"It's his?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Of course! There's no way it's not!"

"I don't believe this!"

"What are we going to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? We have to get rid of it!"

"No! He's my son!"

"He's the son of that thing, Alyssa!"

"I don't care, Andrew! He's my son, too!"

"We can't let him live, you understand? We can't let him be born!"

"Why? Because of his father?"

"Exactly! The son of a killer will be a killer!"

"So all people like that have no hope? People like us, Andrew?"

"No! You know what I mean!"

"No, I don't!"

"Abilities are genetic, Lyss. They're inherited. What happens if he's born with the father's ability?"

"But what if he's not? Did you ever think of that? What if he's born with mine?"

"It's highly unlikely, Alyssa!"

"Why?"

"Because… Because he's the father. And his father had the same ability. They're all killers!"

"I don't care! He might be Sylar's child, but he's mine, too!"


Nineteen Years Later.

The dream had haunted Blake for most of his life.

Every time, he'd find his mother dead on the ground, the top of her head gone. There would be blood everywhere, covering the area.

And covering his hands.

Every time, he'd force himself to look and see if he was the murderer. And, each and every time, he was.

So, when the reality came, it was much worse.

He entered the room to find his mother dead on the floor. Blood ran everywhere.

His breath caught in his throat and tears sprang to his eyes. He would have looked at his hands to see if the blood was there as well, but something stopped him.

Or rather, someone.

The air rushed out of his lungs as he was forced against the wall. He tried desperately to get away, but he simply couldn't move.

"It was a shame, really." A dark figure emerged from the shadows. "I actually liked her."

Blake glared at him.

"But…" The man continued. "In nineteen years, I couldn't find someone with her ability. So, naturally, I had to come back." He sighed. "I was rather hoping her black hole-creating brother would show up. Instead, I get you." He stopped in front of Blake, one finger raised level with his forehead.

"Now. Do you have an ability?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Naturally."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Well. That was easy. Usually, I have to pry it out of someone." He shrugged, lowering his hand as he realized he no longer needed it to torture someone who was offering the information he wanted willingly. "What is it?"

Blake sighed. "Nothing you need, Sylar. Believe me."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Right. You know my name, which means she told you about me." He gestured to Alyssa's body on the floor, bringing a wave of bile to Blake's throat at how casually he handled the murder. "Meaning, you are either a close friend, or family."

Blake tried to nod. "Family."

"Which explains why you have an ability." Sylar nodded approvingly. "But that brings back the question of what your ability is."

Blake said nothing.

Sylar smirked. "Fine. Have it your way." He raised the finger to his forehead again.

Blake rolled his eyes. "You don't scare me, Sylar."

"Why?" Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Because you can't die, perhaps?"

Blake snorted. "No. I can die."

Sylar smiled. "Well, then."

He sighed. "I know how things work. Just like you." He tried to shrug. "I inherited it from my father."

Sylar rolled his eyes and released him, sending Blake to the floor, where he landed expertly. "Well, if that's it, then I have no use for you."

But there was something in his eyes. Faint, hidden well, but definitely there.

The tiniest glimmer of panic.

Blake smiled as he noticed it.

"Was she your mother?" Sylar asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

Blake nodded.

Sylar's breath caught in his throat, and Blake practically see Sylar counting back the years, trying to figure out if maybe, just maybe, it was possible.

Finally, he looked at Blake. "How old are you?"

Blake pretended to act innocent, though inside he was laughing. Sylar had never truly known about the woman he'd just killed. "Nineteen. Why?"

True fear raced through Sylar's eyes. "N-Nineteen?"

Blake nodded.

Sylar swallowed. "Impossible…" He breathed.

"What?"

Sylar gripped Blake's shoulders. Terror was racing through his eyes. "Do you know who your father is? Do you know?"

Suddenly, Blake grinned. "Of course, Sylar."

"WHO?"

The smile on Blake's face turned dark. "You, Sylar. You are my father."


