Longer won. By a LOT. So, I'm sorry to all those people who wanted shorter, I will do my very best so that it doesn't fade.

For people who were confused, Alec was stabbed by the faerie. Which is what drives Magnus off the figurative deep end.

The fight scene is a little shorter than I had planned, but if you want to blame someone, blame my stupid and sadistic muse that likes to watch me suffer from never-ending bouts of horrid writer's block.

Disclaimer: My name isn't Cassandra Clare. I don't pretend to own her characters.

The faerie bled green. It was a bright, neon, acid type green, the kind of color Magnus would love to wear. Or, he would've under normal circumstances. As it was—drenched in a splattering of blood, some red, some green, some his, most not—the whole thing was a bit morbid and creepy.

Magnus was tiring fast. So it wasn't really much of a surprise when the magic faltered and failed, leaving him defenseless to the knight's furious downward stroke.

A slim figure slipped between Magnus and death. There was a pale flash and metal clanged against metal. The figure twisted and the sickly orange light caught his hair, making it sparkle dark gold. Jace. He moved with unnatural speed, his hands mere blurs as his angel blades met the faerie steel and the angel blades won, beating the knight back.

Magnus stumbled away, trying to catch his breath. His arms were lead weights sewn to the trunk of his torso, aching so deeply that his teeth shook in his gums with the effort of holding back screams. His magic was gone, just a dying spark as a reminder that he had ever had it in the first place.

Absently, he wondered if it wouldn't come back this time, if the sleeping beast had ran away for good. What would it be like, to not have magic ready to spring to his fingertips, to clean his house, make his food, heal the bruises he got when he was texting Alec and forgot the number of steps leading up to his apartment. It would be hard. He would survive—he'd learned enough in his nine centuries of life—but it would be hard. He'd start to age, grow hunched and withered until his life was nothing but a memory and he slept under the ground, buried in dirt and flowers, maggots feasting away at his skin for eternity… Eew.

But there was Alec. If every day he stepped closer to the end was spent with Alec, it would be worth it. Knowing that the Shadowhunter was his completely, that he would never outgrow him, because he would grow alongside him. It wasn't preferable, but it was worth it. So worth it.

But they had to survive this first.

So, Magnus shoved aside the pain and forced the slowly dissolving ax to meld into a shimmering blue dome, shielding Alec from the world. Like Snow White. Somehow, Magnus doubted a kiss would wake Alec from his slumber. And even if it would, Magnus doubted he qualified as a Prince Charming.

He turned to Jace—who had been joined by Isabelle wielding her long, twining, bloodstained whip—and frowned. The knight was holding his own against the two Shadowhunters. Of course, he'd probably had a good millennia or two of practice, but…still. It was Jace. That kid breathed violence.

"TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH!" Magnus screamed, gritting his teeth. His knees wobbled and he pressed his palms down on them to hold them still. It didn't work.

Jace glanced over his shoulder and grinned at him, though the smile didn't touch his eyes. "Sorry," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I couldn't decide between the Porsche and the Mustang."

Magnus snarled and his legs folded underneath him, the asphalt scratching his skin through his jeans and banging up the backs of his hands. He swore, and the magic wavered but he forced it to hold its shape. "If we survive this," he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. "I'm going to fucking kill you."

Jace laughed, and through the blood pounding in his ears, Magnus heard Isabelle yelp. At least, he assumed it was Isabelle, as it was high and rather shrill. Opening his eyes, Magnus saw Isabelle step back, clutching her arm, blood welling between her fingers. Jace kept fighting, pausing only to give Magnus a withering look. "It was a joke, calm down."

Magnus didn't calm down. "Slit your throat and let you drown in your own blood."

Jace made a face. "Now that's just disgusting." And then he moaned, and the seraph blade slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground with a sound like shattering glass. Blood splattered his arm and jacket, making it impossible to tell what had happened.

The knight grinned coolly, and raised his sword to kill.

"Jace!" Isabelle cried, darting forward. But Magnus knew she wouldn't be fast enough. No one could help him now.

As the sword fell, shining like a strip of moonlight, Jace didn't even try to move. Maybe he was in shock. Maybe the pain was too much. Maybe he didn't want to move. Maybe he didn't know he should. But all that mattered was that he didn't shift an inch.

Suddenly a chorus of bone-chilling howls split the night in two. Magnus groaned and ground his jaw against the terrible sound, smashing his eyes shut. It didn't help. When he opened them, the howling had stopped and the faerie had vanished. Gone. Poof.

Jace just stood there by himself, looking like an idiot. Magnus couldn't help but enjoy that moment in whatever small way he could.

Isabelle sighed with relief, slinging her whip through a loop on her belt. "He's gone."

Jace unfroze with a jerky shake of his head. "Never assume a faerie is dead," he said, clutching at his side. "They're like cockroaches, you squish them and walk away, and then, two hours later—BAM—your pants start wriggling."

"While this is all very entertaining," Magnus said, letting the magic shielding Alec fade into nothingness. "We don't have time for it."

And it was like they saw Alec for the first time. Isabelle gasped, and Jace just stared in openmouthed horror. Magnus refused to look at the limp body beside him. He didn't need any reminders.

