Author's Note: I update! Yay! Aren't you proud? Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel

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Peter lay in bed, listlessly flicking through the channels. He eventually stopped on a rerun of Charmed and watched Phoebe and Cole have yet another messy break up with an expression of mild interest on his otherwise indifferent face.

He sighed. He wondered what the others were up to. He vaguely remembered that some important people were coming today but couldn't rummage up enough effort to search his brain and find out who exactly it was. Another sigh escaped his lips.

He heard a door slam, frowned momentarily since it was the most interesting thing that had happened all day, and then dismissed it as unimportant. He was just about to switch channels – a reality show had come on – when his bedroom door crashed open.

Sylar stood there, looking incredibly pissed. Peter berated himself for finding this development exciting, blamed it on the fact that nothing exciting had, in fact, happened that day (certainly odd in his ordinary life – interesting things were always happening to him). He decided to ignore the hitch in his breath when Sylar grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. That couldn't mean anything.

His bemused brown eyes met Sylar's murky, wrath filled ones. "You are so fucking dead," Sylar hissed in his face. "What the hell are you doing here, Peter? And sulking? Are you twelve?"

Peter glared at him and pulled away, huffing indignantly. "Am I not allowed to have a personal day?" He winced inwardly at his tone. Had he always sounded this whiny? "And, anyway, why do you care?" That was actually a good question. He decided to roll with it. "Why are you here, Sylar?"

Sylar smirked at him, and Peter tried very hard to resist the urge to knock him on his ass. "I'm here to finish our little conversation," he said, his silky voice making Peter shiver, whether in a good way or not he didn't know. "You disappeared so quickly before."

Peter decided to disappear just as quickly now...and found he couldn't. He stared, open mouthed, at a pleased Sylar, who continued to smirk at him.

"Oh, yes, you've probably realised by now that you can't teleport," he said, laughing slightly. "Sometimes those lawyers are so helpful. Now that you can't leave, I think it only fair you answer my questions..." His eyes twinkled, something Peter found very disconcerting. "Added to which is why the hell Claire Bennet and her entourage are here."

At this Peter remembered who was to be arriving today. Why couldn't Claire have been the one to come and find him? But then Sylar had always been just that little bit faster. And, now that he thought about it, he kind of preferred Sylar to his ex-niece. Sometimes Claire could be scarier than the serial killer, ever since she'd discovered she was a Slayer.

He shrugged. "Probably come to see Fred, how the hell should I know?"

Sylar growled, giving Peter rather pleasant flashbacks to the night before. "Stop lying to me, Peter. I really hate it when people lie to me. I tend to get..." The lamp shade on the left bedside table exploded, tiny pieces embedding themselves in the walls. "...violent."

Peter grinned. Okay, so he had to admit he was enjoying himself. Of course it could just been the remains of the feelings the flashbacks had conjured up. "My, my, aren't we testy today? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" He smirked as Sylar glared at him.

"You are a bastard, Peter Petrelli," he said, fists clenching.

Peter smiled. "Takes one to know one."

His fingers relaxed and, to Peter's utter amazement, he returned the smile. "Tell me why you want to help me, Peter. I want to understand..." He sat on the bed, far enough away so that Peter felt some semblance of safety, although, with Sylar, being on opposite sides of the country didn't necessarily mean you were safe from him.

"I...saw the man you could become," Peter said hesitantly then shrugged. He'd started now. It didn't really feel fair to stop there. "I...liked what I saw, frankly."

Sylar stared at him, expressionless. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe, while you were trying to help me in your – let's face it – horribly inept way, you were pushing me further from that path?"

Peter gazed down at his feet, covered in the blanket. They were nice and cosy. "All the time," he whispered. He abruptly glanced up to glare at him. "I know my plans aren't exactly the greatest – one or two could have used a little fine tuning..."

He heard Sylar mutter, "Ya think?" but ignored him. "...and I know I'm not exactly the smartest guy in the world but I...just wanted to help," he finished lamely. That wasn't the only reason but he didn't really want to go into detail. He had the feeling he would embarrass himself immensely. "And I thought..."

"...that I'd changed?" Sylar asked, and he sounded surprisingly gentle. He grinned when Peter glanced up, surprised. "I hate to break it to you but things just don't happen overnight..." He paused. "Or over two months, as the case may be."

Sylar was suddenly there, right in front of him, his warm breath tickling Peter's cheek. "And this," he said, his fingers ghosting over Peter's increasingly warm skin. "...is why you shouldn't trust me at all."

"Nope, never," Peter agreed, feeling very giddy indeed. He tried very hard to keep a silly grin off his face. "I'll never trust you," he whispered into Sylar's neck as the very man nibbled on his earlobe.

"Then what are you doing right now?" Sylar asked softly, beginning to trail kisses along Peter's cheekbones. "This feels a lot like trusting..."