Sylar was still sitting on the couch that he'd stumbled into at Blake's revelation.

Blake was carefully lifting his mother's body from the floor. He swallowed. "She needs her brain back, asshole."

Sylar sighed. "It's in the other room."

Blake flinched, unsure if he could handle that. "I'll… get it in a second…" He whispered, trying to clear up his mother's blood from around her face.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "How are you my son?"

Blake glared at him. "The son of a killer isn't always a killer." He shot back.

Sylar snorted. "I was."

"You didn't have to be."

Sylar looked at him. "It's in our blood, Blake. In our very genes. We have to kill. There's no other option."

"Maybe not for you."

"So you're telling me that you haven't killed? Not even once?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes. I know what it feels like. The desperate need for power. No one can ignore that for nineteen years."

Blake sighed. "You're right, Sylar. I did kill. Once." His eyes closed. "A long time ago. I wasn't proud of it, but it happened."

"Did she know?" Sylar asked, gesturing to Alyssa's body.

Blake smiled humorlessly. "How could she not?" His voice cracked. "It was her brother."


Sylar couldn't believe that this was his son.

Blake was carefully fixing his mother's body. He truly cared.

The thought made Sylar sick. His son, something this weak.

And yet…

"So. You can't heal?" He asked.

Blake laughed. "Don't even try it, Sylar. You take one step near me and I'll have you in a black hole before you could scream." His eyes narrowed. "I know how killers think, remember?"

Sylar sighed, knowing that Blake was right. He'd been hoping to take his son's ability right then and there. It would make things so much easier for him…

But he said nothing.

Blake walked to the other room to get his mother's brain. He swallowed, trying not to look at it as he placed it back in his mother's head.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "She's already dead, Blake. Just take her ability! It's not like it will make a difference!"

Blake glared at his father. "It makes a difference to me."

Sylar snorted.

Blake said nothing further.

Sylar sighed. "That's it. I'm out of here." He started to walk towards the door.

Blake didn't protest, so Sylar left.


It wasn't exactly a typical funeral.

For some reason, the sun had decided to shine on one of the worst days in Blake's life. He'd thought that the sun should be covered, that rain should pour on his head. But no, it was a clear and beautiful day.

There were only one or two people there who didn't have abilities, and those few knew about them. They knew that his mother could make people do whatever she wanted them to. They knew what Blake was capable of, and often kept their distance.

As the few people who didn't know about abilities left, those with them said goodbye in their own ways. Blake saw pictures of his mother created of both water and fire. He saw a storm over one person's head as he also decided that the weather wasn't appropriate for this day. Clara, an old friend of the family, was having a hard time keeping solid, trying not to merge with the shadows.

And, behind all that, a serial killer watched.

Blake sighed as he walked up to his father. "You don't seem like one for funerals. Especially if it was one of the people you killed."

Sylar sighed. "I knew you'd be here. I had to find you."

"Oh?" Blake raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Sylar glared at him. "Because, despite the fact that you're an accident, you are my son."

The corner of Blake's lip twitched upwards in a smile. "I'm touched by your concern."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

Clara walked up to Blake, her eyes hard as she glared at Sylar. "You need anything, Blake?"

He shook his head. "No thanks, Clara. I have everything under control."

"What's he doing here?" Adrian, the weather-controller, came up to Sylar, his face twisted with hate.

Sylar raised his hands slightly, surrendering. "I just came for Blake."

"Too bad!" Clara hissed. "His mother kept him away from you for a reason!"

Sylar glared at her. Blake stepped in between the two before an all-out war could start. "Enough. It's ok, Clara."

Clara glared at him. "Blake, your mom didn't want you anywhere near him!"

"I can handle myself." He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "It'll be ok."

The others looked at him for a long time. Finally, Adrian nodded.

"Very well, Blake. But remember. We'll be watching."

He walked away. Clara melted into the shadows, and the others slowly went away, leaving Sylar and Blake alone.

