A Dexter / Debra story which I will continue. Contains both angst, later explicit content and murder. Read at your own choice.

"You can stay here tonight." Hannah grinned softly, placing a hand on Dexter's shoulder. He shook his head with faltering eyes, looking down for a short time.

"I can't. I have something I must do." He replied, his voice low.

"Are you visiting Debra at the hospital?" Hannah asked him with a look of sympathy on her face, and Dexter looked back up at her. He shook his head again. "Estrada?" She asked, and again, he shook his head.

"No. He'll have to wait. I put off the deal with him, and he's up to meet me in a few days." He said, almost whispering. He moved around Hannah, placing a hand on her shoulder from behind, leaning his lips towards her ear. "I was rather thinking you could stay with me instead." He whispered, and Hannah smiled.

"You're right. It's not often we go to your place." She grinned, closing her eyes from the feeling of his breath in her ear.

"No." Dexter smiled, stroking a strand of her away from over her neck. "We're going somewhere else." He whispered. Hannah could hear the rustling of pants, or pockets, but she didn't give it a second thought.

"Oh? Then where are we-" her voice was cut off by the tiny sting in her neck, followed by a strong dizziness. "Dexter, what are you.." She blubbered, but her consciousness faded away before she managed to say any more.

"We're going for a trip on my boat." Dexter whispered, carefully letting Hannah slump down on her back. "You're finally going to overcome your fear of water. But first, we have to stop by my special place."

…

It's like a curse. It seems I can never stay with a person for very long without them dying or leaving. I actually thought things would be good with Hannah, but what can I expect? Living this life, not everything can go as you want them to. If I wanted to, I could let Hannah live. I could keep being with her and pretend I didn't know anything, but it would be at the expense of the one person that is most important to me. Letting Hannah be free would cost my sister her life, and that's not something I could live with. And if that happened, I'd end up killing Hannah anyway. It would be a double lose situation. Furthermore, it's clear to me who is more important of Debra and Hannah. I guess it's always been clear.

Dexter sat on the little table across from the table Hannah lay on. She was, as one would assume, covered in plastic wrap with no clothes underneath. Dexter was idly twisting a knife around in his hands, his eyes closed. He was deep in thought.

He heard a low groan from the table opposed to him, and he opened his eyes slowly. His breathing was somewhat fast-paced, but he seemed calm. When Hannah opened her eyes, she looked confused at first. "Dexter.." She uttered, and then realization hit her. "Dexter, why are you.." She swallowed, tears starting to well up in her eyes. It was just like the first time he'd put her on the table, but she didn't understand why he'd do it again.

"You're awake." Dexter sighed reluctantly, standing up from the little table he'd sat on. He put the knife down by his other tools and brought out the scalpel, slowly approaching Hannah. She winced a little when he cut her cheek and sampled her blood for a glass tile.
"I usually don't do this anymore, but I need this as proof." He said with a low voice, practically empty of all emotion.

"Why are you doing this?" Hannah asked, her eyes red and sad.

"For the safety of my sister." Dexter breathed, and an almost sad tone was in his voice as he put the glass tile down in his tool bag. He brought out a medium large knife, sizing it up with his eyes. "As long as you're free, she's not safe."

"Dexter, what are you saying?" Hannah uttered, her mind filled with fear, disappointment and sadness.

"The water in Debra's car.. it was 40% anxiety drugs." He moved so that he stood behind her, glancing down at her face.

"Are you saying you think I had something to do with it?"

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" He muttered. "It's too late to turn back from this. You need to be put down." He said in a whispering manner, sitting down on his knees. He placed his forehead against hers, in the exact same way he had done with his brother Brian when he slit his throat.

"I love you, Dexter." Hannah cried, the tears flowing down her face, mixing with the blood on her cheek. "You don't need to do this. We can-"

Her voice caught as a choking sound emitted from her throat, the sound of metal piercing flesh ringing in Dexter's ears. He hurriedly let go of the knife, letting it stay in her chest. He kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the life fade out of her eyes.

