There was so much he wanted to say to that. More assumptions, the awful feeling of someone peering in on him when pinning him to the wall like a butterfly to a cork-board wasn't enough. Just some young upstart who a week ago had all but forgotten his name.

But then he felt a stab of pain deeper and sharper than Maryann's blade through his heart, an agony that brought it all back in a rush. He couldn't help it - he screamed. He was going to die. Sylar was killing him. No V to save him this time, and goddamn, wasn't it a shame that Eric hadn't fed from him, or fed him, or whatever it was vampires did to know when someone like Sookie was in trouble, whatever brought them out of their coffins and running out to save someone just by knowing they were -

Sam's eyes shot wide.

Lucifer! Lucifer - help.