The Once and Future Hero

Author: devilishlysas

Fandom: Heroes

Pairing: Mild Sylar/Claire

Warnings: Graphic violence, (bit of a squick factor); spoilers for season 3; story was written based on promo's for 1961 and I am Sylar (specifically Angela's sister, graves, coyote sands, Sylar and Danko with a shotgun in Nathan's office).

Rating: NC-17 (just to be on the safe side)

Summary: Time can make monsters of us all... even Cheerleaders.

The knife flew from her hand with precision, embedding itself in the back of the blonde's head with a dull thud. Darting forward she caught her before she hit the ground and made further noise; now wasn't the time to alert people. The body was heavier than she'd imagined, with no small amount of effort she managed to drag her into what she assumed was once a pantry; she just wasn't used to lugging bodies around, normally she just let them lay where they fell.

Ducking down she divested the blonde of her clothes, thankfully there had been a minimal amount of blood so the clothes would be fine, which was perfect, because she highly doubted there were spares about. Perfect fit... she smirked at that and tilted the blonde's head to the side, making sure the knife was still in place it wouldn't do to have it fall out and have her come running out naked screaming about imposters.

Claire spared one moment for her younger self before taking minor pity on her and covering her in the abandoned duffle coat she grabbed from the side; it was probably dust and dirt encrusted, not that it would bother her, but still it was better than buck naked. Standing Claire smoothed down the stolen clothes and closed the rickety wooden door firmly, grasping a broken broom she wedged it through the door handle in what she hoped didn't look to suspicious a manner. But then, who the hell was going to suspect anything... Claire would be right there with them. Trying to wipe the smirk off her face to replace it with something appropriately grimmer she made her way back out into the dusty heat of Coyote Sands.

They stood in the midst of their grim discoveries, surrounded by Angela's secrets, of a horror so fresh to all of them, and so long ago to her that she almost struggled to recall what the young girl with a blade in the back of her head would have felt. Alice's body was being added to a fresh grave, her great Aunt, her younger self had had to excuse herself, she'd remembered even after all those years, and it had offered the perfect opportunity to surprise herself. Not slowing her stride, she stalked right up to the sad group as they huddled around the fresh earth, there would be no headstone... not here. Claire paused and stared down at the ground, Alice had had it rough, even she'd concede that, and her own life was no picnic.

"What happens now?" She asked, because she remembered it had been what she should have said; the younger her, had she been here.

"We go back to Washington." Nathan replied, his hands coming to land on her shoulders she suppressed the natural reaction she had spent far too long cultivating... no one touched her, every fibre of her being demanded she rip his hands off her and break every bone in his body, but she swallowed the urge, she had to be normal, had to be the sweet little Claire they expected. So when Peter grasped her hand she swallowed her rage and smiled sadly up at him, just like Claire would have done.

The feel of the air rushing past her skin was exhilarating, not quite up to thrill of a couple of rockets strapped to your feet, but she suspected that was probably the extra bonus of wondering if they'd backfire and blow your feet off sending you crashing back to earth. Peter held her tightly, and she itched to squirm, the most she managed was to grasp hold of his jacket instead of skin. It wasn't that irrational a fear, given all she'd been through, but it was one she really needed to master. Turning her head she took in the unusual sight of Petrelli's flying formation and couldn't help but smirk, burying it in her hair as Nathan flew beside them, Angela clinging to him madly.

A laugh tore from her that she couldn't suppress and she flung her arms out wide unfortunately it meant that Peter lost his grip on her. She'd have been more concerned, but there hardly seemed a point, lifting her head to the sky she spun in the air like she'd done a thousand times before, arching her back and stretching muscles until her legs lined up beneath her.

"Claire!" Both Nathan and Peter barked at her in surprise and mild horror, poor boys, they just didn't get the whole indestructible thing. Spreading her arms wide she let the current take her, spinning madly she plummeted like a stone towards the Earth, gaining speed and momentum, she knew how she must look like some crazy ballerina spinning out of all control. Peter and Nathan were tearing after her, arms reaching for her, she grinned madly, neither of them dared to touch her as she spun with increasing speed for fear of her knocking them out. Flinging her legs out she halted the spin with absolute ease, born of practice, flattening her body out into a slow fall position, arms wide, riding the drift. Peters arm grasped her right one, Nathan her left, bringing her face to face with her grandmother for a second. The way her eyes flashed she suspected that perhaps she had revealed more of herself than she should have; she smirked, before spinning to wrap her legs around Peter's back as he halted their fall and she shouted with exhilaration into the air.