And just like that I'm back at square one. It'll always be like this. I just have to see it coming from now on. But I still have Debra, and I have to make sure I always do. Or else this would have been for naught.

Debra closed the door with her one good hand, turning on the lights in her home. She'd just been released from the hospital, and Batista had offered to drive her home after he finished work. She'd normally have Dexter pick her up, but he was busy. Probably with Hannah, she thought spitefully.

Debra had hurriedly come to the conclusion that Hannah had sedated her, but it didn't seem Dexter believed her. What else was there to think? That she'd been stupid enough to poison herself somehow? Either Dexter had a really good argument against it, or he was just completely blinded by his feelings for Hannah. Debra could understand that. She was just like that with Dexter.

She sighed heavily, cussing to herself as she walked over to the fridge. She got out one beer and managed to open it with one hand. She slumped down on the couch, leaning her back against the cushions in the corner of the sofa. She pulled her legs up on the couch and turned on the TV with her remote control, just scrolling through channels.

She stopped at some random action move which she honestly usually found too cheesy, but she felt like watching something distracting for once. It was all so unrealistic in those movies. The good guy beat the living crap out of the bad guys, and then he gets the girl who is some drop dead beauty who only dates heroes or something like that. It was stupid, but the thought of it was nice, in a way.

And of course, this movie ended in the same way. The main character got rid of his girlfriend who had turned out to actually just be spying on him, and he got together with the good girl. No surprise, obviously, and Debra found herself wanting something like that happen to her too. That was a silly thought.

3 beers and one movie after, Debra heard a knock at the door. "Let yourself in." She grumbled, and someone grabbed the door handle, but it didn't open.

"Uh.. it's locked." The voice called from outside. Debra remembered now, she'd locked the door because of Hannah. She was actually a little on edge at the moment.

"Be there in a sec," Debra sighed, placing the empty beer bottle next to the two others. She stood up and walked over to the door. She unlocked it with her good hand, turning around to sit back in the couch before the door even had time to be opened.

"Uh.. hi." Dexter uttered with a low voice as he closed the door behind him, seeing Debra on the couch.

"Lock the door." She mumbled, and Dexter did as told. He made his way over to the couch and sat down on the other side, looking at the TV in silence for a little while. He turned his gaze to the table and saw the beers, looking over at Debra.

"Want another?" He asked, and she nodded silently, her lips pursed. He stood up and got two beers from the fridge. He opened them both and gave one to Debra before sitting back down. She'd already had three, but Dexter knew that she could hold her liquor.

"What are you doing here?" Debra finally asked. "It's fucking late night on Christmas eve, aren't you supposed to be with your girlfriend?" She asked. She didn't really want to sound rude, but she couldn't help it.

"Something.. came up." Dexter replied monotonously, looking forward at the TV, not really having any idea what was going on in the movie that was on.

"Something came up? What, Hannah tried to poison you?" She spat, frowning. Her one good hand balled its fist in her lap.

""N-no.. Deb, I'm.." He stuttered, trying to come up with something to say. "I have something.. for you." He said, turning his head to look at her.

"Well, I hope it's a new fucking car." Debra huffed, not able to surprise the tiny grin. Dexter put his hand in his pocket and pulled something out, keeping it tight inside his palm.
"That's either a car key, or you've bought me a crappy and tiny gift." She said, her voice lightening a little. Thinking that Dexter at least came to visit her made her glad.

"Hold out your hand." Dexter whispered, and he looked sad. Debra tilted her head when she saw Dexter's expression. She hesitantly held out her hand, and Dexter placed his palm on top of hers. He dropped the slide in her hand, but he didn't remove his hand at first. He let it cover the tile.

".. 's cold.." Debra whispered, her voice catching a little. Dexter nodded with pursed lips and removed his hand slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Debra's face as she looked down at her hand. "Dexter, what is.. why the fuck would you.." She gulped, not really sure what she should think. Her lips started shaking as she looked up at Dexter. "W-Who is this?" She whispered, and Dexter gritted his teeth a little, stiffening his shoulders unintentionally.

