A/N: This takes place AFTER Showtime's Season 4 of Dexter. Beware of spoilers. Hardcore.
"How did it come to this? You take all safety precautions. You calculate every step. You make sure everything is how it should be. Never making a choice without knowing the consequences. Everything had to be perfect. No room for errors. Where did it all go wrong?" A room darkly lit rested in silence as a man stood gazing out of a window. The curtains were mostly closed, but was parted just enough to allow a single ray of light to flow in. The moon was held high, illuminating the sky. The house which had once been full of life was now empty. No sounds of the pots and pans as cooking was held in the kitchen. No soft touches of a loving wife. No laughing of the children at play. No more pizza nights on a Friday night after work. No more banana split sundays together on a warm sunny day. No more anything. It was all...gone. "Lives are lived without realizing that we take things for granted."
The figure turns from the window and looks to some pictures on the wall. There are a few wedding pictures and family photos. Rita. Astor. Cody. Harrison. All of them were smiling at him, but he felt nothing. He was empty. "I failed them..." And it was something he would always live with for the rest of his life. Nothing he could do could change what he had brought upon them. "I should have never gotten involved with Arthur. Rita shouldn't have had to pay for my mistakes." Dexter's hands lowered to the table in front of him to run his fingers over the wedding ring that had belonged to his wife. The silver band was placed upon his keys, so that she'd always be near.
After a moment Dexter turned away from the table with the keys in his hand as he walked over to the door. A black bag was placed beside it and within it would be all the tools necessary to perform his perfect ritual. Things had changed. Nothing was like it used to be. "What would the old Dexter have done differently..?" He wondered as he knelt down to pick up the bag. He placed the strap over his shoulder and glanced around the living and dining area one last time.
The door closed behind him as he began his walk to his van. He opened the passenger side to place the black bag upon the seat, before walking around to seat himself in the driver's side. The engine roared to life as the key was turned into the ignition. Tonight was the night. A sacred ritual was going to happen. It had to happen or else the chaos would control him. The blood spatterist pulled out of his driveway and began the long drive to begin the set up of his next victim. The location was perfect. An old abandoned warehouse in a small town that had long-ago closed down due to an abundance of unemployment. This warehouse had been the very thing keeping the people employed and when it went down, everything went with it.
Dexter pulled up in the back and quickly removed all of his equipment before moving out to the spot he'd chosen. He withdrew the plastic wrap from his bag and began going to work. Making sure every square inch was covered in plastic. The whole while nothing was on his mind other than catching the next victim for his kill. There was no guarantee he would be catching the guy any time soon, but he had to prepare for it. At any moment he could capture him and should that moment come it was important Dexter was prepared for it. "Jose Lizarraga. Arrested for the raping and murdering of several women and children. While in prison he managed to successfully break free himself and half a dozen other inmates. Mob bosses, Rapists, Murderers. They were all free to go back to their life of crimes."
He paused for a moment as he tucked the plastic back into his bag, having finished the job. His eyes wandered across the room one last time, checking for spots of error. "Jose was spotted in Miami; Alone. Should the occasion come, I will find him." When he saw that there were no errors, he turned off the lights and exited the warehouse to begin his drive back into town. He drove around a few locations where he had picked up leads on Jose's whereabouts. With luck, perhaps he'd see him tonight. Dexter parked alongside the road before climbing out of the vehicle. "Like finding the needle in the hay stack..." He thought to himself calmly as he walked down the sidewalk. This part of Miami wasn't the most popular and it rarely had many people coming and going. Only the shady types were ever found here, so why not give it a try?
There was a run-down bar open up ahead that seemed promising enough, so the Blood Spatterist began to make his way over to it. Tonight felt nice. His blood was pumping fiercely throughout his body. It knew. The thrill of the hunt. It was exactly what he needed. This is what he was and this is what he'd always be. Nothing and no one could ever change that. Dexter slipped into the bar, standing out just a bit seeing as he wasn't as raggedy and as shady looking as the other characters seen stumbling around with beers in their hands. The bar was mostly full, but had a couple of spaces. Without drawing much attention on himself, he snaked his way through the crowd until he seated himself upon one of the bar stools. Little did he know that the whole time he'd been followed and had been for quite some time. One would think that Dexter Morgan would be easy to catch something like that. Perhaps only the old Dexter would have noticed. Dexter remained in the bar for a little while and just as he was thinking about leaving to search elsewhere, Jose Lizarraga showed up.
Some time passed and with it the more Jose drank. The bar was closing soon and so most of everyone was leaving to crawl back in their homes. Everyone except Jose. He had no home here in Miami. When the Hispanic exited the bar, Dexter was right behind him. Of course he made sure to have a little distance between the two of them so it wasn't suspicious to on-lookers. Dexter was tailing him without even raising a single red-flag to the few people that were around. All it would take was for Jose to turn down a dark alley, or a deserted street and Dexter would have him.
