander was your all?

His breath caught. He could feel the subtle tug of binding magic trickling into him from the prince's fingertips. And yet again, he was unable to care. Wearily, he sighed, "...yes."

And would you, my son, say that even after centuries of lovers and broken hearts, that he was your one and only? Vetis' voice played tender at this point, and suddenly the witchcraft wasn't all too harsh. It was as if the years were systematically be stripped from Magnus, restoring breath to his lungs and fleshiness to his heart. All the more to bleed, and his calm dignity began to drain away. "Of course."

Suddenly both hands were grasped on his shoulders, the brim of the unholy cleric's hat itching against the warlock's brow. Now he could truly see the demon's eyes; his eyes. What would you give to save him from the depths of the abyss?

Tears stung and ran hot trails down his cheeks. Suddenly he was a young boy again, in his father's presence for the very first time after having drenched his hands with the blood of the mundane who had been committed to his mother. He shook like a prophet in the presence of the angels, words escaping him in sheer terror. Alec, his Alec, lost forever to the depths of hell because of a false move. Because he had to turn and look, to turn and greet him. Sickness churned and suddenly the weight of it all became too much. He bucked over, Alec still sorely gripped to his chest. Throat becoming sore from silent cries, he buried his head in the crook of the boy's neck. Vetis had followed him down, hand mussed in his son's hair as he kneeled before him. With a serpentine hiss as tantalizing as Lucifer before him, he bided. Magnus?

"Anything." He croaked, voice cracking across the octaves. "I would give anything to have him live another day."

Perfectly understandable. The demon's tone was considering, as if he were choosing between white and red wine. Maliciously, his nails dug into his son's scalp, making the warlock choke off as he pulled his head up to face him. The quick snap washed Magnus down with a dizzying wave of vertigo, his ears ringing from the silent conversation and his head clouding up with the air of stress and sorrow. It seemed the only solid ground his mind had to stand on any longer were his father's words. There's still hope then.

"What do you want?" Unlike the first time he inquired, this time Magnus' intentions were as pure and naive. Years out the window, he was heartsick and irrational. And if he were in any mood for contemplation, the consideration of his behaviour mirroring what Alec's would certainly have been would have arisen without a doubt.

My pound of flesh. Now bloody hands trailed down and cupped Magnus' face. You are well practiced in Bell, Book, and Candle. A soul for a soul; a life for a life.

The shaking capitalized, his only tether being his father. "My... my life. This is what you require?"

Not so much your life rather than your essence. At this point the now steady flow of energy that had spread and sank its roots into him began to retreat, tugging at his seams and pulling him threadless and apart. You shall be stripped of you immortality and your life stunted to my liking. And when it comes time for you to pass on, you shall be mine once again.

Magnus' grip dug into Alec's stiffening corpse. Panic washed over him, reacting poorly to the already well settled weight of agony and the fresh blood of his newfound innocence. He knew Alec wouldn't have wanted this, he would have been torn in similar stitches if he had been looking on. He could practically hear the boy's voice; "Never Magnus, never. I would never want you to this. Not for me, not for anyone. You are too precious."

And yet, he couldn't shake his visions of the world bathed in blood and his love suffering for the sins of his shortcomings. If he had to storm the seventh circles of hell exhausting his spells until his hands bled, he would have done it gladly. In comparison, the Faustian delay of retribution seemed tame, an obvious choice.

There was no need to voice his answer. The second he gave into the temptation the tugging at his strings tore out the roots of his very core in an unceremonious upheaval. The long built-upon spiderweb of threaded thoughts were suddenly batted to oblivion and his eyes that had seen centuries turn and generations grow and die blacked into a temporary blindness. And at the climax of this robbery, the last remaining chain- that forever golden chain every immortal was shackled with -was shattered and life and look escaped as he collapsed into his lover.

For that moment, the world became impossibly cold.

And in payment: let you wake with your Alexander. He shall have no memory of this, my son, as this will remain your burden to bear alone.

But until then, sleep.

Hold him close.

Cherish your nights,

and love him like he's your last.

For there will be no after.