"No, this is wanting," Peter said, watching his fingers as they ran through Sylar's hair. "There's a difference."

He felt Sylar smile. "Aren't you scared that I might draw a knife on you again?" was whispered into the hollow of his throat. Peter made a sound that could possibly be called a moan.

"Are you going to?" he asked, almost all coherent thoughts having flown the coop. Emotions like fear had followed soon after.

Sylar's hair tickled his chest as the older man shook his head. "Not at the moment. I'm enjoying myself too much."

"That makes two of us."

Sylar glanced up abruptly and the look in his eyes made Peter shiver in a very good way. "But you are going to tell me all about your plans afterwards," he said, his voice so slurred with lust the words were almost indistinguishable. "Aren't you, Peter?"

Peter nodded impatiently. He would have agreed to anything just to get the man to hurry up.

***

"Harmony, where did Sylar go?" Angel asked, staring down at his assistant, his eyes hard as rock.

She jumped, lowered her slurpie and glanced up. "Uh, what, boss?" A look of understanding dawned. It was very noticeable. "Oh, him." She shrugged. "Rushed out of your office awhile ago, didn't really stop and chat." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "If you ask me, he's gone off after that Peter Petrelli guy. Everyone's talking about them." She raised her eyebrows and then went back to work.

Angel sighed. He really didn't need this. Secretly he wondered if it was too much to hope for Peter and Sylar to kill each other. He turned around and came face to face with Spike, who smirked. "Gone off after empath boy, has he?" He shrugged. "Not very surprising."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me, Spike?" He gritted his teeth. Talking to Spike, even if it was for as little as a second or two, always set him on edge.

Spike smirked even wider. "Uh...nope, not that I can think of." He paused. "Well, maybe that you've got one pissed off Slayer in your office and I think you'd better get in there quick and try to placate her."

"Why don't you do that, if you're so clever?" Angel snapped.

"Oh, but I'm not the boss," the blonde vampire said, enjoying himself immensely. He loved winding Angel up. It was practically his favourite sport. He moved off, turning back to say, "I'll just go and see how our Fred is doing."

Spike chuckled to himself as Angel re-entered his office and then moved off to do just what he'd said he was going to do. He found Fred in her lab, talking intensely with Dr. Suresh as that slimy assistant of hers – what was his name, anyway? – hovered nearby. She smiled at him, distracted, and turned her attention back to the doctor.

He left, deciding to visit Wesley and his rather weird project. He bumped into Lyle as he exited Fred's lab. "What the hell are you do here, squirt?" he said, pissed that the kid had managed to scare him just a little.

Lyle ignored the 'squirt' comment and grinned at him. "Just wondering what you were doing," he said. "You're much more interesting than Claire and her Slayer buddies, believe me."

"Don't worry, kid, I do," Spike said absently, trying to concentrate on finding his way down to Wesley. They finally reached the room in question and entered. Spike smirked at Lyle's quick, "What the--"

Sara turned to face them. "Hey," she said in her pop princess sugary voice. Lyle blinked, rubbed his eyes a few times. Her eyes brightened. "Spike, you brought a friend."

"Yeah, this is Lyle," he said, glancing around but finding no sign of Wesley. "Where's Wesley?"

She shrugged and watched out of the corner of her eye as Lyle sidled up to her and prodded her curiously. "Don't know. I think he's checking something with Gunn."

"Well, if you see him, tell him that Angel is probably going to be coming down here to check his progress," he said, smiling at her. "And new friends for you to meet, obviously." His smile widened into a full on sadistic grin. "Why don't you show Lyle here what you can do?"

Sara grinned, clapped her hands excitedly. Wesley rarely let her do what she wanted. Her body began to shiver in front of Lyle's surprised eyes. It shimmered, shifting into a far less outlandish form. A familiar shape too.

His astonished gray eyes met the eyes of his father. "Dad...?" he whispered. He could have sworn his Dad was over in England with the other Watchers. He rubbed his eyes, but no, his Dad was still there, grinning at him. That helped a little. A shapeshifter wouldn't know that his father rarely smiled, let alone grinned.

"Lyle," the shapeshifter pretending to be his father said, his grin vanishing. Now he looked more like Noah Bennet. "What do you think?" The grin appeared again and he did a very un-Noah-like twirl. "Cool, huh?" The shape shimmered for a moment and then Sara was standing in front of him.

He gazed at her. "You're part of the Plan, aren't you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She grinned, twirled again. This process on her original form was very fascinating – and slightly nauseating – to see. "Yup."

"Well..." Lyle rubbed his hands together. "Anyone for more cake?"

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I tossed up between Sylar or Claire going to him but eventually settled on Sylar 'cause I'm such a Pylar freak sometimes. Hope you enjoyed.

Review please.