Author's Note: I'm liking this more and more. Little background is in order, I suppose. This is set in Angel season 5 but basically it just has them working for Wolfram and Hart and little else. Also set in Heroes volume 3 except without the whole pesky Arthur Petrelli-ruins-everything storyline.

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel

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Angel leaned back in his far more comfortable chair. "So, Peter, what do you have planned for the lovely Mr. Sylar?" he asked, his voice rife with sarcasm.

Peter grinned, crossing his arms as he rested against the wall. "Now, that would be telling."

Angel was silent for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the empath. "Why do you even care? Hasn't he tried to kill you more than once?"

Peter was silent. When his future self had taken him to the future he had met the man Sylar would become. Peter had become convinced that Sylar only needed a push in the right direction. That, of course, had been far from the truth. He'd tried reasoning with the man but to no avail. Or, at least, none that he could see. This saddened him because he – and he alone – knew the true extent of their relationship in the future.

He glanced up to see the vampire watching him intently. He smiled. "I have my reasons."

Angel said, slightly bemused, "I'm sure you do."

Lorne chose that moment to burst through his doors, a great smile plastered across his green face. "Angel cakes!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you warn me Tall Dark and Handsome was back?"

Peter smirked as Angel tried unsuccessfully to allow the ground the swallow him whole.

***

Spike led Sylar to an apparently empty conference room. He lit another cigarette and watched Sylar thoughtfully. "Why don't you just tell them?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Sylar looked up at him and grinned. "Everyone has their secrets."

Spike snorted. "Some more than most."

He left before Sylar could say another word, possibly to ask why the hell he was in the room to begin with. He gazed around, slightly bored as he heard the door click shut and the key turn in the loc k behind him. He smiled. As if locks would ever stop him.

"You know, I don't appreciate being locked up," Sylar said mildly, his back to the door. "Believe me, it never ends well."

"Oh, I think you'll find I'm quite capable of looking after myself," a gruff British voice said behind him. He spun around, wondering absently where the sudden influx of Brits had come from, only to find nothing there. He frowned.

"Okay, enough," Sylar said, more angry than afraid. He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd been afraid, come to think of it. "Show yourself."

Someone sighed, rather disgruntled, and he spun to face the other side of the room. A bearded man gazed at him, amusement in his eyes. "Spoil my fun, why don't you," he said.

Sylar blinked. "An invisible man?"

The man nodded, waiting for his reaction. He didn't have long to wait.

Grinning, Sylar exclaimed, "You've met him, haven't you? Ha! I knew Peter was behind all this."

Just as he was giving himself a mental pat on the back for figuring it all the man said mildly, "Why is your first thought always of him?"

Sylar blinked. "Huh? Who?" What was the guy talking about?

The man smiled and sat down. He'd been standing for quite some time and was relieved that he was finally able to sit. He wasn't getting any younger. "Peter Petrelli. Do you really think he is behind everything?"

His mouth agape, Sylar stared at the man. "Who cares? He's behind this, isn't he?"

Instead of answering, the man returned to his feet. "Now, we're going to play a little game," the man said, picking up a long wooden pole left conveniently on the table. "I'm going to say something – really, it could be anything – and you aren't going to think of Peter Petrelli. I know," he said, spying Sylar's incredulous expression. "It will be difficult to begin with but eventually..." He bashed him behind the knees, making him stumble. "...you'll get the hang of it."

"What the--" Sylar began only be interrupted by the man shouting, "Water!"

Oh god. His dream last night...the ice cubes...Peter trailing them down his chest...

The pole seemingly came out of nowhere, hitting him square in the chest. He doubled over in pain.

"Oh, come on!" the man exclaimed. "You can do better than that! Ground!"

Damn those stupid dreams! He remembered Peter pushing him to the ground...

His head pounded from another strike from the pole. What the hell was this anyway? How was this supposed to redeem him? Or did someone just take pleasure in seeing him get wacked repeatedly by some British guy with a stick?

"Rain!"

Sylar's eyes widened. Rain? Don't think it. Don't think it. Oh god...Peter in the rain, drops running down his skin...

The pole struck him on his upper arm and he winced. But just beyond the pain lay another, much more useful, emotion: anger.

He ignored the man's latest word and waited for the blow to come. As it did he pushed it back mentally, his telekinesis finally coming in handy. The pole broke.

"Cheat," the man said but he was grinning.

For some reason Sylar grinned back.

The man held his hand out for Sylar to shake, which he did. "Claude Rains. Pleased to finally meet you."

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I'm sure all of you guessed that before the end.

Review please. It is always appreciated.