Sylar sighed. "Look. I can't just leave you alone."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Why not? I'm nineteen. An adult. Old enough to take care of myself."

Sylar glared. "That's not what I mean. Have you ever heard of The Company?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Of course. They hardly know about me."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Look. Just… Just come with me. I want you to meet someone."

Blake looked at him. He seemed genuinely concerned.

Finally, he sighed. "Fine."


Claire Bennett sighed. It had been a few years since she'd stopped ageing, and it was somewhat strange to look in the mirror and know that this was exactly what she would look like in another hundred years.

Someone knocked on the door. She sighed again and walked over to it.

She opened it, her breath catching in her throat. "Sylar!" She breathed.

Sylar smiled. "Hello, Claire."

She glared at him, then noticed the other man, standing behind Sylar. "Who is he?"

The man smiled. "Oh, hi. I'm Blake."

She raised an eyebrow.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Can we come in?"

Claire's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"We just want to talk, Claire."

She sighed and opened the door wider to let them in. "Just make it quick." She snapped.

Blake looked at her, an apology in his eyes as he followed Sylar inside.

Sylar sat down, but Blake stayed standing. Sylar rolled his eyes and yanked his arm until he fell into the couch with an undignified 'oof.'

Claire sighed. "Make yourself at home." She muttered sarcastically.

"Sorry." Blake apologized.

She raised an eyebrow as Sylar rolled his eyes again.

Claire sat down in front of them. "So. What do you want?"

Sylar swallowed. "There isn't exactly an easy way for me to say this, Claire, but Blake… Blake has my ability."

"Oh?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Thank you so much for telling the world." He snorted. "I'm not exactly proud of it."

Claire looked at him for a long time. "I'm confused." She said at last.

Blake smiled. "Very well. Let me explain." He looked at Sylar. "I think I know why we're here."

Sylar sighed.

Blake looked back at Claire. "I'll make this as simple as I can." He pointed to Sylar. "I'm his son."

Claire's eyes widened, and Sylar glared at Blake.

"You didn't have to tell her everything." Sylar hissed.

Blake shrugged unapologetically. "You told her I had your ability."

Claire looked at Sylar. "I can't see you having a son."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "It was an accident."

Blake snorted. "Oh, thanks. You're real great confidence booster, dad."

Claire chuckled. "That is so weird. You're a dad?"

Sylar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes. I'm a dad, Claire. Get over it."

Claire laughed, and Blake grinned.

"That is… that's… I can't even…" Claire laughed again.

Blake smiled. "Tell me about it."

"All right, we've all had a laugh. Big deal, I'm a father." Sylar sighed. "It was bound to happen eventually."

Blake rolled his eyes. "You should have seen his face when he found out." He laughed. "Nineteen years, and he never had a clue!"

She smiled. "That's… amazing." Her smile stretched into a grin. "What about your mom?"

Blake's eyes darkened. "He killed her. Nineteen years after he met her."

Claire swallowed. "I'm… I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "She knew it would happen one day. If it wasn't me, it'd be him."

Claire looked genuinely upset. "I'm really sorry." She glared at Sylar. "That must suck."

Blake grinned. "Kind of. My dad kills my mom. Not the best start to a day…" His eyes glazed over as his thoughts drifted.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Look. We're here because he only has one ability. And he's got this whole, I'm-not-going-to-kill-anyone-because-it's-wrong-and-I'm-better-than-that-so-I'm-going-to-ignore-my-own-DNA thing going on, so I figured the first time should be someone who can't die."

Blake stood. "Forget it, Sylar. I'm not going to kill anyone, even someone like her."

But Claire shrugged. "It's ok, Blake. It's not like it hasn't happened to me before."

Blake shook his head. "It's not happening, Claire." He looked at her. "Thank you for your time, but we'll go now."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Come on, Blake! She's right there! She's not going to fight you; she doesn't even care if you take her ability! Why won't you just do it?"

