A/N: I posted this story on Archive of Our Own a long time ago and I'm not sure why it never made its way here. There won't be any sparkly vampires in my story, just to let you know in advance! Also, the image I've used as the cover is a piece of fanart done by Kanarek13. The actual cover she made specifically for this story is on Archive – on the story's first chapter.

He waited for those beautiful eyes to open, all the while knowing they'd never be the same. It wasn't supposed to be this way and he blamed himself. After all, he'd done this. He wasted so much time trying to protect him when he should have just taken him away where no one would ever be able to find him, but that was very selfish of him and he was nothing if not a gentleman. He watched the body in front of him, noting that the well-toned chest hadn't moved in quite some time. He hated himself for that. How could he have let it come to this? After all of his declarations of love, he'd done the one thing he vowed he would never do and he'd stolen a man's life—drained him of his humanity.

As soon as those eyes fluttered open, he regretted ever putting the young man into this position—for bringing him into his life. He was selfish and foolish to think he could live in both worlds when he'd been warned about the consequences of living in the realm of mortals. He couldn't help it though. This man was a temptation from afar that he wanted to possess, but he hadn't meant to go this far.

He would spend eternity wishing he'd done the right thing. He should have let him die.

•◊•

It all began when Agent Peter Burke got a call about someone setting fire to a home. This wasn't one of his typical jobs, but he went anyway. Something inside of him told him that he needed to be there. When he'd arrived, a house was in flames and there was a woman screaming on the front lawn. "Ma'am, what's going on?" he asked, concerned.

Before she even responded, he knew it. He could smell it. Turning towards the house, his exceptional sense of hearing allowed him to listen to a boy crying out for help, coughing as the smoke suffocated him. He sounded like he was on the verge of giving up hope and just allowing himself to die alone in his home. Peter felt compelled to run towards the house, round the corner, and break the backdoor down.

He darted inside and threw furniture and whatever else was in his way aside. He made it to the room the boy was in and found that he was laying beneath a support that must've fallen from the ceiling. He looked frightened when he saw Peter across the room. Peter hesitated. He knew this was wrong. He'd exposed himself to this child. The fact that he wasn't burning nor sweating is probably what terrified the boy. By all rules of the Illuminatis, he should've just let the child die a natural death without interference. Looking at the child, he felt a connection of some sort. He didn't understand it and couldn't even begin to explain it, but he felt like he needed to save the boy.

Without further hesitation, he sped across the room and lifted the support off of the boy. The young boy scrambled to his feet as he coughed. Peter threw the support away from them and held his arms out. The boy thrust himself into Peter's arms, coughing and crying a little. Peter took him out the way he'd come in. Once he was outside with the child, he was about to set him down on the ground, but the boy clung to him tighter. "You saved me," he whispered, his bright blue eyes lighting up. He looked awed and beyond grateful.

Peter gave him a small smile. "Are you okay, kiddo?" He nodded. "What's your name?"

"Neal. I'm twelve."

"Hi, Neal," Peter said, chuckling lightly. "I'm Agent Peter Burke of the FBI."

The boy's eyes widened and he looked absolutely awestruck now. "Thank you for saving me, Agent Burke."

Peter shook his head, shifting the boy in his arms. "Just call me Peter, Neal."

He carried Neal around to the front of the house and Neal's mother sobbed as she ran to them. Peter was reluctant to hand Neal off to her, but he did anyway. She held him unsteadily and kissed his face as she hugged him."Oh, baby. Oh, God. I'm so glad you're okay." She looked at Peter. "Thank you so much. I…I don't know how to repay you."

Neal smiled at Peter. If Peter's heart were beating, it surely would've skipped a beat at that moment. He felt sickened by himself. Was he attracted to a child? That was disturbing in his mind. Perhaps it was the scent of the boy that made Peter feel compelled to stay near him. "Just take good care of him and that'll be payment enough," Peter said gently.

Neal was watching the firefighters try to put the fire out and the lights of the police sirens lit his face up. He didn't understand how any of this happened, but he was so thankful that Peter came to his rescue. Police officers were coming over to Neal and his mother and Peter knew they'd be asking his mother questions. She set Neal down and turned to speak to the officer. Peter was heading towards his car. He didn't need it, but he had it for appearance's sake. He stopped when he heard footsteps coming towards him. "Agent Peter!" Peter turned around as Neal came to a stop in front of him. "You're leaving?"

