A girl with dark hair.

A young face.

Wounded eyes.

Flaying a man alive.

The picture had been a gift from a horrid man, someone claiming to be offering him the opportunity to become a vengeance demon.

Sylar had rolled his eyes. He had mocked.

But he had kept the picture.

What was her power, he wondered. If telekinesis, surely she could have done something other than .. this?

He looked for her a very long time.

But when he found her, she was not the same. Not in looks. And certainly not in fury.

But she still held power, Sylar could tell.

So when he went to attack her, he caught her by surprise. He played with her brain until she turned again into that dark-haired witch. He wanted to meet the woman who had drawn him here, not that perky little thing with the funny comments and the sweet eyes.

It worked. He saw the change come over her, pulsing through her body as she gasped.

And then she healed up her own skull and threw him across the room magically.

He hadn't seen a power in there. So he knew that this was more that just a mutated gene.

And he realized. He could heal. He wouldn't die. She could do to Sylar what she had done to the man in the picture, and she could do it a thousand times. She could find something even worse. And Sylar would heal and she would be able to do it again. If she found out about his regeneration power, she might very well take vengeance on him forever.

For the first time in a very long time, Sylar felt the hot sear of terror.

Sylar swallowed as the girl walked toward him. "What's the matter, big bad Gabriel?" she said, "Not so brave now that I've got you by the powers?"

"Willow," Sylar said, thinking he could at least manipulate his way into the upper hand, "I knew I could help you come out of your shell. You're so much more interesting this way. I understand what it's like for you, to have everyone think you're mousy and harmless, not knowing that you have more power than they could ever dream of. I know what it means to use your power, to lose yourself in your power, to hunt someone, to kill them, to not regret it, to take pleasure in it -- who besides me can understand that Willow? Don't you see - you and I -- we're the same!"

Willow eyed him for a moment. Then she said, "Bored now." With a brush of her fingers she sent a hard volt of burning and rupturing through Sylar's torso. He yelled out in pain but then healed right off. Willow saw this and let a cruel smile spread across her face. "Changed my mind, Gabriel. This isn't boring. This might be the most fun I've ever had."


Written for comment_fic on Livejournal, a multi-fandom prompt community called "Comment_fic: Bite Sized bits of Fic," where you can request or write fic from any fandom.

Prompt was dark!Willow/Sylar