Blake glared at his father. "Because that's the start, Sylar. You give into it once, and it's so much harder not to give into it again."

Sylar stared after Blake as he made his way to the door. "You can't be serious!"

Blake turned to face him once more. "I'm completely serious. I survived for nineteen years without her ability. I can survive the rest."

Sylar stared again, dumbfounded.

Suddenly, fury flashed in his eyes. He lifted his hand, throwing Claire into the wall.

"Would you listen to yourself?" Sylar spat. "You act like you're so much better than everyone else! Just take the ability already!"

Blake's fingers flexed. "Don't make me a murderer."

"It's not murder! She can't die!"

"I was talking about you." His eyes were hard. "I can kill you, Sylar. Despite everything, it's still possible."

Sylar swallowed.

"Now. Put her down, dad."

Sylar glared at him, but slowly lowered Claire to the floor. "You're making a big mistake." He hissed.

Blake walked over to Sylar. "I don't want to be immortal. I don't want her ability, and I don't want anyone else's." He turned and walked out of the room.

Sylar took a deep breath.

"Are you sure he's your son?" Claire asked.

Sylar rolled his eyes and followed Blake. He'd been asking himself the same question for a long time.


"Blake!"

Blake ignored Sylar as he kept walking.

"Blake!" Sylar came up next to him. "What is wrong with you?"

Blake laughed humorlessly. "You know, I should be asking you the same question."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Look. Why won't you take her ability?"

Blake sighed. "Because that's how it started last time." He looked down. "With my uncle."

"The guy who created black holes?"

Blake snorted. "I prefer to think of them as actual people, Sylar. Not just abilities."

Sylar sighed. "Well, there's your first problem."

Blake rolled his eyes. "But, when I killed him, everything seemed so much worse. It never gets better, just worse, every time you kill." He sighed. "That's why I'm never going to do it again."

Sylar looked at him. "Look at you! You're my son! You're not some wimp, you're a killer! Don't you get that? You were born a murderer."

Blake whirled to face him, gripping his shoulders with hands like iron. "I am not a murderer. Understood?" His eyes narrowed.

"Yes, you are." Sylar replied.

"I'm not!" he snapped.

Sylar looked at his son for a long time. Finally, he sighed. "I just don't want you do die."

"Since when do you care?" He demanded. "You didn't even know I existed!"

"She made me promise!" Sylar hissed back. "And, for some unfathomable reason, I did!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your mother! She made me promise to take care of you!"

"And you agreed?"

"I had no choice!" Sylar shot back. "She took away my will! I have to do it!"

Blake thought about that for a moment. Suddenly, he laughed. "So that's it. You're not worried about me. You're just trying to make sure I can't die, so you can get on with your life!"

"Exactly!" Sylar said, rolling his eyes. "Do you really think I'd want to make sure you were ok simply because you were my son?"

Blake swallowed. "Actually, I didn't expect anything."

Sylar sighed and pulled out a knife that he'd snatched from Claire's kitchen, handing it to Blake. "Just take her ability. Or mine! I don't care! I just want you out of my life!"

Blake snatched the knife from Sylar's hands. He turned it over in his hands for a moment, then dropped it, a smile on his face. "No."

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean I'm not going to do it. You can keep your ability."

"You have to!"

Blake grinned. "No, dad. I don't have to do anything. You're the one who has to do something." He laughed. "Now, you have to stick around. Maybe some of the stuff my mom's taught me will rub off on you."

"I don't believe this…" Sylar swore.

But Blake kept smiling. "You're going to have to stick around and watch my every move. You have to."

Sylar swore again, repeatedly. "This is bullshit… Why can't you just take the ability?"

But Blake was still laughing. "Father and son time…" He chuckled.

Sylar's hand sparkled, but there was nothing he could do. Alyssa's dying words had been a command, a command he couldn't ignore.

Whatever happened, he was stuck with his son.