"I've got to get back to work, Neal." He glanced up to where Neal's mother was being questioned. "Everything should be settled soon, kiddo."

Neal looked disappointed and then a thought struck him. "Can I go with you? The officer said he might take mom to the station. I'd have to sit by myself."

Peter looked uncertain. This boy could be a temptation that he'd regret. That damn light in his eyes made Peter consider it though. "If your mom says you can, then yes, but I want you to ask her."

Neal grinned and grabbed Peter's hand, dragging him along as they made their way over to his mother. "Mom." Neal's mother turned. "Agent Peter is going to the FBI building to finish some stuff. Can I go with him?"

Had he not just saved Neal from dying inside of a burning house, she probably would have told him no outright. "Sure, Neal. I'll be with Ellen." She gave the address to Peter and asked that he bring Neal straight home as soon as he was done working.

He promised that he wouldn't take long and he'd have Neal home shortly. Peter led Neal back to his car and unlocked the doors so they could get in. Neal hopped into the passenger seat while Peter got in to drive. He couldn't help smiling at how bubbly and eager the boy was. "My dad was a cop. I want to be just like him."

Peter's smile faltered as realization sank in. Neal's dad wasn't inside the house nor was he anywhere near the house. "Where's your dad?"

"Mom told me he died a hero. He took a group of bad guys down, but he got shot."

The fact that Neal didn't sound upset meant that he'd been really young when this happened; young enough not to remember, apparently. "I'm sorry to hear that," Peter said quietly. He glanced over at Neal, his smile returning as Neal peered out the window, watching the darkness. It was pretty late and he wondered if he should just take Neal to Ellen's house.

Neal turned to look at Peter then, smiling shyly. "You're a hero, too, Agent Peter."

Peter chuckled. The kid liked to call him that and he liked it himself. "I'd have to ask what your definition of a hero is."

"Someone who saves someone else," he replied instantly. "You could've let me die in there, but you didn't. You came to find me."

The older man glanced at Neal and wondered if he was injured or burned anywhere. He hadn't shown signs of pain at all, but he might be hyped up on adrenaline and excitement. "Speaking of which, are you hurt?"

"My back and shoulder and leg hurt a little."

Peter frowned. "Maybe I should take you to the hospital instead."

Neal's eyes widened and he stared up at Peter in surprise. "I'm not hurting that bad. I'm okay. I promise, Agent Peter."

"I'll look at your shoulder when we get to the bureau. If it looks bad, we're going to the hospital. Understood?"

He hadn't realized he'd put force into that statement. Neal shied away from him, leaning closer to the door. He was afraid. "Yes, sir."

Peter's lips parted and he reached over, stroking Neal's hair. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He hoped that stroking the boy's hair would soothe him and it worked. Neal actually leaned into his hand. He kept it up until he pulled into the parking area. "Can you show me your shoulder?" He was trying to be careful with his wording because he didn't need this turning around on him, making him some kind of sex offender. That was the very last thing on his mind.

Neal pulled his shirt sleeve up. The shirt looked scorched, so he wasn't surprised to see that Neal's skin was burnt. "How bad is it?"

"Looks like it's just first-degree, which is lucky considering how I found you." He lowered the sleeve. "I could probably help you take care of that upstairs if you still want to come in with me. Otherwise, I can take you home and have your mom help you."

The boy shook his head. "I don't want to go home yet. Can I go up with you? Please, Agent Peter?" When his voice sounded so desperate and pleading, Peter felt like he couldn't say no. He gave the boy a small nod before opening his door and stepping out. Neal did the same, meeting him in front of the car. Peter gestured for him to follow and Neal took his hand, holding it like a father and son would hold hands—or at least that's how he remembered it feeling like this. There was nothing intimate about this and he was grateful for that. Neal was still young and innocent. Peter didn't want to ruin that.

They stood in the elevator in silence. Neal's pulse in his hand was driving Peter insane with need. He'd starved himself over the last few days and now he was really hungry. Once they got to the twenty-first floor, Neal stared at the room through the doors in awe. "Welcome to the White Collar division, Neal."

He took Neal over to the break area and pulled out a couple compresses, handing them to Neal. Neal trailed after Peter as the older man went up into his office. The young boy took the opportunity to sit in the chair in front of Peter's desk, grinning at the older man. "Whatcha workin' on, Agent Peter?"

Peter smiled softly at him. "I have a few reports due by tomorrow morning." Before Neal could say anything else, he wanted to help the boy with his burns. "Lift your sleeve and put the compress on your shoulder." He glanced over the desk and murmured, "If you can roll the leg of your pants up far enough, you can put the compress under it."

