AN: Gabriel and Peter don't seem to want to leave me alone... so I wrote this. I have another one in the works, it takes place after this one and I'm not sure if I'm gonna make it a separate story or added on to this one.

Please read and review to let me know that you like this. It bums me out when I see all the hits and no reviews. Makes me wonder if I suck or what.

Thanks to Pamela for helping beta.


The tea was hot, sharp and black. That was how he took it now. Not sugared and creamed out as before. The clocks ticked away in the background. Soothing. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The sound was so familiar, but now calmed instead of taunted. Wood creaked as the place settled into the cooler night. The soft hum as the heating unit kicked in to ward off that cool. The hiss no longer invoked a sense of yearning.

He was alone; he had asked to be. It was time to move on and he was struggling to come to terms of what he had done. All he had to do was just close his eyes and replay it all in his mind. So clear, so vivid and stark.

Years spent in this very room, hating it. Hating himself and his father. Hating who and what he had become; which, in his eyes, was nothing. He never wanted to be a nothing. A man that was quickly overlooked and forgotten.

Girls never looked his way, never paid him any mind. The harmless nerd that fiddled with watches. Oh, how boring he had been. Brown slacks and sweater vests with glasses and tea at his elbow. He acted more like an elder Englishman than a man in his prime. But, oh, how he longed for more. Adventure? Maybe, but something else. He longed to matter. He wanted to make a difference, to be special. He felt that he had been born to do more than fix clocks.

It was here, in this very space, that the seeds of Sylar had been sewn. When Chandra Suresh showed up, everything had changed. He knew what he wanted, what he was born for. Suresh rejected him, felt that the tests were inconclusive. He'd been crushed but determined. That was when he contacted Brian Davis who had telekinesis. Looking at him, Gabriel realized he could feel the abilities. Where they were, how to acquire them. It was then that the first drop of blood was spilled, the first life taken.

Beside himself, Gabriel tried to end it there, until Elle came and saved him. She had a large hand in him becoming Sylar and he killed her for it later.

She pretended to care for him, told him that he was special. Made him kill again when all he wanted was her. It was then that the normal, boring Gabriel Gray turned into a half-crazed, power-hungry addict. Sylar had been born. He had only wanted to be special. Wanted to be something other than the watchmaker that he was. He wanted to matter, to make a difference. He wanted to be loved.

The sharp clarity in which he took his first life was shocking. The one perfect moment when it all made sense. When he knew how to fix the broken. Fix himself. The rhythm had been off, but Gabriel, the watchmaker, the expert in time, knew what to do.

The fist kill had been messy. He had no way to make a clean cut, no tools or abilities. Just a blunt force trauma and a lot of blood.

There were a few moments that stood out more than others. People, their abilities and what he did to acquire them. Who he hurt, how they screamed and begged.

He remembered the first time he saw Peter. The instant attraction. His mind whirled as he watched and wondered. It took a while to figure out what Peter's ability really was. He had power, Sylar had been sure, but which one? He changed, rotated. Collected. For a moment, he felt a kinship with him. They both held multiple powers. Was it possible that Peter would understand him? Have the same thirst, the same hunger?

Then Peter tried to kill him. He tried not to take it too personally, but what's a man to do?

So he brooded and killed. Screwed women and then killed them too. More and more power was collected and then.. he was powerless once again.

Ebb and flow. It all changed. Gained and lost. Newly acquired and reacquired. The one thing that stayed constant was Peter. He was always there. Friend. Enemy. Brother? Just around the corner, dogging Sylar's steps. Hell bent on stopping him. Killing him but ultimately saving him.

How did you thank someone for that? Sure, Peter's intentions had been purely selfish, but save him he did just the same. After everything he had put him through, Peter had been there when no one else would have cared. Good bye to bad rubbish, but not Peter. No, he was dead set on saving everyone. A true Hero.

It had been Peter's indomitable will and courage that saved them both. That broke down the wall, once and for all.

Now, Gabriel was back in control and Sylar just nagged and bitched about wanting time out to play. He wanted his freedom, but the thing was, with Sylar in change, there was no way to be free. Sylar could kill, rip and render. But Gabriel would be locked up inside along with any chance of salvation he may have. On the run, always looking over his shoulder to see what was coming. Not that it mattered overly much, as he couldn't be killed but someone could get a lucky shot in and hit him in that one spot that would shut him down. He really didn't want to take the chance any longer. Not now with Peter in his life for good.

He wanted to be a normal man again, maybe for the first time. He wanted to worry about bills and taxes, dinner and hurt feelings. He wanted to be able to sit around, relax and drink tea by the gallons.

Why had he ever wanted more? What was so wrong with a quiet life? A house and kids maybe? Friends, people that actually liked you?

So many bridges burned, so many sins to atone for. Where could he even start?

The door bell jingled and Gabriel felt his body tense and loosen at the same time. Peter was there. Everything would be alright now. His time alone was done. The past was just that and it was time to look toward building a future.

They didn't speak as Peter came and stood at Gabriel's shoulder. They looked down at the new red carpet that covered up the blood stain on the wooden floor. This was where it all had started. Peter ran his hand down the back of Gabriel's arm and the grasped his hand before pressing his lips to the ball of his shoulder and just rested there. Strong and quiet. Gabriel's rock.

The silence drew out, nothing but the sounds of night and clocks keeping time in the background. Counting away moments, minutes. With each tick, Sylar's hold slipped just a bit more. Every second that passed marked one more moment of Gabriel. His will, his desire to change.

They stood there for 44 minutes and 13 seconds, until Gabriel sighed, turned toward Peter and kissed his forehead.

The tea had gone cold and bitter. A small gleam of oil slicked the top. Gabriel looked at it and wrinkled his nose. He picked up a neatly hand lettered sign and walked to the door. He waited for Peter to exit first and slid it in the window and locked the door.

For Sell by Owner.

It was time to move on. Time to put the past behind and start over. They'd decided to try their hand in Seattle.