"Oh God," Dexter softly spoke, aware of the odd appropriateness of his chosen words given his religious discussion with his latest acquisition.
Across the church, Debra stood in full view of his kill. She silently stared as he gazed back.
She caught him. She discovered who he really was. All of Harry's and his own efforts to keep her from the dark secrets that surrounded her brother were invalidated. His sister knew.
This made her a threat.
What was she thinking? Was she going to attack him? No, he was her brother. Unless she perceived an imminent threat, she'd more likely run away and call for back-up. He needed to keep her here and hope she'd drop her guard long enough for him to subdue her.
"Deb…" he began, only for her to double over and vomit.
He cringed at the mess, its gross appearance and acrid odor polluting the simplistic beauty of his kill room. Great, DNA evidence linking her here. Fortunately, this gave him opportunity to make his move.
Releasing the knife, he stepped toward her with his arms outstretched to hug her. "Debra, it's okay. Calm down."
She snapped back up. "Stay the fuck away from me! And don't you fucking tell me to fucking calm down. Fuck!"
"Fair," he allowed, halting his approach. He dropped his arms. "I know this looks bad…"
"You think?" she cried. "Oh, shit fucking hell, Dex, what the fuck?" She stepped further away from him, but moving away from the door. Good.
"It's Travis Marshall," he said, indicating his freshly claimed prey with a tilt of his head. "He tried to kill Harrison."
She shook her head. "And you, what, thought going Hannibal Lector on his ass was a better idea than calling the motherfucking cops?"
He couldn't think of an answer that wouldn't make her see him as a clear and present danger. "Why don't you sit down, Debra, and I'll…"
"No, you sit down! Why don't you fucking sit down?" She took a step toward him aggressively. "Sit down and tell me just what the fuck…"
"I'm the Bay Harbor Butcher," he blurted out and then waited apprehensively for her response.
She stared at him. "The Bay…" She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered. "Jesus fucking Christ, I can't fucking deal with this!"
Seizing upon the opportunity, he crossed the distance between them and grabbed her in a stranglehold, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. She gasped and clawed at his arm. When he didn't relent, she kicked him hard in the shin. He winced but kept a strong hold on her neck, and he felt the fight drain out of her as she collapsed into unconsciousness. Relaxing his hold, he let her body slump into his arms.
Good… That immediate problem taken care of, his eyes turned from his sister to Travis' corpse and the knife sticking out there so welcoming. It was like a sign from God, if he cared to put stock in such things. It would be easy enough to add another set of garbage bags on their way down the gulfstream.
He looked down at Debra's face. It would be very different without her in his life, a major gap in his usual experiences. Using his finger, he traced a line down her cheek, wondering if it was appropriate to collect her blood for a slide.
"Dexter, you can't just murder your sister like this," Harry insisted from over his shoulder. "Think about what Debra means to you, what she's done for you all these years."
"She's been a loyal friend, a good sister," he admitted, stroking her head. He smoothed out her hair. "But that's come to an end. She's seen what I am, seen my darkest face. There's no going back from that."
"She'll find it hard to trust you again, Dexter, but give it time," Harry said. "You're her brother. She cares about you."
"She's a lieutenant," he argued. "Her duty compels her to bring me to justice, to lock me away…" For the briefest instant, he felt the Dark Passenger slip into his mind and imagine itself in chains. It did not like that one bit, and he squeezed Debra hard. "Rule number one: never get caught…"
"Rule number two: never kill an innocent," Harry countered. "Debra is a law enforcement officer."
"Hardly worthy of my table," he murmured. "Still, I can't just let her go…"
A plan forming, he laid her on the floor and turned to his staged kill. "I'll make it look like the Doomsday Killer abducted her, send the police on a wild goose chase."
"And Debra?" Harry asked.
"I'll have to keep her safe and secure." He walked over to his supplies, retrieved a roll of duct tape and secured her arms and legs through hogtying her. He tugged to make sure her restraints held firm.
"Hardly for her benefit," Harry said scornfully.
"No, it's for mine," he agreed. "Something tells me she won't be very happy with me. Anyway, I'm keeping her alive, so you've got nothing to complain about."
Author's note: My first real foray into the Dexter fandom. I don't quite have my feel for the characters, but I'll give it my best effort. I don't see anyone writing about Dexter reacting in quite this manner. Should be fun, though perhaps not for Debra.