"What about my back?"

Peter pursed his lips. Of course Neal would push it. "Neal, I can't touch you."

"You held my hand though."

"That was different."

Neal's brows furrowed. "How?" he asked innocently.

Peter shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "When you're older, you'll know why I can't do that for you." He'd never do anything to Neal. This boy was like his treasure. He was everything Peter wanted in a child of his own before his transformation.

"Agent Peter, I trust you," Neal whispered. "I know you won't do anything to hurt me. You jumped into a burning house to save me." The boy raised an eyebrow, looking defiant. "And I know what you're talking about, too. I'm not dumb."

The older man sighed. "I didn't say you were dumb nor was it implied. You shouldn't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, I do," Neal said with a shrug. "If you think I'm gonna tell them you touched me inappropriately, then you're wrong. I'd be dead if you didn't come for me." His eyes lowered to the desk, drifting completely away from Peter's face. "You saved me, Agent Peter. I owe you."

As Peter led Neal up the path to Ellen's house, he felt like this—being close to Neal—was supposed to be, feeling right in almost every way. Peter rang the doorbell, watching Neal. He'd managed to convince Peter to wrap his torso to keep the compress in place on his back and Peter reluctantly did that for him. He was careful to keep his hands away from places he shouldn't touch, fearing that Neal might not be the little angel he's acted like since Peter saved him. "Neal," a woman, Ellen, said as she opened the door and found the boy there. She smiled and pulled him in for a hug. "Your mom wants you to get ready for bed, sweetie."

Neal turned and looked up at Peter. The older man gave Neal a small smile. He was startled when Neal thrust himself against Peter, hugging him. Peter was surprised even as he rested a hand on Neal's unburned shoulder and hair. "Thank you, Agent Peter," he whispered. "I'll never forget you."

After he said good night to the boy and woman, he stood in front of the closed door, whispering, "I'll never forget you either."

•◊•

"Honey, you need to reach out to him."

Peter glared at the woman beside him. "It's been almost a decade. I'm fairly certain a young, beautiful twenty-one year old man like him has a relationship with another young, beautiful person. Even as this monster, I'd never be good for him—appearance-wise or in general."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him. "You've been stalking him all these years. You have his records laying around your bedroom, babe. Just go talk to him. The most he could do to hurt you is say he isn't interested in you like that." She kissed Peter's cheek. "You'll never know until you try though, right?"

"Today's his twenty-first birthday," Peter murmured, lowering his gaze to the floor. "He'll probably go to a bar with a bunch of his friends and get drunk. What fun is an old man with kids like him?"

She shrugged, rising from the couch. "I'm about to go see him myself. He and I could be really good friends and then he'll accidentally see that you and I are friends."

"Just forget it, El. I'm not good enough for him." Peter got up and darted out of the room, heading up the stairs. Forcing himself to walk took a lot of effort sometimes because he's able to run freely through his home, running so fast that he'd be unseen by the human eye. Peter grabbed his folders from his bedroom and went back downstairs. "See you later," he mumbled as he walked out of the house. He loves Elizabeth. After all, she's the one who saved him and taught him how to live this way. He just hates when she tries to find him a love interest. Humans will die in time—or by his doing—and he didn't think he could live with himself if he became attached and accidentally killed his lover. Elizabeth went through that. She's a tough woman and came out of it all right, but she still regrets the events of the night she'd killed him. He wouldn't be able to go a day without hating himself—especially if Neal became one of his unfortunate victims.

The man was beautiful now. He definitely grew up in more ways than one as far as Peter could tell. Peter didn't know all of the little details to Neal's life, but Neal was living on his own with a terrible job that paid him less than minimum wage. Whenever Peter spent time outside of Neal's small apartment in one of the less reputable neighborhoods, he felt sick. He didn't want to leave Neal in a place like this, but he couldn't interfere with Neal's life. He'd seen another man with Neal a few times and that discouraged him for a few months, but then he'd picked up his obsession with Neal once again and it refused to go away.

He spent his morning and a good portion of his afternoon filling out reports that kept piling up. He always seemed to be too busy when deadlines were nearing.

Diana dropped a file onto Peter's desk, smirking when he looked up at her. "We got a visual on James Bonds."

"I've heard that before."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "No. I mean we got him." Peter raised his eyebrows, rising from his chair. "He's in the interrogation room now. I figured you might want to see him. He hasn't spoken to any of the other agents."

