Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.

Chapter One:

Claire tried to watch the scenery as it passed by her window, but the entire state of Nebraska seemed to be one boring never ending cornfield. Tension between her two disturbingly gorgeous uncles was so intense the car nearly vibrated from it. Peter had been scowling all morning, while Sylar kept fighting back his trademark smirk.

Neither said a word to each other, or to her. Claire knew the whole thing was entirely her fault. Well, not exactly. She couldn't be held responsible for her dreams. It's not like she would have ever called out his name on purpose. Just thinking about it made her blush furiously. Could anything be more humiliating?

That morning she'd opened her eyes, realizing in horror that she was awake and had just called out Sylar's name. Claire looked to her left where her uncles were sharing the motel room's other double bed, praying that they were asleep. They weren't. Both of her uncles were looking right at her. She saw their shocked expressions shift into anger on Peter and surprised delight on Sylar. Peter turned his angry glare toward Sylar who held his hands up and shrugged in a "Hey, it's not my fault" gesture. Humiliated, Claire jumped out of bed and hurried towards the bathroom.

"I'm going to, um, take a shower." She mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with either of them again.

Just as she closed the door, Claire heard Sylar ask, amusement thick in his voice, "You want company?" This was followed by "You son of a bitch!" from Peter, then sounds of scuffling. Sylar's taunting voice, "Hey, she's your mom too!" earned a growl from Peter and the sound of a punch being thrown. Claire turned on the shower to drown out the noise.

By the time she left the bathroom, wrapped in a white towel, wishing she'd brought fresh clothes into the bathroom to change into, her uncles were both dressed and silent. Sylar was sitting up against the headrest of their bed, his legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed in front of him. Peter was standing by the small table near the door, pouring over a map. When she emerged, they both looked up at her. Their looks were . . . heated, definitely not uncle-like looks. They made her feel naked and sexy. While Claire was somewhat used to this from Sylar, seeing it on Peter was unexpected . . . and exciting.

Peter seemed to catch himself, jerking his head away so quickly it just drew more attention to him. Claire went to scavenge for some clean clothes in her duffle bag, determined to ignore both of them and pretend this morning never happened. Sylar's low, gravely, cursedly sexy voice asking her, "Did you enjoy your shower, Claire?" was the last thing she needed. Claire glared daggers at him, but it only seemed to amuse him as his smirk grew into a full smile. She made a hasty retreat into the bathroom to change. Now they were stuck in this car together.

Claire leaned back against the door, legs stretched out across the backseat, cursing her grandmother for insisting they take this little road trip to "get to know one another" and to "welcome Sylar into the family". Technically, they were on a mission for The Company, but driving to Alaska to pick up a dangerous special instead of simply taking a plane, or having Peter fly her there, was really all about doing some family bonding. Claire was pretty sure having a sex dream about her uncle was not the sort of bonding Angela had in mind. But then again, she wouldn't put anything past that woman.

o o o o

Peter was also mentally cursing his mother's insistence on this family bonding trip. He was still having trouble thinking of Sylar as his brother, and this trip certainly wasn't endearing Sylar to him. Especially since this morning's incident with Claire. Peter's hands tightened on the steering wheel. Just thinking about it made him want to strangle Sylar. And it was not because he was jealous. That was not why it bothered him to hear Claire moan Sylar's name. Jealousy had absolutely nothing to do with it.

He'd been telling himself that all morning, but Peter couldn't dispel the sickening feeling that Sylar was right. That Peter wanted to be the man Claire fantasizes about. Damn, he's just as sick as Sylar. She's his niece. His brother's daughter. If only he could just see her in that way, in a healthy, appropriate way. He tried, but Claire certainly wasn't making it easy.

Peter had woken up to the sound of a woman's breathy moans, his body painfully hard. Shaking off the fog of sleep, Peter looked over at Claire. She was still asleep on the motel room's other double bed, having what sounded like a very sexy dream. He turned to his left to see if Sylar was awake. Sylar met his look with a yawn and raised eyebrows. Propping himself on his elbow, Sylar looked past Peter towards Claire. His eyes widened in shock once he realized what was going on.

Unable to resist, Peter turned back towards Claire, whose breathy moans had increased in tempo. When her hand began to trail over her breast, skimming the hard nipple, clearly visible through her thin pink cotton tank top, Sylar let out a breath he'd apparently been holding. Peter couldn't take his eyes away from Claire's hand as it slowly made its way down her stomach and under the sheet that was only pulled up slightly past her hip.