"That's.. Hannah Mckay." He said with a monotone voice, an almost painful look on his face. Just as he said it, a sharp breath escaped Debra's mouth.

"What the fuck, Dex?" She uttered, her voice shaking – a lot. "Did you.. kill her?" She asked, though she already knew the answer. Dexter didn't move.

"She was a danger to you.." Dexter breathed, looking at Debra. But his eyes were empty, as if he was looking at something else.

"Dexter, you didn't even have any proof.. did you go on my word alone?" Debra gulped, and Dexter shook his head slowly, and his presence returned – he was looking into Debra's eyes now, properly.

"The water bottle in your car.. I had it tested. The pills you're on were dissolved into the water."

"I.. Jesus fuck." Debra stuttered, narrowing her eyes a little. "Dexter, you killed Hannah for my sake? Why would you-"

"It's not the first time, you know." He said, a shaking in his voice. "I did the same with my brother.. Brian Moser. I got rid of him to make sure you were safe."

"You killed Rudy..?" She asked, her eyes a little wide. "I mean.. it makes sense, but.. did you know who he was? Did he know?"

"He knew all the time. I found out after a while." Dexter sighed under his breath. "All his kills were set up to give me hints. It was all a show for me."

"Jesus fuck, Dexter. You killed your own brother for my sake?" She swallowed, straightening her back a little where she sat.

"And I would have done it again. No matter how my feelings are for another person, I always have to prioritize you. Without you, I'd just.. crash and burn." Dexter uttered, almost whispering as he looked at Debra.

"How can I possibly be that important to you?" She huffed, her mouth hanging slightly agape, questioningly.

"Because you're my sister, Deb. I might not show it that often, but you're the most important piece in my life."

"Except from the killing." Debra added, a hissing sarcasm in her tone.

"You don't understand. It's like the killing fills a tiny void that's inside my body. The rest of it would be completely empty if it wasn't for you. Without you I'm nothing but an empty shell. Or at least that's what it feels like." He mumbled.

"Even after I told you.. that?" Debra swallowed, lowering her head a little with her eyes still fixed on his.

"Maybe even more after that." He replied shortly. "What you said opened up my mind a little, and I can understand why you would feel something like that."

"Most people would say it's disgusting." Debra scoffed, crossing her arms – trying to cross her arms but failing miserably after remembering she only had one functioning hand at the moment.

"Deb, I'm a serial killer. I can't say that anything is wrong or disgusting, because my entire existence is wrong."

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's true. If anyone were to know about the real me, they wouldn't exactly look at me and say 'That man right there is a successful person'. They'd think it was horrible that I was even born." He sputtered, shaking his head in dismay.

"I don't." Debra muttered in response, looking at her brother with a sad expression on her face. "I never will. Dexter, I will always accept you."

"Deb.." He whispered softly.

"That's what family is for, right? Being able to deal with each other's shit no matter how bad it is?" Her lips trembled.

"That would be true if every family wasn't as messed up as ours. Or as me, at least."

"All the more reason to take care of each other, right? You've kept up with my shit all this time." Debra grinned weakly, and Dexter couldn't help but to smile a little himself.

"Your 'shit' is pretty normal to me. I like dealing with your shit." He chuckled. "It makes me feel at ease whenever I'm not.. you know."

"Yeah." Debra giggled, brushing some hair away from her face, sliding it behind her ear. "You've been dealing with it more than you think, too. When we were kids, I would –"

" – you would sneak into my room and crawl up besides my bed." Dexter finished for her, a more light tone to his voice now. His mind felt a little clearer, even though he had just killed his potential future. At least he had Debra.

"Fuck, you knew about that?" Debra uttered, looking a bit flustered and embarrassed all of a sudden. "How did you know?"