"I have ways of getting criminals to talk," Peter said confidently, strolling out of his office. Diana trailed after him. She knew Peter was a great agent, but she had no idea how he did it. He always made the criminals talk and she found it bizarre. Well, she wasn't the only one to find it bizarre. They strode down the hall and he came to an abrupt stop as he peered through the glass window—a one-sided view. "He's James Bonds?"

Diana nodded. "Yep. We caught him while you were on your lunch break. He was hanging around a bar with a man we've had on our radar for quite some time. Needless to say, things got rough and they exposed themselves." Peter couldn't take his eyes off of the man in the interrogation room. This wasn't what he expected. He would have known. He'd been quiet too long, stuck in his confusion and utter disbelief. "Boss? What is it?"

"Ah, nothing," Peter deflected. "I'll talk to him. You go work on some reports if you can. Jones might need some help." She hesitated, but did as she was told, taking her leave. Peter didn't make any moves for at least a full minute. He was just staring at the man whose hands were cuffed together in front of him on the table, his head bowed. He could smell blood inside the room and immediately knew it belonged to Neal. His temple and lip looked bloody. His throat and right cheekbone were bruising. He just looked like an absolute wreck and it made Peter miserable. Reluctantly, he walked around the corner and pushed through the glass doors, startling the young man.

His head lifted and he stared at Peter sharply, his eyes calculating the possibilities of the conversation. He was looking for a weakness in these agents, one he could work with and manipulate. None of them held the authority to do any such thing, so he refused to speak to them. "I didn't do anything wrong," he said firmly.

Peter was surprised to hear how guarded the man in front of him was. He took a seat, folding his fingers on top of the table. "If you didn't do anything wrong, then you shouldn't be withholding information and avoiding questioning."

"I'm Neal Caffrey. Look me up in your databases or whatever you've got here that stalks those of us who can't afford the same education you got." Peter was taken aback by the hostility. "All you people do is grab lowlifes like me for kicks, right?"

"Listen," Peter said tightly, leaning forward. "I want to help you. I'm not looking to incriminate you and we might be able to work some kind of deal if you cooperate." This man was nothing like the little boy he'd rescued from a fire nearly a decade ago. Hell, this man was nothing like the man he watched in the late hours of the evening. "Tell me what you got yourself into at the bar before my agents arrested you."

Neal scoffed, looking away from the older man. "There's no point," he murmured. "You've already made your judgment about me. Nothing I do or say will change your mind. I already know I'm going to get thrown into prison." Peter was silent before tentatively reaching across the table to take Neal's hand in his. The young man looked offended until he realized the point Peter was making. His eyes lowered to their hands, widening, and then he met Peter's eyes. "Agent Peter?" he whispered. Neal's fingers closed over Peter's hand, holding onto his hand like a lifeline.

"Yes," Peter said quietly.

"I heard rumors that you left the city after some case gone wrong," the young man said, sounding dazed. "Wow. I feel like a dick now. I'm sorry for—"

Peter shook his head. "Don't apologize." Neal nodded slowly, tilting his head to the side to look at Peter again. "Care to share your plans?"

Neal's face heated up and Peter had to put a lot of effort into staying put. The blood rush to his cheeks and the audible, increased pulse was making Peter's mouth water. "I, uh…" The younger man shook his head. "I don't really have a plan," he finally admitted. "I was hoping you'd offer me some options, honestly."

Peter opened the file he'd been given about James Bonds—Neal Caffrey. "Neal, your options are practically nonexistent at this point. You've been charged with bond forgery, but there are several other crimes you're suspected of that we can't prove you did." He met Neal's eyes, seeing the desperation and apology in them. "Honestly, the most I can do for you is try to get you a decent cell."

The younger man nodded, gazing at Peter unseeingly. He never imagined Peter arresting him. If anything, he'd dreamt of Peter pretending to arrest him, which led to several different sexual scenarios. "How long is my sentence?"

"Four years," Peter said quietly. Neal gaped at him, his expression full of pain. "I'm sorry, Neal. There's nothing else I can offer you at this moment in time." He regretted coming in to see Neal. He hated seeing him this way. He'd comforted Neal from afar during a particularly rough breakup the young man experienced. That had been three years ago and Neal still had no idea who sent him such sweet letters, bundles of flowers, and boxes of chocolate. He always received something sweet on his birthday and on Valentine's Day. He had no idea that it'd been Peter the whole time. Neal was intrigued by his mystery lover, but he never managed to catch him. He knew it was a him because of the way the letters were written. They were extremely sweet, but definitely expressed a bit of nervousness and authority, which he liked. He also didn't care for women, so he assumed a man was interested in him.