Shamefully, Peter heard himself make a chocked grunt at the moment her hand reached her center. Claire let out a louder moan as she touched herself. Peter's heart raced, his hand tempted to stroke his own rock hard cock. Then she called out a name, Sylar's name. Jealously flashed through him like a wildfire.

Claire's eyes popped open just as Sylar's name died on her lips. Her green eyes widened as awareness of her surroundings hit. They darted over toward Peter & Sylar, no doubt hoping they were still asleep. She blushed crimson when she met their shocked expressions.

With a speed born of what looked like intense embarrassment, Claire almost ran to the bathroom, mumbling "I'm going to take a shower." Peter felt no guilt whatsoever for punching his new brother when Sylar called out to Claire, "You want company?"

Peter's eyes seemed drawn to his rear view mirror like a magnet to its mate. He'd ashamedly tilted it so he could glimpse Claire in the backseat. Of course she had to wear exceedingly short khaki cut-offs. With the backseat all to herself, Claire stretched her sun-kissed legs across the seat, crossed at the ankles, her white Keds keeping time with the music on the radio. He wanted to kiss those gorgeous legs from ankle up to her soft inner thigh. Then he'd . . . fuck. She's your niece, you perv.

Peter had to stop thinking of Claire like that. He'd done it before. After saving her from Sylar at her Homecoming, she'd starred in almost all of his fantasies for months. Then the bombshell hit . . . he found out they were related. Claire went from being too young for now, but hopefully maybe one day, to permanently off-limits.

He remembered the moment he woke up in his parent's house, lying on a chaise in the living room. He opened his eyes and there she was, the girl from his dreams, with her golden hair and intense green eyes, hovering over him like an angel. Peter was seconds away from reaching up to cup the back of her head and pulling her lips to his own. Thankfully, he didn't. His mother and brother would have walked in on a sight he'd never be able to live down. Still, there was a part of him that wished he had kissed her then, before he learned that he could never have her. At least he would have had that one chance to taste her lips without it being a conscious sin.

After that day, Peter had to force his thoughts away from Claire whenever he jerked off. He still had dreams about her, but as the months went by without seeing her, the dreams grew more infrequent. Eventually, Peter was able to get over his obsession with the sexy little cheerleader. At least until this morning, when Claire's moaning touch-fest sent shockwaves straight to his cock. Now his pervy crush was back with a vengeance. And to top it off, it wasn't even reciprocated. Claire had called out Sylar's name, not his. Why did girls always get wet for that whole "bad boy" thing?

Peter was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Claire riffle though her purse. In the rear view mirror, he watched Claire open a little jar of lip balm. His eyes flickered back and forth between the mirror and the road. He was transfixed by her finger dipping into the pink balm, then traveling to her luscious lips. Her fingertip swiped along her full bottom lip, leaving a glistening trail of shine. God, how he longed to kiss those lips, to taste her, devour her. Damn it, was she doing this on purpose to torture him? Peter had to suppress a groan at the thought of those sweet pink lips wrapped around his cock. Speaking of cock, his was painfully hard now. He shifted a bit in his seat, forcing his eyes to stay on the road.

Sick. This is sick. He was a sick, pervy uncle fantasizing about his niece. What made it worse was the suspicion that Sylar was probably having just as inappropriate thoughts, but without the moral turmoil Peter suffered. He told himself repeatedly that Sylar wouldn't sink so low as to actually attempt to seduce Claire. But somehow after killing dozens of innocent people, crossing a line like incest with a grown-up niece you just learned you had didn't seem like such a big deal. He started to wonder what he'd do if Sylar did try such a thing. Would Claire respond to Sylar's advances? The thought made Peter feel murderous. He couldn't let that happen. Peter vowed to do whatever it took to keep Sylar from Claire. Whatever it takes, he would protect her.

The question of who Claire should be with romantically bothered Peter. Claire was potentially immortal. She could live for hundreds of years. And since Sylar took her power, he could live just as long. Peter wasn't as sure about his own immortality. But if he could use Claire's power, it would make sense that he could be equally immortal. Did Claire realize this? If she only considered Sylar as a potential lover because of his ability to be there for her for eternity, would she consider him too? Oh god, what was he thinking? She's your niece. He clenched his jaw, angry at the universe for making her the one thing he can't have, no matter how badly he wanted her.