As Jose made a left to go down the empty street, Dexter made his move. Swiftly withdrawing his needle from his pocket he was quick to approach Jose directly and grab him from behind. He used one hand to force his head to the side, exposing his neck, before sliding the needle in and injecting the etorphine hydrochloride. In seconds the man was unconscious. Dexter wasted no time dragging him back to where his van had been parked. He popped the trunk and hoisted the body into the back before closing it. Now all that he needed to do was get back to that warehouse. Time was growing thin, it was already way late into the night, it wouldn't be long before the sun caught up with him.
The drive to the warehouse was made with haste. Upon arriving, Dexter removed Jose from the back of his van and dragged him all the way to the room that was perfectly done in plastic. The next step was to remove Jose's article of clothing. He made sure to bag all of the Hispanic's clothes into a hefty bag before wrapping his victim in plastic. The third step; Pictures of all of his victims were removed from the black bag and placed where Jose could see them from his position on the table. Dexter paused a moment to stare at all of the faces of Jose's victims. The women surprisingly were the ones that stood out the most to him. "All of them. Married women with children. Their husbands robbed of a wife. Their kids will never know...They'll never know the touch or feel the love of a mother. They'll grow up without any idea of what it's like to have a mother to call their own...Just like mine..." Dexter lowered his head briefly, his brows pulling together as his eyes forced shut. "I've always been alone, but for the first time in a long time...I actually feel alone." The blood analyst turned from the pictures, his head raising as his eyes opened to fall upon the unconscious victim.
He removed a stick of smelling salts from his bag and snapped it in half before placing it under Jose's nose. Instantly he awoke, his breathing heavy as awareness flooded back to him. "What the fuck?" His voice was hoarse and fear was instilled in it. "What the fuck is this? Who are you?" He demanded, his eyes glued onto the mysterious man before him.
"That's not important." Dexter replied, returning the gaze on his victim. "Jose Lizarraga." He spoke calmly, turning from him to look at the pictures. "Recognize any of them?" A hand raised to gesture towards all of the photos, before his attention returned upon the man.
Jose's eyes strained to see what he was motioning at and when he saw the familiar faces, a look of horror struck. "I didn't do it! I'm innocent!" He immediately shouted, claiming innocence over the obvious guilt.
A sense of satisfaction came from Dexter. "I haven't even said anything. You just gave yourself away."
"What do you want?" Jose asked, seeming to want to go the negotiable route. "I-I can give you anything. Just, please, fuckin-don't hurt me!"
"I don't want anything you could give me." Dexter said sternly. "The only thing I've ever wanted was already taken from me." His expression was dark at these words as thoughts of Rita played in his head. A soft sigh emerged from the Dark Passenger as he pushed these thoughts aside. "All I want now, is for you to be gone. Rid the world of your filth." His voice had returned to calm as he picked up the scalpel to cut Jose's right cheek. A cry of pain emerged from him and a few nervous breaths as he watched Dexter place a single drop of his blood on a slide.
"Fuck you!" Jose spat, after a moment had passed. "You think you can just kill me?"
Dexter stared down at him. "Uh, yes." He replied, bluntly, shoving a wad of gauze into his mouth. "Not really much you can do. Given your current state, I don't think you're suited to do much of anything to help yourself." He added, making his way over to his bag of tools. His fingers ran along the different tools, contemplating which to use. Deciding to go with a simple stab, his hands wrapped around the handle of a chef's knife, pulling it out and examining it's blade momentarily. Jose's shouts were muffled as he looked at the blade held within Dexter's hand. Feeling no need to further chat with him, Dexter rammed the knife into the center of Jose's chest, watching as the blood seeped out and spread neatly beneath the plastic wrap. His hazel eyes watching intently as the man took his last breath. A deep sigh released from Dexter, his firm grip around the blade slipping. Silence fell among the room as he took a moment to regroup. He had done it. He had performed the ritual. It was a success. But why didn't he feel any different? Confused, Dexter pulled the blade from his chest and then proceeded over to his bag of tools to grab his mini saw. This is what he would use to dismember the body, so that it could be neatly wrapped into six separate hefty bags. Ready to be packaged off to the Golf Stream.
The dismembering didn't take too long and though it didn't seem to do much for Dexter, he was still certain it was what he needed. "I certainly wasn't expecting to recover instantly once I could kill again...but I didn't expect to feel less whole. What's wrong with me?" He wondered as he picked up the last remaining body part to place into a bag. He turned away from the table to stack the last piece with the others when he paused. A figure was standing in the door frame, staring right at him. The lighting was dark and it wasn't easy to distinguish who it was. However a voice spoke to him. It was a familiar one, but for some reason it didn't match up.
"Dexter..?" Rita stepped forward, a look of complete disappointment. She was hurt. She could see him for what he really was, for the first time.
"Rita..?" Dexter's voice quaked, his heart pounding. "What the hell is this? This can't be real. Why am I suddenly seeing Rita?" His thoughts were racing through his head. All he could do was remain frozen, with the last wrapped body part grasped within his hands. His hands and shirt covered in blood. He was found guilty and it wasn't by Rita; it was Lila. His vision focused onto what it actually was, rather than seeing who he truly wanted. Before him was the pale, black haired woman he had grown to hate. She was supposed to have been one of his victims, but had gotten away. How the hell did she get here and why was she here? Dexter stared dumbfounded, words unable to express what he felt. "Lila?"