A/N: This is Debster (Dexter/Debra) romance fic. Don't like it, don't read it. It takes place after season seven. There will be spoilers for finale of that season.
There are some adult themes right away, but rating M is mainly for later chapters (well, you need to wine and dine them first, right?). I think this will be pretty long, multi-chapter story.
Please forgive any minor grammar or spelling mistakes, English is not my native language. I tried to keep this grammatically correct, but You never know.
As you probably guessed, I don't owe any Dexter characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
Read and enjoy :)
She sat on old chair near by, tryng to catch some breath.
"Oh, fuck", she gasped. She briefly glared on LaGuerta's dead body, but she turned her head away almost immediately, tryng to hold back upcomimg tears.
"What... what will we do? I... if I confess... they will catch you... but if I don't... what if all this gets out control, if... Oh, fucking shit! What if I become like...", she didn't dare to finish that sentence.
He kneed next to her and gently put his hand on her right knee.
"Shhh", he whispered. "Just listen to me."
She did so.
"Look... You wanted to protect me. Your brother. There is nothing wrong with that. You are not the monster. You're the good person. You don't deserve to go to jail. Especially not because of me. And it won't get out of control, I assure you. You... you are not me."
She stopped crying and looked at him with her beautifully deep, tearfilled eyes.
"Look... Now... You will drive home. You will put this clothes in trash bags, and go to sleep. And you will take some sleep. You need a rest. I owe you. I will take care of... this. OK?"
She was still looking at him for some time in silence, like she is having second thoughts, but then, she nodded, and walked away.
Dexter waited till he heard her car pulling away. Then, he got on work.
He removed all protective plastic from the room. Then he tooked protective plastic off Hector and got him dressed. He ran to trunk of his car and put plastic in one of trash bags inside, which he planned to use for storing Hector's dismembered remains. He leaned his body against the wall opoosite to LaGuearta's body, then lifted her up, posing like she was standing too. Blood was already dry, so there was no danger of disturbing blood splatters. He took LaGuerta's gun, puted it in her right hand, knowing that she is right handed, and shoot him twice in chest, each time exactly in stabbing wound, to make it seem that they killed each other. He fell on the floor, bleeding. He tooked gun Debra used to shoot LaGuerta, tooked one rare piece of protective plastic which wasn't bloody, and used it to wipe off gun. He was wiping it for full five minutes, making sure that no fingerprints or DNA will remain on it. He tooked rest of the bullets from gun, and pressed Hector's right thumb and index finger on every bullet and shell casing (he knew that Hector is right handed too). He would do that for quite a while, making sure that hus fingerprints will remain on those idoms. He puted bullets back in gun and shell casing back in it's exact position, then he planted gun in Hector's right hand. He found another clean piece of protective plastic and rubbed it against the top of the gun, transporting gunshot residue on it, and then he rubber it over Hector's right hand, transporting gunshot residue on it. He hoped in his car and quickly drove off.
She is safe. My sister is safe. Those were his thoughts while driving back home.
One month later
He parked his car on parking lot in front of strip club just twenty miles away from his home, and tooked a deep breath, tryng to stay calm and concentrated.
Everything was prepared, as always. Plastic trash bag was on pasenger seat. Inside, there were ten other plastic trash bags, three pairs of latex gloves, scuba knife, stun gun and lots of protective plastic. Some of that plastic was olready used to cover the interior of trunk of his car. Chainsaw was lyng om back seat of his car, covered with brown blanket.