"Someone get him up," he said, pushing himself to his feet. He shook, but managed to stay upright. "He has to get back to the Institute."

Isabelle rushed to her brother's side, leaning down to sweep his bloodied hair aside. She was starting to cry. Jace just kept staring.

"Heal him," Isabelle said, her voice choked with tears. She looked up at him, fragile hope in her dark eyes. He hated to shatter it.

"I can't," Magnus said, shrugging. "My magic—it's gone. I won't get it back for a long time."

Isabelle's face fell in minute increments. "But—"

"Izzy," Jace said, kneeling down on the other side of Alec. "We've got to get him back." Gently—with a kind of tenderness reserved for children who've scraped their knees—he lifted away her hands and wrapped Alec in his arms, standing slowly, shifting around the boy's lanky form.

Alec looked so small. So still. So…broken. Magnus had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop the tears that threatened.

"He's still alive," Jace declared, his voice strangely detached. When he looked up, there was an emptiness in his eyes that made Magnus shiver. "But we have to hurry."

Jace led Isabelle and Magnus to the street, where a beaten up van splattered with mud and worse waited beside the curb. It looked ready to keel over and die.

Magnus couldn't help himself. "What happened to the Porsche?"

"It committed suicide," Jace said, trying to smile. The humor in his voice fell flat. "I stole this one from outside a McDonalds on 9th Avenue."

Magnus snorted derisively as Isabelle slid open the back door, revealing an open space strewn with fast-food wrappers and empty paper cups. There were only two seats. "If you're going to perform grand larceny, at least do it in style."

"Hey, it's two o' clock in the morning," Jace defended, lowering Alec onto the floor. Blood began to pool around him in a little puddle. Grimacing, Jace slid off his jacket, followed by his relatively clean T-shirt. The scars feathering his skin shimmered faintly. "We were just lucky some fat cat-loving old man woke up dreaming about Quarter-Pounders." Tossing the shirt to Isabelle, he put the jacket back on and jumped into the driver's seat. Isabelle got into the back and held her brother's arm, pressing the T-shirt to the gaping wound in his stomach. Magnus followed suit, wrapping his trembling fingers around Alec's disturbingly still hand.

"How do you know he was cat-loving?" Magnus asked, just to keep them talking. The silence was tight and cloying, like he was suffocating.

Jace turned the key and the engine rumbled to life with a roar and a sharp crack of backfire. Pulling out into the street, Jace nearly totaled a Miata, yanking on the wheel at the last possible second. "Driver's license is in the glove compartment," he said, and from what Magnus could see of his reflection in the windshield, it looked like he was concentrating hard.

Magnus raised his eyebrows, more out of habit than anything. They lurched over a pothole and Alec whimpered. Silently, Magnus prayed for Jace to hit the gas. "So?"

The boy laughed without humor. "Trust me, if you could see this guy, you wouldn't be asking."

A thought struck him. "Speaking of licenses," he said, frowning. "Why in God's name isn't Clary driving?"

It looked like Jace rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, because she just recently learned how to astral project." He spun around in the seat, glaring at Magnus, nearly taking out a fire hydrant. "DOES IT LOOK LIKE SHE"S HERE?"

Magnus cocked his head to the side. "Testy."

"He needs his naps," said Isabelle, speaking for the first time. Her voice was quiet, strained. Tears dripped from her chin to mingle with the blood on Alec's shirt. Magnus turned away. "Otherwise, he wakes up all fussy. Clary went to Luke's for help." She smiled just a tiny bit, and Magnus did the same, thinking of the ear-splitting howls. "And I'm pretty sure he saved all our asses."

"Isabelle," Jace said, very calm and controlled. Bipolar asshole, Magnus thought. "I hold all of our lives in my very unpracticed hands. Not pissing me off would probably be wise."

Closing his eyes, Magnus tightened his grip on Alec's hand. "Please tell me this is not the first time you've driven a car."

"It's not the first time," he said, too quickly, too smoothly, too everything. Magnus was sure he was lying.

"Second?" he asked.

"Third," Jace hissed, flipping on the turn signal with an annoyed flick of his wrist. "Thank-you-very-much."

"And how many times have you crashed?"

For once, Jace smiled and it touched his eyes, making them sparkle gold. "Well, third time's the charm, right?"

Suddenly his eyes went wide and he hauled the steering wheel to one side, sending them careening over the curb. "Shit!" he yelled, his head cracking against the window. There was blood on the glass. Blood everywhere.

As they spun out, Magnus thought he saw a figure with green hair standing in the middle of the road.

Isabelle was thrown against one wall, Magnus to the other, his hand ripped from Alec's. He hit with a sickening crunch and deep steely ring that echoed in his ears and made his head ache. Isabelle screamed. Alec was rolling away, towards the slightly ajar back doors…

"No!" Magnus screamed, and threw himself at the boy, hooking his fingers in the lip of his collar. He might've screamed Alec's name, or he might've just thought it.

And then his forehead came down hard on the floor.

And everything went black.

So, tell me what you think. Seriously, every time I read a review my bitch of a muse loses a little ground. Help me improve the random crap I dare to post as an actual story.

And if you're confused, chances are it will all become clear later on. That's what I'm banking on.