Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and everyone who has put this story on their favorites. I hope you like this chapter. Let me know =P

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, or any of the characters.

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He went after the person who seemed like the most threatening. His arm shot out, his fingers spreading as he drew his telekinetic power from within. Matt went flying up against the wall, his arms flailing and his legs kicking furiously. Noah held the gun up, aiming it right at Sylar's head. His hold was choking Matt, and his angry eyes shot to Noah.

"Don't act like you can hurt me, Bennett. I could kill all of you before you even fired your second shot."

"I only need one," He said lowly, his gun train at the space between Sylar's dark eyes.

"You imprisoned me for 2 years, you didn't expect slaughter? You didn't expect a punishment?" He shouted, his hand shaking.

Peter was ready to spring into action; he recently acquired super speed ability. He would get Claire out of here before Sylar could hurt her. Angela sat calmly on the couch, her hands in her lap. Claire stepped out from behind Peter, and Sylar seemed to have notice her for the first time. His hold didn't waver, but with unsteady eyes, he glanced back and forth between Matt and her.

"Claire is in danger, Sylar." Angela's calm voice broke through the room.

"What does this have to do with me?" His voice was rough; he was determined to keep his focus on Matt. He was no longer choking him now, just holding him in place.

"Your father is coming for her. I've seen it, and he won't stop just at taking her power. He'll make sure she stays dead."

Claire glanced back and forth between Angela and Sylar. His composure changed, and he released his hold on Matt, letting him drop to the floor. Matt gasped for breath, his hand rushing to his neck, trying to grope around for any signs of injuries.

Sylar hadn't detected any lies in her words, but just in case, he turned to Angela to ask her a few questions. "So what are you asking me to do?"

"He won't stop, even if we try to put him away. Kill your father, protect Claire." Her voice didn't waver, the strength she lacked earlier had returned. "And what happens when this is all over? What happens when he's dead?"

Angela hesitated, knowing the words she chose next would affect everyone in the room. And not everyone would be happy with it. "It's your life, Sylar. But I hope you make the right decisions. You're a free man."

Noah still had his gun pointed at Sylar. "I'd appreciate if you would put that down. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already." When Noah didn't comply, Sylar flicked his wrist and the gun was ripped from his hands, crashing into the wall. A shuffling of feet, and the scrape of metal against hardwood floor had Sylar turning. It wasn't Noah holding the gun, but Claire. She had it aimed at his chest.

His notorious smirk returned to his face for the first time in 2 years. He lifted a hand, and it made the gun in Claire's hand point to his head instead of his chest. "Here, Claire. If you want to do it, at least try to do it the right way." He noticed her hands weren't shaking, and her eyes didn't hold as much innocence as they once had. He tried to remember what had happened, what had taken away that innocence?

He found himself remembering all of the things Nathan learned in the last couple of years. A bit of guilt pricked his heart and he lowered his hand. An odd feeling came over him. He wasn't sure if it came from the memories he had as Nathan, or if it came from some place else. He wanted to protect her. Was Matt's poison still running through his veins? Or did it go deeper then that?

"I'll do it, He decided, and the room seemed to have lightened. Claire still had her weapon aimed at him. Peter spoke softly to her, "Claire, put the gun down." He reached for her, but she moved stealthily to the side, holding her ground. "I need to speak to Claire alone first," Sylar said, looking directly at Noah.

"Now hold on," Noah said, and Sylar chuckled bitterly. "You want me to protect your daughter, and yet you don't trust me enough to stand outside the door while I have a conversation with her. How is this going to work Noah?" He asked, and Noah opened his mouth to retort.

"Fine," She said, acid seemed to drip from her voice. Her usual soft, green orbs seemed to be surrounded by a layer of electric green. "We'll talk." Her voice was laced with hatred, and she lowered her weapon, but not handing it back to her father. "Claire." Noah warned, but she didn't even spare him a glance. "If he wants to talk, we'll talk."

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Angela, Matt, Noah, and Peter waited outside the door, trying to listen inside to what was going on. They heard nothing, not even their footsteps. "If Sylar wanted to hurt her, he wouldn't have us wait outside the door. He'd make us witness it." Angela explained, and Peter nodded in agreement. That didn't help Noah settle though.

Sylar noticed she remained as far away from him as she possibly could. When he advanced towards her, she turned, suddenly becoming fascinated by a photograph, or some other treasure in the room. At the moment, she was fixated on a photograph of Nathan, Peter, and Angela. She had been backed up against the window. Her hand still clutched tightly around the handle of the gun that she refused to give up. "Do you even know how to fire that?" He teased, taking a step towards her.

"You wanna find out?" She hissed at him, training her eyes on him now. He took another step, and Claire felt like she was being cornered. Just like in the dream. Her heart pounded fiercely in her ears, but she couldn't move. He was the predator, and she was his prey, entranced by his hungry eyes. Sylar closed the distance between them, reaching for her hand. He slid the gun from her hand, setting it on the table the photo was resting on.

"I don't get a welcome home hug? You've got nothing to say to me after all these years?"

"Go to hell."

She spat, drawing her face away from his. She didn't like the lack of distance between them. She wanted to get as far away from his as possible.

"I guess I deserve that." Sylar shrugged, brushing it off. "Really, I thought after all these years you'd have matured a little. You're still daddy's little girl though."

A sharp slap sounded, but Sylar didn't even move. The impact of her hand only left a dull red mark on his cheek. A lazy grin captured his lips, and he leaned against the table with one hand, leaning towards her as he lifted a hand to brush a few lone strands of hair that escaped from behind her ear. He tucked them back, and Claire inhaled sharply.

"It's okay, I can handle a little hostility. In fact, it'll make this more fun. I hope the fight in you hasn't died along with your innocence." He grinned, but he didn't expect her next move.

She plucked the photo frame up, and drove it's corner into his hand, then placed her hands on his shoulders, bringing him down as she rammed her knee in his crouch. "Then you're about to die of excitement." She whispered, shoving him back and running towards the door. She had had enough. Claire would find another way to stop Samson.

Sylar winced on impact, and then he turned, lifting a finger. A line of blue electricity shot form his finger, it hit her back and snaked it's way up her spine. She felt the tingle of it, but other then that, her tolerance for pain was so high she barely felt it. However, it still affected her. Her back straightened, and then she collapsed to the floor. She waited until the effect wore off, and she turned over on her back.

He was looking down at her, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Oh, kittens grown claws." He made a come hither motion, and she was yanked to her feet, standing dangerously close to him. "I wonder what other surprises you have in store for me." Claire's eyes were hot, and her hands shook as anger flooded her senses. She heard the challenge in his voice, and her pride flared, convinced she could take him.

She wasn't prepared as one of his arms slithered around her slim waist. He drew her closer to him until her lower body was pressed against his. Struggling, she pressed her arms against his chest to push him away. His arm locked, and he wouldn't budge. She lifted her hands to his face, then bit her nails into his skin, dragging them down. 8 thin lines of blood streaked down his face, and he growled, the hand on her back lighting up as he sent a wave of electricity through her again.

The open wounds began to sew themselves together, and he bent his face down next to hers. An invisible force had Claire's arms in the air, as if her wrists were pinned to an invisible wall. "I have a feeling this is the beginning of a new friendship." His grin returned, and he leaned to whisper in her ear. His breath gave her goose bumps, and she shivered involuntarily. "Can you feel it?"