Greg Heffernan, thirty one years old. That night on 1st June 2011, entered the store in which his cousin, seventeen years old Marcey Smith, was working. Nobody else was there. He forced her on knife point to give him money from sef and cash box. He undressed her, binded her wrists and gaged her with gym towels, raped her with condom to avoid leaving DNA, slashed her throat, turned off smoke alarm, burned her clothing, condom and it's wrapper in sink in toilet, and fleed. There were only three pieces of evidence linking him to a crime, but still, more than enough to convince Dexter that guy is guilty as hell. First one was photograph taken by high-speed camera. It showed him driving his car only two miles away from scene of a murder, on night of a murder and in approximate time of a murder. That evidence lead to his arrest. Second evidence were sneakers found in his possession. They were washed in bleach, but they matched-by size, brand and thread marks-to unidentifeid latent shoe prints found on crime scene. Third evidence were black leather gloves found in his closet: they matched to size of his fists, and they also matched to partial glove print found on crime scene. No other evidences survived: they were also washed in bleach, like some of his clothes. Fourth piece of evidence was money found hidden in air vane in his bedroom. Lots of of usable fingerprints were found on bills. One typ belonged to Greg, second one to Marcey. All others were linked to customers, who all had alibies for time of her murder. However, when he was put on trial, he claimed he was driving to visit his friend, who lived five mile away from crime scene. Friend was drunk that night and couldn't confirm that. His car had no GPS. All other evidences couldn't be used in court, because police selected them without warrant. There were signs that towels used to bind her and gage her with towels stolen from gym he attended, but that wasn't strong evidence and analysis of DNA traces found om towels prooved inconclusive. He was released. Eight months after, on 25th February 2012, thirty-two year old Maggie Davies was abducted. She was found in forest two days later. Her body was burned, inside her burned car. One licence plate was recovered; car was registered on her. She was naked. Her wrists and mouths were taped with black duct tape. She was killed by (most likely limiture) strangulation. Injury on back of her skull pointed out that she was non-fataly bludgeoned, possibly in order to knock her unconsciousness. Her body was lying on back seat. She worked in bacery opened only five months prior to her dead. Bacery was opened half mile away from Greg's apartment. Greg started visiting bacery regulary almost immediately after it was opened. Most of the evidences were burned, but some silavia survived on remains of her burned T-shirt. DNA analysis linked it with Greg. He claimed he visited bacery the day she dissapeared and sneezed, transporting silavia on her T-shirt. He alouded polive to search his apartment. They found duct tape which looked simmilair to that found on her body, but exact match was impossible to determe due to damage made by fire. Shape of crowbar found in his apartment looked simmilair to injury on back of her head, but there was no usable fingerprints on it and it was cleaned in acid so there was no usable DNA evidence. Again, he was never charged with murder.
He was stalking him for two months now. He knows he will leave this strip club at 1:30 am, in five minutes. He also noticed hr started stalking his neighbour, 22 year old Judith Miller. He probably plus to rape and murder her too. Then he will put on gloves, sneak up to him, taser him, and drag him in trunk of his car. He will drive him to abonded house twenty miles away, which he olready choose. He will cover up whole place in plastic, undress him, put him on big old pool table he found there, wrap him in plastic, put framed photographs of his victims on small cupboard near the pool table, wait for him to wake up, took sample of his blood, give him lecture about his undoings, and kill him. He will took a chain saw, dismember his body, put his remains and protective plastic in trash bags, wrap "tools" in blanket seal bags with duct tape, drove him to his boath, park his car there, dump bags in his boath, hop in it, drive ten-twenty miles away, dump bags there, take of his gloves and dump them there too. Then he will drive back home, put his blood sample in his secret box, clean up chainsaw and knife, put them back in his weapon conection, wash blanket in beach, put it back in his car, took a shower, and go to sleep.
Then, why does he feel so... down? Nervous? It happens very rare that other emotions-in this case, some strange... discomfort, sadness, frustration-suppress his thirst for kill, but now, for some reason, they did. Not enough to keep him from doing that, of course, but enough that this whole murder scheme isn't the first thing on his mind right now.
Why is that so? What is wrong with him, or, better to say, what is different with him? And why?
It actually makes sense. Lots of things happened lately. Again, he was almost caught. And anniversary of Rita's death is close. No wonder that he feels this way.
He was thinking about that for last couple of months... but he was never brave enough to admit that. But now, he is slowly facing the truth. And truth is this: he needs someone in his life. Somebody who will understand him, care for him... Help him with geting through all this shit. But he really doesn't likes to get through all that process of making friend or, even worse, romantic relationship. He could easily do that, being manipulative and intelligent as usual sociopath, but he simply dislikes it. That's one reason. Another reason is... well, he probably lost faith in most of the people and he really doesn't want to try something serious like that with someone and then end up feeling cheated or dissapointed. Lately, he barely trusts people he knows; there is no way to start something like that with person he doesn't know prior to the begining of that... whatever it is. And he barely managed to feel affection towards them, after all these years: chances to actually bonus with someone are pretty slim.
Well, there is always Debra, right?
Morning after LaGuerta's murder, he drove to Debra's home. He had backpack with lighter, old bucket, latex gloves, spunge, bottle of bleach, big clean towel and new clothes and shoes. He tooked trash bag with bloody clothes. He washed traces of blood in her car using bleach and sponge. Then he burned clothes and bag in back yard, in old bucket in which he kept micxture of bleach and water, after it and spunge got dry. He flushed ashes down the toilet, and dumped the gloves and bucket in dumpster near her house. He tooked his clothes and shoes off in her bathroom (because it had traces of dirt and smoke on it), wrapped it in towel, puted it in his backpack, puted on new clothes and shoes, and puted backpack in trunk of his. Then they drove to work, each in their own car, and got on work in silence. Soonly, it became obvious that LaGuerta is gone. Searched was organized immediately. After four hours, bodies were found.
That night, upon returning home, he washed backpack, towel, clothes and gloves in bleach. Investigation lasted for barely three days. It was concluded that they shoot each other.
