Sorry this is kind of short and is really crappy, I haven't been home much and I wanted to get it up today. Mostly because I didn't want to torture you guys any longer than I had too.

At Anon.33: I'm going to try as best as I can, to not have Nerissa be annoying. I think since she isn't there to fall in love with anybody, it should be doable. Hopefully.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, etc, etc. It all belongs to Cassandra Clare, who, in my humble opinion, did not include nearly enough Alec/Magnus. But that's just me.

It was harder than Magnus thought it would be to ignore the calls. They came at every hour of the day, echoing through his disturbingly empty apartment, ringing in his ears until he blasted the volume on the TV and tried to drown everything else out in the annoyingly English voice of Simon Cowell. But he wouldn't turn the ringer off.

It was part of his punishment, to have his fingers itch towards the phone, to dig his nails into the arm of the chair until his hands ached and he left crescent moons dug deep into the patent leather. He listened to every angry message that filled his voicemail, let Isabelle cuss him out, let Clary sigh with disappointment, let Jace beg for him to come back before Alec ate all his cookies. And every once in a while, Alec would call. And Magnus would listen to his voice, letting each word stab him, letting each choked sound punch him in the face. It was his punishment, his self-inflicted retribution.

Magnus thumbed the keypad on his phone, scrolling through messages left earlier that day, the ones he hadn't had a chance to listen to. He picked one randomly, and held the speaker to his ear.

"Magnus? Please, come on, I know you're there." It was Alec. He sounded faint, far away, his voice scratchy and thick with tears. "Please answer. Please, I just—I just need to talk to you. Please. At least tell someone you're okay. Ple—" Alec's voice broke and there was a hiss of static. "Please. Please pick up the phone."

Magnus bit down on his lip, and hit the button to trash the message, setting his shoulders in preparation for the next.

"Magnus Bane! Answer the god damned phone, right now!" It was Isabelle. Obviously. He thought he heard someone in the background crying, but it might have just been interference. Or maybe it wasn't. "I swear on the Angel Magnus, if you don't get your ass down to the Institute by tomorrow I will come to your apartment and drag it there for you! Do you have any idea what you've done, you son of a bi—" The message cut off with a beep and Magnus dumped it without a second thought.

"Magnus, if you don't settle this thing soon, I swear, Alec's going to start writing morbid poetry and slitting his wrists." Jace. Always so blunt. "He's like a zombie, he doesn't even do anything when I call him a lazy fat ass. I could chuck a soccer ball at his head and he'd still just sit there. AND HE'S EATING ALL MY COOKIES! You owe a good three packs of Oreos and a box of Thin Mints."

Delete. Sigh.

"Magnus? I don't know what happened, but seriously, call Alec, I'm really scared for him." Clary. Always the first to play the guilt card. "If I didn't see him breathing and eating all of Jace's cookies I'd swear he was dead. He loves you Magnus, and you broke his heart." Luke's gruff voice was in the background, but Magnus couldn't catch what he said. "I know you love him. Don't do this. Call him."

Delete. Magnus leaned forward, resting his head against the coffee table, the smooth glass surface cool against his heated skin. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, fighting with the sound of American Idol from the widescreen TV across the room. Whoever was singing was god awful, but Magnus didn't change the channel. It was the insult to his injury, and it made him feel just that little bit less self-loathing.

When he lifted his head, he left an oily smudge against the glass. It was eaten away at the edges, raggedly fading until it disappeared like a childhood memory.

The two-tone sound that signaled an incoming text rang next to his hand. Grimacing, Magnus lifted the phone, running his tired fingers over the flaking rhinestone gems bordering the glowing blue screen. A little envelope flashed beside the words 'new message'. He debated for a moment whether or not to read it. Finally—groaning through his teeth—he flipped open the cell, his nails scraping over the slick silver surface.

Alec ran off by himself and came back bleeding, I don't know what's wrong with him! Please come, if you have any feelings for him left than you'll come to the Institute. Hurry, I don't know how much time he has!

-Isabelle

Sighing, Magnus thumbed out his response, the lines around his eyes deepening with every keystroke.

I am sorry but I cannot come. I'm almost drained of magic. Before I left, I gave Alexander the name of another warlock. Call him.

The answer came just a few seconds later.

He threw it away.

"Dammit," Magnus swore, but not because of Alec, because of his own stupidity. He'd forgotten to keep a copy of the warlock's address. That's what you get when you don't think ahead.

Closing his eyes, Magnus took a series of deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. It shouldn't be pounding away inside his chest. He couldn't let it. This had to end. He couldn't be hung up over Alec for the rest of eternity.

But he couldn't bear to let him die either. His magic might just be a trickle amid a roaring flood, but if it had any chance to keep Alec alive, he would give it all.

He typed out: I'm coming and sent it to Isabelle, draping his coat over his shoulders as he got to his feet. His phone buzzed, making the chair rattle against the rim of the coffee table, emitting a metallic clang, but he ignored it. Slamming the 'off' button on the remote, he kicked Chairman Meow out of his path and made his way to the door, shivering at how empty and desolate his apartment sounded.

Dammit, he thought, as he shut the door behind him, rolling the key until the lock clicked. Damn that child.

Ok, so maybe I'm going to torture a little while longer. Review and I'll write faster, seriously, it's the best motivation I know of. Hopefully I'll be able to post tomorrow, but don't count on it.

(I have nothing against English people, just Simon Cowell.)