A/N: Hello my wonderful followers, readers, Supernatural and Shadowhunters/mortal instruments fans! Magnus is really, really hard to write. Strange since I'm having a ball. XD. Anyway, new chapter! Please enjoy!

Carry on wayward supernatural fans, and happy patrol shadowhunters.

Magnus glanced around his opulent loft, taking in the glittering artifacts and ancient tomes that adorned the shelves. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could revel in the magic and knowledge that filled his life. Tonight, however, his attention was focused elsewhere.
He stood in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his flamboyant purple jacket, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Beside him, Alec, his steadfast and stoic boyfriend, looked dashing in his Shadowhunter gear. It was a rare moment of respite for the couple, a night away from the supernatural chaos that often consumed their lives. Especially recently.
As they made their way to the door, Magnus couldn't help but steal a longing glance at his collection of books. However, the allure of Alec's presence by his side was far greater than any magical tome. With a contented sigh, he closed the door behind them, ready to embrace the night ahead.
Magnus and Alec strolled hand in hand through the bustling streets of New York City. Their laughter echoed through the air, drawing the attention of passersby who marveled at the couple's vibrant energy. Magnus reveled in the feeling of Alec's warm hand in his own, finding solace in their connection.
As they entered a cozy restaurant, the aroma of delicious food enveloped them, filling their senses. They settled into a secluded booth, their eyes locked in a tender gaze. The world around them faded into the background, leaving only the two of them, lost in their own universe.
But even amidst their blissful evening, a faint unease nagged at Magnus. A whisper of disturbance fluttered through his mind, a feeling that something was amiss. It was as if an invisible string connected him to his loft, tugging at his consciousness.
In the depths of Magnus's mind, a surge of panic erupted as he realized what was happening. His precious books, his cherished knowledge, were being violated. Someone had dared to break into his sanctuary and steal one of his most prized possessions.
Alec noticed the sudden shift in Magnus's demeanor, his eyes narrowing in concern. "What's wrong, Magnus?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.
Magnus took a deep breath, his eyes flickering with determination. "Something's not right, Alexander. I can feel it. Someone is in my loft, stealing from me."
Without hesitation, Alec rose from his seat, his hand instinctively reaching for his seraph blade. He knew the depths of Magnus's attachment to his books, understanding the violation that their theft represented.
Together, they rushed out of the restaurant, their steps quick and purposeful. The mere thought of someone defiling Magnus's sanctuary ignited a fierce protectiveness within Alec. He would stop at nothing to ensure that justice was served, and Magnus knows it.
As they arrived at the loft, their eyes widened in shock. The scene before them was one of chaos and destruction. Shattered glass, torn pages, and overturned furniture littered the once pristine space.
Magnus's heart sank as he surveyed the damage, his mind reeling with a mix of fury and sadness. But his resolve remained unbroken, his determination to catch the thief burning brighter than ever.
With Alec by his side, Magnus vowed to track down the culprit and retrieve what was rightfully his. Magnus would not allow anyone to steal from them and disrupt their lives without facing consequences.
In the face of adversity, love and justice would prevail. And Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, would ensure that his book, his knowledge, and his sanctuary were restored to their rightful place.