Since LaGuerta's murder, they started hanging out much more than usual, but they barely even talked about event which brought them closer to each other. Who knows why. But still, at this moment, she is the closest to him on almost every level human being can be close with another human being or, in this case, someone like him... She even killed someone because of him, and still, she doesn't hate him, she doesn't see him as monster. But, if that is so, why isn't he satisfeid? Maybe he grew so close to her that he cane to a point when he wants... more? But what more than that which they have right now could he want from his sister?
He got so carried away in his thoughts that he noticed Greg only when he was olready out of strip club, half way towards his car.
Kinda panicking, he quickly took gloves and put them over his hands. He already had quite a practice in putting on white latex gloves over his hands, but now, it turned out to be quite clumsy. He planned to put two gloves over each hand, but he needed to satisfei himself with only one. Then he tooked stun gun and run out of car, leaving doors opened. Greg was just planning to unlock his car when Dexter stoped behind him. He quickly looked around and, before Greg could do a thing, he electrocuted him with stun gun, knocking him unconsciousness. He quickly hid stun gun in right pocket of his pants, dragged Greg's body to trunk of his car, openes it, stuffed his body inside, looked around once more, closed the trunk doors, tooked key from left pocket of his pants, locked the trunk doors, hoped on drivers seat, closed the doors behind, put on seat belt, turned on the car with key, and quickly drove off. His heart was beating and sweat was rolling down his heating face. His eyes were widened and he kept them concentrated on the road in front of him, in order to calm himself down.
He was already feeling little calmer when he arrived to that abonded house. As always, he immediately started working. In little more than fifteen minutes, whole place was covered with plastic, Greg, still unonsciousness, was lyng on the pool table, naked, wrapped in plastic, framed photographs of victims were on small cupboard near the pool table, and, on that same cupboard, there were scuba knife and two small pieces of macroscope glass. Chain saw was on the floor, behind it. And know, he was siting on chair near by, his eyes entirely focused on Greg, waiting for him to wake up.
Finaly, Greg started regaining consiciousness. Dexter grabbed knife and one macroscope glass and walked towards him. He cuted his right cheek with the knife and leted one single drip of his blood to drip on it.
"What the fuck?!", Greg screamed in fear and pain.
Dexter calmly walked towards cuoboard, puted knife and glass on it, and pressed another glass over first one, widening the blood splatter. Then he tooked the knife and started walking closer to Greg again.
"Quite a feeling, isn't it?", Dexter asked him. "That's probably how Marcey Smith and Maggie Davies felt."
"I didn't kill those bitches, OK?"
"But you did, Greg. We both know you did. Only you weren't convicted. And do you want to hear the irony? They will never convict me for your murder either."
"Why are you doing this?", Greg screamesd in fear and rage, tryng to release from his bounds.
"Because of the same reason you did all those terrible things", Dexter said. "Because I like it-he explained and stabbed him in the heart."
It was 3 am when he finaly returned home. Pretty tired, he puted his tools in tool conection carefully hidden in his room, wrapped in blanket. He decided to wash it tomorrow.
He tooked Coca Cola can from fridge, sat on couch in living room, opened the can and took the sip.
Hector was gone. For a month now. His mother can rest in peace. He can live in, well, sort-of peace now... And he commited one other murder, first in a month, perfectly like others. He is back on the track. But he feels, he is afraid to admit it, but he feels, he knows that he needs one more thing to be completly happy. Unfortunately, he will never have her, he can't, he mustn't, he...
He turned around and saw Debra standing near couch, barefoot, wearing yelow T-shirt and white shorts.
"What are you doing here?", he asked.
"I told you that I will live here for a week or two", she reminded him. "Deratization of my ouse, rember?"
"I... I know... I mean... What are you doing up? It's pass three am."
"I can't fall sleep", she said and sat on couch next to him. "You just got there, right?
"Yes", he noded and tooked another sip of Coca Cola.
"Another one of your "projects"?"
He just signed.
They were siting there in silence for few minutes.
"Thank you-she suddenly said. "For... helping me out. With... all that "LaGuerta" mess."
He glared at her.
"You don't need to thank me", he said. "I needed to do that, after what you done for me."
"Don't feel bad about it. It was hard for me at first, but I realized that is just the way it needed to be."
She pressed her soft lips against his right cheek. Kiss sent shivers down his skin. He softly moaned in pleasure, but he hoped she didn't notice.
"I don't say this very often... but I'm lucky to have you."
"You stole the word out my mouth", he whispered, silently, but not silent enough for her not to hear him.
She gently slid her hand through his hair.
"I'll try to get some sleep now", she said. "Good night", she said, stood up and walked back in her bedroom.
"Good night", he said too, with strange, sudden shivers in his voice.
He dumped now empty Coca Cola can in trash can, took a quick shower, walked in his bedroom and lay in his bed, despite he knew that there is little chance he will be able to fall asleep after this...