"Claire what the hell is wrong with you?" Nathan snapped, "You could have..." Claire smirked at the slightly ridiculous look on his face when he had to stop himself.

"I can't die." She reminded him with his own smirk. "And that... was the most alive I've felt in a while." Peter remained silent, but she felt him tense, poor boy-scout, seems like he was still worried she'd turn into a killer... he wasn't wrong. The rest of the flight went without incident as they touched down on top of the building at Nathan's offices. With a lot more stealth than she'd ever accredit either of them, they made their way down, they needed files, numbers, everything Nathan could use to turn the tables on Danko, upend the man hunt and get them off the hit list; a tall order.

Stepping into the office she fell behind them, watching as they made their way around the office, grasping papers; completely unprepared. She pressed back against the wall beside the door... she wasn't. The barrel of the gun came through first, she didn't move, as Danko stepped into the room, his black jacket and combat boots inches from her, all she would have to do was reach out, snap his neck, but she didn't. Claire waited for 'him' to step through the door, his hand raised, sending Peter crashing into the far wall, it was almost too easy.

She saw Angela in her peripheral vision, saw her gasp as the knife was in her hand, at the fluid way she moved in one sweep driving the blade up through his throat to hit that sweet spot buried deep inside his head, a match to her own. He went down to his knees, his face didn't even register surprise it had been too quick, Danko whirled on her, the gun went off, but the fool wasn't expecting her, his shot was released into her chest, not her head.

Claire smirked as she lashed out a hand, he blocked... the bastard was trained well, surprise had worked in her favour, but as he attempted to deliver a blow to her head she was forced to twist like a pretzel. Grasping the barrel of the shotgun she turned it so that it carved a nice whole in Nathan's panelled walls instead of her. But she was better, faster, unhindered by things like pain and muscle fatigue, by the passage of time; her elbow whipped up slamming into his nose but he didn't lose his hold on the gun, it did distract him enough that he didn't see the leg that crashed into his knee with a sickening crunch.

As he went down she delivered a blow to the arm that held the gun snapping the elbow clean and forcing bone to splinter out through flesh, the sound that tore from him was more screech than anything; it was a sweet sound. He collapsed to the floor and she cocked the shotgun at his head, knowing that for once the innocence of her face wasn't acting as a mask; her monster was showing if his wide eyes were anything to go by.

"Surprise!" She spat at him, jamming the shotgun against his forehead and grinning wildly when he flinched.

"Claire!" Peter asked weakly, she risked a glance at him as he picked himself up from the floor where Sylar had thrown him.

"That's not Claire." Angela managed, her voice was cold enough to cut.

"I used to be." Claire supplied raising an eyebrow at her grandmother and surprised to see her recoil. "Long time ago." She added helpfully, "Back when the world made sense. Before it all went to hell, before all this. But that's a tale for another time, you see, I can't let you live Danko." She redirected her gaze at the soldier at her feet. "You understand," she quirked her lips at him; "It's only sporting." He froze his mouth hanging open at the reference, only he would understand, after all the others had no idea about the truth.

"Claire no!" Nathan called out darting forwards, by the time he reached her she was splashed in blood and brain matter and Danko was most definitely dead. Nathan skidded to a halt, a small amount of blood had splashed across his shirt and he looked down at it, then Danko with horror. "What have you done?" he looked up at her with wild eyes, apparently he hadn't quite understood the nuances of the conversation, that or denial was his real super ability.

"Oh don't be so naive daddy." She sneered and he stumbled back as if she'd physically slapped him. "How did you think all this was going to end when you started it? Did you think that it would be the first bloodless war in history?" she laughed coldly at him, as he grasped onto his desk for support.

"What did you do with Claire?" Peter snarled, clenching his fists, once she might have been concerned, but Peter really wasn't that much of a threat anymore.

"I am Claire." She bit off coolly at him, "Just a little... older" she couldn't help but smirk at the idea of the centuries that one word spanned.

"You're a killer." Peter managed, he sounded almost broken.

"Not the first time you've seen me this way Peter, you should be used to it by now."