"First of all, you should remember that I'm like a predator in more ways than just one. My senses are quite heightened, you know. Furthermore, being able to fall asleep at night is not an easy thing for a person who's constantly wondering why he's even alive. I was pretty much an insomniac for a while." He replied to her, a tiny grin playing at the corner of his lips.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She murmured, and a slight tint of red had been able to seep through the tan colours of her face and ever so slightly taint her cheeks with a blush.

"You seemed so peaceful." Dexter uttered, and suddenly he seemed nostalgic. "I remember the first times I noticed you coming in. I thought it was weird. I was starting to wonder if you were sleepwalking or something." His eyes faltered a bit as he recalled what he had felt back then. "But then you started coming in once in a while, and I could sense that you were.. unnerved."

"Nightmares." She replied, and her voice sounded a bit groggy as a lump had formed in her throat. "I was scared, so I went to sleep in the same room as my to-become-a-serial-killer brother. Talk about fucked up." She laughed, pulling her knees under herself so that she sat on her legs.

"You had no way of knowing. I guess I must have been good at faking emotion back then too." He breathed, his voice a bit croaky. "I think it was.. yes, I think it was the fourth time you came into my room at night. I just lay there, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing and I felt.. okay."

"What do you mean, 'okay'?" Debra asked, sounding almost a little confused.

"I mean, I felt okay. I felt okay, and for a moment I looked brightly on my future because I pictured you there. I thought that as long as I had my sister, I would be able to live a life that was, in its own way, worth living."

"And that's why you'd go to such lengths to keep me safe." Debra nearly whispered.

"Because no matter who I get to be with, it's not worth it if you're not there. I keep noticing that Harry tells me to be more considerate about you, and he gets mad, and I never really realized it was me who was mad at myself for not taking care of you enough."

"Harry?" She asked him, narrowing her eyes a bit. "Who the fuck's that? And what do you mean it was 'really just yourself'?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you that bit." Dexter huffed. "You've probably heard of people who have a walking consciousness. I have one too, and it's Harry. He keeps telling me what to do, while in reality it's just my own suppressed thoughts."

"Well, that does sound like Harry." Debra muttered, not even a bit surprised by what Dexter had told her. He was a serial killer, and that which went on his head was no longer surprising to her.

…

She had finally been able to make it into homicide. It was a big change for her, and it was something she'd always wanted. She was looking forward to investigating, catching killers, but more than anything else; she looked forward to finally being able to work together with her brother. They'd be like a special team, 'Brother and sister catch killer together!'. It was a childish thought, but she liked it nonetheless.

In the beginning, she was given a lot of shitty jobs. It didn't exactly seem like LaGuerta liked Debra all that much, but she didn't really care. She was in homicide. So, to begin with, she often had to sit in the office until late hours to watch through security tapes. She often looked at Dexter as he left work with his little briefcase in hand. He sometimes seemed so awkward in his posture, while other times he would have this extremely determined expression on his face.

She remembered, especially, that one time. She'd been in homicide for a couple of months, and she'd worked a bit together with Dexter, and again she was on late duty. She heard a click and saw the door to Dexter's office open. He carried his briefcase this time too, and she met his eyes as he turned around in the elevator. Instead of his usual composure where he'd check his watch, whistle a little to himself and wave at Debra before he left, there was this look on his face.

Just looking at his face had gotten her heart stuck in her throat. He was completely still. His facial futures practically didn't move at all. His eyes flickered to hers one time, but it didn't seem like he acknowledged her presence. In his eyes was the look of anticipation. He looked so ready, so animalistic, so.. brutal. Debra had tried to imagine why he suddenly looked like that, but she couldn't think of anything. It was a completely different Dexter.

After that, she'd seen that several times over the years. She was often working overtime, and so was Dexter. Again and again, he would leave the police station a little earlier than Debra would. At times he would nod at her and give her a slightly awkward wave, and then he'd check his watch. Other times, he would have that look again. Debra reacted to it every time.