Sam sat in the dimly lit motel room, rubbing his eyes tiredly. They felt... strange, ever since the reality merge. Like they were buzzing or vibrating, but he couldn't quite explain it. A strange tingling sensation, like pins and needles, but it wouldn't go away.
Sam's mind raced as he tried to understand what was happening. He thought back to the last few hunts, wondering if he had been exposed to some kind of curse or hex. But nothing came to mind.
Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from the ancient tome spread open on the library table. As he pored over the pages, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that tugged at the back of his mind. The lines between their worlds had blurred, and it left him with a sense of foreboding.
"Sam, what's got you so hooked on those books?" Dean's voice broke through his concentration, and Sam looked up to see his brother leaning against the doorframe of the motel room, a curious expression on his face.
"These books, Dean, they're ancient tomes of Shadowhunter history. I borrowed them." It was easier to say that instead of saying that Magnus made him copies. He knew how his brother felt about magic, and he had already made a mistake of explaining to him about Warlocks. Warlocks being part demon unsettled Dean, but Sam, he can sympathize. He technically has demon blood running through his veins. But he wasn't sure if a demon bleeding into his mouth when he was an infant and being born part demon made much of a difference. "They're part of our reality now, and I can't help but wonder what that means for us," Sam explained, gesturing to the books with a mix of fascination and concern in his chest.
Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Come on, Sammy, it's been a few weeks since the merge. We've dealt with weirder stuff than this. What's got you spooked?"
Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, but there's something about this merge that feels different. It's like we're playing with forces we don't fully understand."
Dean studied him for a moment before walking over to the table and picking up one of the books. He flipped through the pages, his expression unreadable. "I get where you're coming from, Sammy. But we've always found a way to deal with whatever comes our way. We'll figure this out, too."
Sam nodded, grateful for his brother's reassurance. "Yeah, you're right. We'll keep digging and see what we can find. I just can't shake this feeling that there's more to this merge than meets the eye."
Dean clapped Sam's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "Well, whatever it is, we'll face it together. That's what we do, right?"
Sam managed a small smile, feeling a bit lighter with Dean's support. "Right. Thanks, Dean."
As they continued to discuss their next steps, Sam couldn't shake off the lingering concern about the implications of the reality merge.
"Dean, I think we should go back to talk with Magnus."
His brother eyed him. "Why? You secretly in love with him or something?"
"No! It's not -" Sam sighed. "Cause', he can help."
"Really? Cause he hasn't yet. It's been weeks, Sam. And his, oh, you know. Part demon. He can't be trusted, Sammy."
Sam's Jaw clenched. He barely restrained himself from snapping that so is he. Sam has demon blood. This whole situation is just bringing back unwanted memories from years ago, that horrible fight that he and his brother gotten into. The stinging in his eyes wasn't helping his mood any.
Rubbing his eyes, he says, "Dean. Maybe he's different. I've been reading about Warlocks. Apparently they're pretty common. But most don't reach childhood or even adulthood. It says that their mothers kill them at the sign of the warlock mark."
Dean's expression turned into horror and then disgust. "Why would they do that?"
"Half a time the mothers are afraid that their children are children of greater demons."
"What is greater demons? And what's wrong with your eyes?"
"As far as I can tell, greater demons are powerful demons. And nothing. I must have gotten something in them."
"Great. Just what we need, more powerful demons." Dean drawled. "Well, who's love child is Magnus's?"
"Don't know."
"Then let's ask."
"Dean, most warlocks don't like to talk about their demon parents."
"How would you know?"
Sam slammed his hand on the table, causing Dean to jump back and raise his eyebrows. Dean's hand lifted off his shoulder and hovered in the air. "Because I don't like talking about the demon blood that runs through my veins! Just like I know Jack doesn't like talking about his father! Because I just know! Okay!?"
They stared at each other, Dean's emotions flying across his face so fast that it gave Sam whiplash. He instantly regretted opening his damn mouth.
A sensation washed over him, causing his skin to prickle with an electrifying energy. It was as if the air itself crackled with an otherworldly power, and a sense of unease crept over him. His heart raced, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was profoundly different.
A surge of raw, untamed energy coursing through his veins.
"Sam,"
"Just forget it." Sam snapped a book shut. He stood, walking over to the fridge to grab a beer, flexing his hand. It wasn't the first time he felt this. But how? He had only felt like this when he drunk demon blood. Somehow this seems to be more powerful, untamed.
Dean's phone was the savior for them both as he quickly snatched up and answered. The stinging sensation in Sam's eyes was starting to cause a headache. "Cas?" Dean asked, pausing for a moment. "Alright, be there as soon as we can." He hung up the phone.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked.
"Jack. He's locked himself in his room and hasn't come out for weeks. Cas said that he was trying to give him space. We gotta go."
"What about the witches and the reality merge?"
"Those bitches are gonna have to wait."
Sam frowned, but nodded.

...

Sam hurried to Jack's room, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on his shoulders. As he approached the closed door, he hesitated for a moment before knocking softly. "Jack, hey. Can I come in?"
The muffled sound of acknowledgment reached his ears, and Sam took it as permission to enter. Pushing the door open, he found Jack sitting on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I don't know what's happening, Sam," Jack murmured, his voice tinged with confusion and concern.
Stepping further into the room, Sam tried to offer some reassurance. "Hey, it's okay."
When Jack finally lifted his face, the sight of his glowing gold eyes sent a shiver down Sam's spine. "They won't go away. Normally they go away when I'm not using my powers. They won't go away," Jack confessed, his distress evident.
Sam's mind raced as he pieced together the puzzle. "Something's not right," he muttered to himself, a realization dawning on him. Jack's eyes have everything to do with the reality merge. He's a warlock.
The gravity of the situation sank in as Sam realized the implications. This was far from a typical case, and he knew they were facing a challenge unlike any they had encountered before.