"I thought I'd stopped it." He breathed, looking at her blood spattered clothes and the way she was holding the gun as he took a hesitant step towards her.

"Can't stop fate Peter. I'm going to live forever... did you really think I'd spend eternity as the innocent little cheerleader from Texas?" he grasped his brothers shoulder for support as she glanced back at Sylar's dead body. "We need to move him, Danko we can probably just leave here, lord knows he's got enough enemies, but Sylar is supposed to be dead... I'd like to keep it that way." Her sharp gaze fixed on Angela, the woman was always shrewd.

"I take it you have a plan then?" Angela folded her arms and took a careful step towards her.

Claire took a step forwards meeting her grandmother square on, she placed the shotgun into her hands, "Well I am a Petrelli." The older woman gave her a grim nod and Claire didn't waste any more time as she turned back to the body.

"Where is she?" At least she wasn't stupid enough to point the gun at her, but the genuine concern in her voice was touching.

"Safe enough... dead." Peter swore and attempted to fly at her, but Angela caught his arm, before shoving her body in front of him to slow him.

"Don't be a fool." She snarled up at her son. Before turning back to face her.

"Claire can't die Pete. She means Claire's incapacitated." Nathan clarified, looking like he wanted to smack her.

"And she'll stay that way, until I'm done fixing your goddamn mess." She toed Sylar's dead body, cocking her head to examine the wound, before grasping another knife from her concealed arsenal and driving it into the back of his head; better safe than sorry. "Help me, I can't lift him."

A gun cocked and she felt the pressure against her temple with mild irritation that someone had managed to sneak up on her quite so spectacularly.

"Where is she!" a voice she'd known well snarled and the barrel pressed further into her temple, which was a mistake. There was no way in hell he was actually going to shoot her; he was after all her father. Claire swung her hand up with speed born of survival, turning her head in a motion that cost him stability, she twisted, sweeping up to her feet, the gun that had been against her head was now in her hand and aimed squarely at Noah Bennet as he cradled his near broken wrist.

"You shouldn't point guns at people you don't intend to shoot." She chastised him lightly, "Now help me move him." She snarled delivering a sharp kick to Sylar's immovable chest, "Or I'm going to get really pissed." Things went more smoothly after that, Peter and Nathan together lifted Sylar onto Nathan's back.

"Where are we taking him?" Nathan grunted with the strain of the fully grown dead weight on his back.

"One of Primatech's in between places, they have cells, should be closed down by now, but I'd assume it's just a matter of power generators and access codes to get it back online. There's one in New York." Claire smirked at Angela's stunned look. "I'm sure Angela and Noah can give you the address." With that she spun away from them, this was almost like fun; as she began rifling through the files; pulling out the ones they'd need whilst Nathan, Peter and Angela flew away with Sylar's body.

By the time Nathan and Peter returned looking a little worse for wear she was sitting in his big chair avoiding Noah's sharp pained looks, at least he seemed to think stony silence was the way to deal with this, she wasn't sure she could have taken all the questions without getting mad.

Peter flew far more stiffly with her now, as though he wanted to do nothing more than drop her somewhere and go in search of his innocent precious little Claire. But of course he didn't, and they landed at the facility close to Palisades. The underground facility was already up and running, well the lights were on, by the time she got there, she stalked through the cold concrete corridor ahead of her father figures and Peter, absolutely assured in where she was going. Turning a sharp corner she took a moment to absorb the image of Sylar, trussed up inside a cell again as she stalked past Angela.

"We have drugs that will keep him sedated, his powers suppressed... I assume that's your plan since you wanted the holding cell?" Angela told her tightly, her arms once again folded as she observed her shrewdly.

"No." She replied, rolling up her sleeve and revealing the metal device strapped there. Pushing buttons she attempted to ignore their curiosity as she drew closer to his body, raising her arm to his neck a small needle extended and nicked the skin.

"What was that?" Noah asked her quietly.

"Just insurance." Claire shrugged, dropping the sleeve again, and concealing the nature of the device from their curious eyes. Without preamble she yanked up his head and tugged out the knife from his throat followed by the one at the back. In seconds his loud gasp filled the air as he struggled to sit up beyond the restraints across him, his eyes darting around the small cell wildly. A smirk flickered onto his lips as he took them all in, she watched in fascination as he twitched his fingers, his dark eyebrows exaggerating the frown.

