Hey, guys! So this is my first "Dexter" fanfic...so be nice. Anyway, I finished watching season 6 (holy shit what an ending) and I got inspired to continue on from the end, and fill in what I think will happen/what I want to happen (teehee). I know there is already a 7th season, and I've seen it up to episode 5, but I just had my own ideas in my head that I needed to get down. This is going to be extremely long with multiple chapters, but all will be from Dexter's POV. It picks up RIGHT after Deb walks in on him killing Travis, and nothing has been changed from the original plot that Showtime has created. Anyway, I hkope you enjoy it :)
"Maybe there really is a place for me in this world. Afterall, light cannot exist without darkness. If there is a purpose, as Brother Sam said there is, then maybe my purpose is to bring balance to the world."
Bleed For Me
"Oh, God." The irony of my words affects me just as much as the sight of my sister walking into the church does. What the fuck is she doing here? This isn't supposed to be happening. I was never supposed to let her in on my dirty, ugly secret, and yet, here she is, standing before me, her face twisted into unreadable emotions ranging from complete shock to sadness. My dark passenger exposed to the one person I thought I could always protect from it. It takes awhile before she moves, but when she does her hand immediatly reaches for her belt where her gun is secured. It seems as though the notion that I'm her brother never occurs to her; she raises the gun on me as if I'm a complete stranger, and I might as well be.
"Get away from the body!" Her posture is straight, her tone loud and demanding, like it normally would be when she's taking down a criminal. For all someone could tell, they would think she's determinded, unwavered. But I can see the end of the gun shaking ever so slightly and her arms trembling as she aims the pistol at my chest. I raise my hands up as if to surrender, allowing the knife that I had just stabbed Travis with to clatter to the ground.
"Deb-" I can barely pronounce her name. It comes out as a quiet whisper that for some reason, sounds far away. She becomes a blur, a simple blob moving in front of my darting green eyes. Is this a dream? I think. Did I really just kill Travis? Yes, I had to have. I can feel his limp body laying on the alter in front me, even in my dazed mind I can remember the conversation that had just taken place between us before Deb walked in. I can even fucking see his blood covering my hands, oozing from the wound in his chest and spilling over onto the tile floor. This is real. "It's me."
"I know it's you, you dumbass, just back the fuck away!" If it weren't for the intensity of the situation I would most likely be taking admiration into her foul-mouth. Still, I obey, sort of like a dog to its master, because afterall, I've spent my whole life following suit to a dead guy who one could argue, did more wrong than good and ended up getting my mother killed. That and the detail that if I don't Deb could easily have the whole Miami Metro team on my ass in a mere second. "Who's on the alter?" She demands, never averting her eyes from mine, yet I can still see the gun trembling. Her voice is even starting to crack. I owe her the truth at least.
She inhales and shakes her head as if trying to deny the words she just heard come from my mouth. I can only imagine what she's feeling.
"Dexter, Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?" There's no possible way to explain this. At least not in a sane sense that she will understand. I can't say this was done in the heat of the moment, or that it was "by accident". Everything in front of me; the body, the knives, the apron, the overall ritaul that I take part in every time I kill is upon me. Maybe, I think, there is a way to cover it up; explain to her that Travis kidnapped Harrison, but I don't want to lie to her anymore than I already have. I lie to everyone I know, except to my victums right before they die. "Dexter!" Her voice breaks through my mind once again. Shit. Ths is isn't going away, so I blurt out the first sensibly reasonable explanation that crosses my mind, and evidentally, it's the thruth.
"I...snapped." The moment I say it, the words taste sour on my tongue. I'm expecting her to yell, maybe even cry, but to my surprise, Deb starts giggling in an odd, half choking half sobbing sort of way. I wonder if she's gone insane. "Uh, Deb?" I ask, hoping she hasn't lost it.
"What's wrong with me?" She responds. I notice tears in her eyes. What the hell is this? Deb's never been great at controlling her emotions, but whatever this is, it's a lot worse. For a moment I can almost forget her gun that's still pointed directly at me.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask. Considering she just walked in on me killing someone, she's the one that no longer can come up with a sane response.
"Am I seriously that fucking retarded?" She asks, her voice getting higher and more hysterical, "I must be the worst cop in history if I couldn't even tell that my own brother was a fucking pyscho!"
"Deb," I try to reconcile with her the only way I know how, "don't feel bad, you're-"
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" she shouts, streadying the end of the gun.
"I'm trying to help!" I take a step towards her, hoping that she'll embrace me the many time she always did whenver she needed...someone to hold onto. And it hurts when she steps back, away from me; the fear of losing Deb, the way she's looking at me. It hurts almost as much as watching my mother being chopped to bits and pieces. As much as slicing my brother's throat and finding Rita dead in that bathtub. As much as hearing Harrison's screams as he sat in a pool of her blood. But not as much as the sound of the trigger that reverbates against the church walls when I take another step towards her.
A sharp pain, not emotional for the first time, shoots through my abdamon, taking my breath away. I see Deb's face, tears falling down her cheeks, watching me. I can feel the blood seeping from the bullet wound, but I know it's not fatal. Without hesitation I drop to my knees at the same time Deb drops the gun from her hands and moves towards me in the same, swift moment.
"Oh Jesus fucking Christ, I'm sorry, Dex...Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean...Fuck!" she screams, but she throws herself against me, fiercly, wrapping her frail arms around my neck. As if she can somehow hug the pain right out of me. I feel my body beginning to go limp.
"You just...snapped, Deb," I breathe into her hair. I don't feel pain anymore, I simply black out. The last thing I hear is Deb's strangled, mumbled, sobs.