Somehow, it felt as if his gaze was sometimes more intense than other times. He looked like a predator, and several times he'd left Debra with red cheeks and damp underwear. I'm just lonely, Debra had thought every time. The only reason it happened when Dexter left was that she was left all to herself, with the chance to think of how long it was since she'd been with someone. It had nothing to do with Dexter, she told herself, and she believed it.

…

"It's late," Debra stated, nodding her head towards Dexter with a worried expression. "You must be tired." 'Broken', she thought.

"I guess." Dexter replied, blinking once with his eyes before flickering them over to Debra. "I'll be heading back, then."

"No." Debra denied him instantly. "I won't let you be alone tonight. I need my safe place. So do you."

"Deb, I-"

"No. You go sleep in my bed, I'll crash on the couch." She said determinately, glaring daggers at him as if to intimidate him.

"F-Fine," Dexter gulped, grinning nervously. "Thanks."

…

"I promise you, you'll enjoy this." He smirked, and Debra smiled weakly at him. He slowly pulled her shirt over her head and left a kiss on her neck, and she gasped a little. The man with the dark, curly hair bit down on the place between her neck and shoulder, gently and teasingly.

"Dexter," Debra panted with closed eyes, biting down on her lower lip.

"Little brother's not here." The voice replied. Little brother? But Dexter was her older brother. Oh, god. She shot her eyes open and gasped in horror.

"Rudy?!" She exclaimed, and Brian Moser grinned down at her. He had a pen in his hand, and as Debra looked down at her naked body she could see that he had marked lines on her joints.

"It's Christmas," he smiled. "I'm preparing a gift for my little brother."
Debra started breathing frantically, trying to move. But she couldn't.

"It's going to be ok." A calm voice said besides her, and she turned around. There was a grown man, almost old, smiling down at her.

"Lundy.." She whispered, and he smiled.

"It's all going to be okay, Debra." He said, and then blood started spilling out of his stomach, staining his shirt. "Once this is over, we'll be together. You can join me on the other side."

Debra sat up on the couch, sweat running down her neck. The tank top she used for sleep was ragged, and one hinge had slipped over her shoulder. She sat there for a while, gasping loudly, trying her best to calm her breath. And then the tears came. She managed not to sob loudly, but the tears still came, and she stood up from the couch.

She silently shuffled her bare feet across the floor, carefully pushing the door to her room open. She could hear Dexter's breathing now. It was so silent, compared to most other men. He didn't snore like most people, he just breathed calmly. She stepped in and closed the door as quietly as she could, turning her head to check that Dexter hadn't woken up. It was dark, and she could barely see his silhouette on the bed.

She got down on all fours like a little child, and crawled over to the side of his bed. She lied down on her side on the floor, practically in a fetal position. She just lay there for a while, listening to Dexter's breath, and once again she felt safe. Still broken, but safe. She felt startled when she heard Dexter shift on the bed, but it didn't sound like he'd woken up. She kept her eyes closed, and Dexter was silent once again.

What Debra still hadn't gotten used to was how silent Dexter could be. She didn't notice that he'd placed his feet on the floor. She gasped when she felt one hand under her back, and one under her knees. Dexter lifted her up into his arms and carefully placed her down on the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. He turned, and then a voice whispered "Stay," and he did. He lied down on the other side of the bed, and before he had time to settle down he could feel a hand clutching to his arm. He turned on his side to look at his sister, and she pulled herself closer to him, and then she let go.

She let go off everything except her tight grip on her brother's arm. She silently sobbed into his chest, and he carefully stroked his hand through her hair. She'd seen through him, and now he'd seen through her. Their shields were down. They say that you don't know really know a person before you've seen through their cracks, and their true self seeps through those cracks.

But Debra was more than just cracking up. In that moment, in her brother's arms, she shattered. Her walls fell and behind them was the true Debra Morgan, and Dexter could see her for all she was and he held onto her as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did.

And none of them let go before Debra's tears were dried out, and they had fallen asleep in each other's arms.