"What have you done to me?" he snarled, focusing his questions on Angela and Noah, who of course seemed like the prime suspects. "I've fought your pathetic drugs before, I'll do it again!" he snarled struggling again to free himself.

"I don't think so Gabriel." Claire replied sweetly running the blade she still held in her hand across his chest as she walked around him to the other side so she could face them all, cutting a neat line as she went in his chest that caused him to hiss sharply. "Oops." She muttered, "Sorry," she cocked her head examining the wound that refused to close. "Looks like you lost something again." She added, his eyes widened as he stared up at her.

"You're not Claire." He snarled.

Claire smirked. "Well that is and it isn't true." She added, dropping the blade to his arm and cutting a long line from the hollow of his elbow to the shoulder; it gushed blood and he roared in pain. "Thrashing won't do you any good Sylar; in fact my guess is it will just tear the skin more... we wouldn't want you to bleed to death now would we?" She raised her hand to his hair and stroked a line across his forehead with her index finger that caused him to flinch.

"What is this!" he snarled, "What have you done to me?"

Claire sighed and drew the knife across his still clothed chest, popping the buttons before she wrenched it open to reveal the skin fully.

"What have you done to him?" Peter asked, looking mildly sick, Claire glanced at him as he winced at the knife, there was a flash in his eyes, this was familiar to him somehow; she filed that information away for later.

"A little cocktail of retroviral, and biochemical inhibitors, all programmed to strip away genetic abnormality, to smooth out aberrations in the genome, all delivered by tiny little machines running through his system and causing havoc."

"No!" Sylar snarled.

"Yes." She replied simply. "But at the moment they aren't fulfilling their primary goal, they're waiting for me to give them a signal," she leant forward and traced the tip of the knife all along his chest, leaving a dark deep gash that he grit his teeth to prevent from screaming at. "The moment I do, they'll gut your DNA Sylar, you'll be poor, sad little Gabriel the watchmaker again, nothing special... ordinary."

Claire raised the knife beneath his throat and nicked his stubbled chin. "At the moment they are just blocking your abilities, it can be reversed." She lowered her mouth to his ear, surprised to find him trembling, but whether it was with rage or fear, oddly she couldn't tell, and she'd spent a long time learning to read people.

"Who are you?" he bit off, the rumble in his voice familiar to her in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant after all this time.

"I'm the Claire you always wanted me to be." She slapped his cheek lightly, drawing his face to hers, so their eyes could lock, "Aren't you so proud?" He smirked and she jabbed the knife into his palm, causing him to scream loudly, bucking and further splitting the seeping wounds across his chest.

"It's a funny thing pain." Claire continued disinterested in his sudden outbursts as he threatened her nearest and dearest; and pointedly ignoring the people that had once been said nearest and dearest. "Not that I can remember it at all... but sometimes, when I'm not dying of a mortal wound, I can almost remember it, the way a body is supposed to hurt. To feel."

She levelled the knife over his face, "Like now, if I were to cut out your eyes..." she lowered the knife until it was a bare fraction from scraping the surface, and Sylar went perfectly still. "I'd imagine you'd scream; that neurones inside your body would blaze as the non vital, but still, important organ was removed. Sending agonised waves through every fibre of your being until you can do nothing but freeze in the abject horror of it. Endure and hope that consciousness fails you... only it won't."

Claire didn't move, and Sylar didn't dare breath. "I had my eyes removed once." She told him conversationally, ignoring the gasp from one of her parental figures. "They were torn from my face, straight out of the sockets by fingers," she inched lower and a bead of sweat formed and dripped down Sylar's forehead. "One at a time, and do you know what I saw as I watched with my one remaining eye... I saw the damn thing sucking on my eyeball like it was candy. Swirling it around its mouth, until it burst inside teeth filed sharp enough to tear at flesh." Sylar made a choked sound that was matched by one from across the room.

"And do you know what I felt?" Sylar didn't answer.

"Exactly." She replied smirking, "Nothing. Not even as it tore the other one out, and I regrew a fresh pair, for it to start all over again." Her loose hand curled around his hair, "You won't be so lucky!" The knife sunk into the soft flesh with a wet sound and Sylar screamed in agony as she dragged the blade back, popping the whole thing out whole to catch in her hand before it hit the floor.

