A/N: This is my first attempt at a multi chapter AU Debster verse. I have some general ideas of where this will go and it's about halfway written so far, but there are still some very big holes in this! Anyways, I would love to hear your thoughts and could definitely use some guidance!

He's kissing that spot she likes so much, right there on her neck. She can feel her knees going weak and wraps her arms around him, whispers in his ear "Just fuck me already."

He laughs at that, lets his fingertips slip under her shirt. "Always so eager." He smiles at her, kisses her gently a few times before Deb can take no more, wraps her arms around his neck and holds on while she devours him.

"Okay, okay." He laughs when he finally manages to pull away. "You need to get rid of these first." With a flick of his finger he pushes her onto the waiting bed, bends down and pulls her shoes and socks off.

She waits, mostly patiently, as he leans over her and undoes the buttons of her shirt and pants, one by one. Deb jiggles her legs, looks at him pleadingly, but she knows the rules. She plays the game his way or not at all. She's surprised, by how much he likes to control things in the bedroom. But she admits begrudgingly to him that she enjoys it.

He finally has her naked, has even gotten down to his boxers. Now he kneels between her legs, trails his fingers along the contours of her body. She sighs delightedly, as he draws a line with his index finger along her arm. Then glides the side of his hand against her leg.

"Rudy…" She finally whines impatiently.

"Shhh…." His face is a study in concentration. "I'm figuring something out."

Deb giggles. "What?"

"Where to make the first cut."

Deb looks up at him confused, but he chooses that moment to pull off his boxers, and without much preamble he pushes into her.

"Ugh." Deb grunts in discomfort, taken aback at the suddenness. But he quickly makes it better, reaches between their bodies and coaxes her arousal. He looks down at her, grins. It fills her with happiness, but then there is a flash of wickedness, and her gut churns in response. In a moment it is gone, and he is muttering how much he loves her.

Deb sighs in relief, kisses him tenderly as he makes love to her. His lips and fingers glide over her body, settling in surprising locations before flitting off again. She can feel her heart swell with joy as he tends to her.

She climaxes, digging her fingers into him and calling his name. She's just coming off of the high, his body still thrusting into hers when she sees the flash. Her eyes catch the blade, glinting menacingly at her. It comes down with a zinging sound, slices into her flesh. The pain is agonizing, but the sight of her severed hand is worse. She screams.

Deb wakes panting, heart racing, beads of sweat sliding down her forehead. She thrashes for a moment as she gets her bearings in Dexter's dark living room. Shoving away the bedding violently, she sits up on the couch, swipes her hand against her forehead.

She's dry heaving, sobbing and she closes a hand over her mouth, afraid to wake Dexter in the next room. It's a good five minutes before the dream recedes far enough to the edges of her mind that she is sure it was never real. But the sound of the knife, the pain, the sight of her own blood, haunt her.

She calms herself, takes deep even breaths, but its small comfort against the idea of 2 am darkness and the shadows clinging to the walls. Shakily she moves to the bathroom, rinses her face in the dark. Her fear makes her want to flood the room with light, but she doesn't want to see her expression, the sadness and terror that cling to her.

It's been three weeks since the truth came to light. Three weeks of not sleeping. Three weeks of horrific nightmares. Three weeks of doing nothing but fucking thinking of him.

She keeps trying to convince everyone that she's fine, thank you very much. But she knows much better. She knows she will never be fucking fine again. She knows she will never be able to look at anything the same way. But she's afraid that if she admits that out loud to anyone, that it will set in stone. It will cement her as forever changed.

It doesn't help that she isn't allowed to work. Although she does understand it. She is quite sure if she were to walk into a crime scene right now that she would have a panic attack.

Deb stands in Dexter's living room and considers her options. She hates being outside by herself after dark, even though right now a run or a swim are probably the only things that would make her feel better. She can't sleep once she awakens from these nightmares, and returning to the couch seems like a terrible idea. She doesn't want the noise of the tv.

She glances towards Dexter's room, the door open for her benefit. She moves quietly towards it, peeks her head inside. Dexter lies still as usual; as a kid she would often think he was dead because he slept so soundly.

She moves closer, sees that he's ensconced on one side of the bed. She wants to be near him, to feel his calming presence. Since everything happened, he is her only comfort. He is the only one whose very company soothes her. She pulls back the covers gently, slides beneath the sheets.

She lies still for a moment, listens to his even breathing. But tonight it's not enough. She feels the need to touch him, and scoots closer. She hopes he won't notice as she lightly places her hand over his heart. It beats steadily and soothingly. His breathing hasn't changed, so Deb moves closer still. She slides right up next to him, gently places her head on his chest. She listens to the soft thumping and finally feels her body relax.

The tension oozes out of her as Dexter's chest rises and falls steadily.

"Deb?" His voice is quiet enough that she doesn't startle. He wraps a protective arm around her.

"I had a bad dream." Even to her own ears her voice sounds childlike. She's grateful that she has Dexter to lean on; she couldn't be like this with anyone else. Especially not after what has happened.

"Ok. Can you sleep?" His voice is husky.

"Yes." She is surprised to realize.

He doesn't say anything else and she drifts off quickly. He's glad she has finally chosen to do this. After three weeks of waking every night with her, he is feeling worn down. He'll hear her shouts around 2. And then he'll listen as she paces, moves around the small apartment and tries so hard not to disturb him.

Several times he has considered going to her, but he knows Deb well. She needed to come to him in her own time and in her own way. So he waited, until she was finally ready to take comfort in him. He had actually been surprised it had taken her so long. That she hadn't fallen asleep next to his bed like she used to when they were kids.

The nights she took the bed she seemed to sleep a bit longer, the nightmares a bit less severe. But even then, she would wake shouting.

Even though it pained him to have to kill Brian, he knows he has made the right choice. Every day since it happened, every moment they are together, he is grateful she is still alive.

He places his hand over hers on his chest, and wonders at the peace she gives him. When he's apart from her during the day, Brian haunts him constantly. His brother taunts him mercilessly, asking about Deb, questioning why Dexter chose her. But in her presence the voice quiets and any doubts that were raised are quickly squashed.

He can feel her heart beating against him, matches his breaths to hers, and falls back to a dreamless sleep.

Dexter is surprised to find his sister wide awake, banging dishes around, bright and early the next morning. She's never been a morning person and to see her bright eyed at all in these past few weeks is a welcome change.

He surveys the mess in his kitchen as she smiles at him. "I'm making pancakes."

He shakes his head, laughs. "No, you're not. Your pancakes are burnt blobs that I would rather not attempt to eat."

"Hey!" She throws a towel at him, but then sighs, puts down the mixing bowl and raises her hands. "You're right, this is your forte. So I guess you're making me pancakes." She grins at him mischievously.

"I walked right into that."

"Sucker." Deb teases.

He gives her a good look, can see that she's still struggling, but she wants so badly to be better. "You went for a run?"

She nods as she drinks her coffee. "I slept really well…" Deb adds quietly "after…"

Dexter agrees, tries not to make a big deal out of it, but realizes they both needed it.

After breakfast she cleans up the kitchen and he gets ready for work. He pauses on his way out, gives her a quick hug, but she holds onto him a bit longer, grateful for his affection. She pulls back finally, smiles awkwardly at him. "I won't be needy forever. I promise."

Dexter just grins in return, thinks it's better not to admit that he likes it.