Peter loved the smiles he put on Neal's face every year. So far, he had yet to give Neal a birthday present. This definitely wasn't what he had in mind when he was trying to think of a good gift. "You're doing your job," Neal said respectfully. "I can't and won't ask you to go easy on me. You saved me once and I won't ask you to do it again."

The older man's chest felt hollowed, more so than usual. "I'd… All right." A small trickle of blood slid down the side of Neal's face. It was very miniscule, unless you craved blood. "How did you get so roughed up?"

"One of my partners took me out for some drinks. Matthew Keller—he and I have worked on cons together." Peter's surprise was well hidden as he watched Neal. He had no idea that Neal was living this way. Whenever he saw Neal, the young man was acting like a commendable citizen. Never would he have believed Neal capable of committing crimes. "I was… I was backing out of a con and he wasn't very happy with that, obviously. He started out by hitting me with his bottle and then it got really physical." His eyes hardened as he said, "Then your agents picked me up while Keller got away." Before Peter could respond, Neal growled, "I'm not a murderer. He is. They accused me of assisting in several murders that I was nowhere near when they happened."

Peter nodded, resting his other hand atop both of Neal's. "I know you aren't a murderer," Peter said quietly. "It was accusation through association, Neal. We have no proof that you were involved, so we can't hold you on that."

"Agent Berrigan told me the marshals are coming to pick me up," he said quietly. "So… I suppose this is goodbye then."

When Neal looked at Peter, Peter knew there was some underlying attraction. Perhaps Neal wouldn't admit to it, but it was definitely there. "You'll be out in four years," Peter said gently. "This isn't goodbye. We'll… We'll see each other again."

Neal looked skeptical as a marshal came into the room. "Peter," he pleaded, getting Peter's full attention. "I have a lover. He… He sends me gifts on Valentine's Day and my birthday." His eyes lowered to the table as he asked, "Do I have the right to ask if you could bring them to me until I'm free again?"

Peter gave him a small smile. Neal called him his lover—and Neal didn't realize it. "I can do that for you," Peter said softly. It gave him an excuse to see Neal two days out of the year for the next four years.

"Thank you," he said, sounding eternally grateful. He rose from the chair and was being escorted out of the interrogation room. He paused beside Peter briefly, looking down at the older man sadly. "I'm sorry for ending up like this after what you did for me," he whispered, resting his hands on Peter's shoulder. The agent lifted one hand to squeeze Neal's fingers. "I'll…change, Agent Peter."

Peter nodded slowly, believing the young man. There didn't seem to be a single ounce of evil in him, so Peter knew he'd turn himself around. "Take care of yourself, Neal." He released Neal's fingers and refused to turn around to watch the marshal escort Neal out. He sat in the interrogation room for quite some time alone, wondering how the angel he'd rescued became a criminal without his knowledge. When did he miss a change this drastic? It made him feel empty inside, realizing he didn't know Neal as well as he thought he did. Regardless of the file he'd built on Neal, he'd never once realized how involved Neal was in the crime world. It bothered him because he thought he'd done something good for Neal, helped him set a good future for himself. Now, he only saw himself as losing his status of hero in Neal's eyes as he became the villain Neal tried to evade for a little over two years. He believed Neal could come out of this as a reformed man and he certainly hoped he was right. Four years was plenty of time for Neal to consider things.

•◊•

In the dark of the night, a man stumbled out into an alleyway, laughing as another man followed him in the same state. They were obviously intoxicated, but neither of them received sympathy from the man watching them fiercely. Their attacker never considered himself to be a very violent man, but this was justice—and revenge simultaneously. He knew what he'd done was wrong as soon as the bodies were drained of their life. He left them as the sky rained down on them heavily.

The remnants of their blood seeped down the incline, dripping through a storm drain. It would all wind up in the sewer—a fitting end to people as undeserving of life as they were. It was a risqué judgment, but their attacker decided to go through with his rage. He couldn't handle the thought of letting someone like this man run free while others suffered at his hands or by his actions. The other victim was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and no witnesses could be left alive or he risked exposing himself.

He crept into the shadows, leaving his prey behind. His task was completed and he felt fulfilled. Now, all he had to do was patiently wait.