There was a gagging noise from the doorway and Claire raised her eyes in time to see Nathan hastily turn away, Peter's hand going around his shoulders; but Angela and her father were watching her in morbid fascination; matching expressions of disgust flickering across their features.

"Bitch!" Sylar roared, his hands tearing at his restraints as she thrashed his head about, trying to stem the pain in the eye socket.

"Shhh." She breathed against his ear, moving back swiftly as he attempted to head butt her. "You do have another eye you know, be quiet or I'll take that one too." He stilled slowly, his one remaining dark eye fixed on her in loathing and agony. "Oh please, don't try pulling that on me Sylar, you deserve a thousand times worse than this. Deserve to be carved up into pieces and remain conscious throughout. Funnily enough... that happened to me too." She smiled baring her teeth at him and he flinched.

"Where do you come from, what kind of world could do that?" Angela gasped, clearly not able to hold her tongue any longer.

"A place further off than even your dreams can take you grandma." Claire glanced up at the older woman and met her eyes. "The end of the world. Only it wasn't quick, oh the bombs were. Two whole minutes and the whole world was one raw blistering wound, irradiated and blackened. But what came after that, it wasn't quick, the slow death of the Earth, and its survivors. Better to have died in the blasts than to see what we became out there in the Wastes." She added darkly before returning her attention to Sylar.

"I'm not going to kill you Sylar, at least not right away. You see I think that deep down you just want to be special, to make a difference. You don't much care if it's as the hero or the villain, so long as you get to be the one bending the world to your will. So I'm going to make you a deal."

"Claire don't; he'll kill you." her father snapped with certainty.

"He'll try." Claire replied smoothly. "But it wouldn't end well for him, you see I'm going to leave these things in your system, and believe me, nothing can get rid of them, nothing that you know of anyway, it would take technology way beyond the 21st Century to do it, and expertise that only I have. I've even programmed them with a handy little feature; linked them directly to my bio read outs. If I sustain any trauma it deems to be a threat to my health, and that is my health, so a pretty unpleasant injury for most people." She clarified enjoying the way his mouth was twisting unpleasantly as he restrained himself from some biting comment. "Then it will activate them fully, and you will cease to be Sylar, and become plain old Gabriel Grey again, only this time it will be permanent, no escape, no reboot, no Texan Cheerleaders blood to undo it."

"What do you want?" he snarled and she brushed her hand across his jaw in a parody of a caress.

"You're going to use those talents of yours to help prevent that hell I came from ever existing. You're going to work for me Sylar."

He seemed to take only a fraction of the time she expected to consider it, she could practically see the gears turning, looking for a way out, an option.

"Do it." He snapped at her, the trembling in his body growing worse from the blood loss and shock.

Nathan and Peter reappeared, both oddly silent as she snapped his restraints and discreetly pressed a button on the device beneath her sleeve. It was a sight she was more than familiar with as she watched skin re-knit itself, the eye reforming in his skull, until he was whole again. He leapt from the table and spun on her, levelling a stare on her that was pure rage, his fingers twitched in the hand at his side, but he didn't test her word.

"Good boy." She smiled sharply at him, not losing eye contact. "First things first, I'd imagine you're going to enjoy this one." Her eyes flickered to the family that stood stock still, waiting and watching her.

"Kill them." His head snapped to her in mild disbelief, but he was already raising his hand to wrench Noah's weapon from his hand.

"Claire!" Angela cried in surprise as Sylar shoved them all back into the concrete wall with enough force to steal their breath. Claire came to stand beside him, as he stared down at her, bloodstained and half wild his hand extended to her family, holding them in place.

"I told you I came to fix your mistakes. That means all of your mistakes, and the easiest way to do that, is to make sure you never make them at all."

"Claire." Her father tried, she could see the way his eyes shone behind horn rimmed glasses that she had helped pick out centuries ago. But her heart was a cold dead thing, and she'd long since lost the ability to feel practically anything. As electricity burst from the fingers of the monster beside her she watched, not blinking as they screamed and writhed, caught in his power.

"Take their shapes before there's nothing left." She instructed Sylar, he gave her a cursory glance before stalking forwards; his finger raised, intending to take more than just their shapes. Once she might have cared, but as she watched the blood splash across the wall behind where he held a weakly struggling Peter she was remorseless. They had made her this way, not Sylar, it was worth it to stop it all; sometimes the greater good meant that a monster had to win, even if that monster turned out to be her.