Title: The Perfect Man

Author: hopefulwriter27

Rating: hard R

Pairing: Dean/Sam, Dean/John, Dean/Dexter, Dean/OMCs

Summary: Dad is dead. Dean is pretty sure of this fact. He's been gone three weeks without any word or sign of his whereabouts. Three weeks is a long time spent without his boys, and Dean knows that his dad would miss him too much to be gone that long. Dad always said he missed Dean when he left for a hunt. (2000 words)

Author's Notes: This is a crossover with the Showtime show Dexter.

Warning: evil!Dean, evil!Sam, underage sex, violence, darkness galore

Dad is dead. Dean is pretty sure of this fact. He's been gone three weeks without any word or sign of his whereabouts. Three weeks is a long time spent without his boys, and Dean knows that Dad would miss him too much to be gone for that long. Dad always says he misses Dean when he goes on a hunt. He misses the way Dean swallows, unless of course Dad tells him otherwise. Dad tells Dean that he misses the way Dean says, "Yes sir," and never, "No." Dad can't spend three weeks with Dean. Dean knows that for a fact.

Dean misses him at first. He misses the way Dad's large hands would curve around the back of his head, holding him tight while he fucks Dean's mouth. Dean misses his father's detailed instructions on how to kill. Dean misses hunting with his father. However, Dean has eleven-year old Sammy to worry about, so he doesn't focus too much on missing Dad.

At first Sammy asks, "Where's Daddy?" but then, after the first week, Sammy just doesn't care. Dean knows Sammy likes him best. He is okay with that. He likes Sammy best too. When the fourth week comes and goes, Sammy kicks at the snow and says, "Stupid cold. I wish it was always warm." So Dean takes his fake ID, packs up their belongings in the Impala, and drives fourteen hundred miles south from Buffalo, New York, to Miami, Florida. Permanent summer sounds great.

He gets pulled over once. He is going ninety-three down Interstate 95, through the city of Titusville, Flordia when the blue and red lights flash in his rearview mirror. With the window down he can smell the salt of the ocean. It reminds him of other things and makes his mouth water. So when the officer asks for a license and registration, Dean hands him the fake documents then proceeds to wrap his mouth around the man's cock and suck for all he is worth. He kindly zips the man back up. He also remembers every detail of Office Bartman's face. The thick red hair and chocolate eyes. The fifteen freckles across his nose. Later on, once Sammy is settled into school again, Dean plans on paying the noble officer a visit with his Browning nine millimeter hand gun. He can already picture all the beautiful blood and guts.

Dean searches for the best school district in Miami. He wants Sammy to have the best. He settles them into an empty apartment and registers Sammy for the spring semester into the Dade School District. He walks Sammy to school every morning and home every afternoon. Sometimes he will stop at the park and push Sammy on the swings. On the weekends they both swim in the apartment complex pool. Both of them love the warm weather.

During the day Dean fucks. Nameless tricks give him money for quick blowjobs and even more money for a chance at his ass. Dean happily takes their money then commits their faces to memory. Once he finds what he's looking for he plans to do beautiful things to those men. He searches high and low. He begins with locals. Brown haired, bleached blondes, fake purples- he looks for the perfect person. Sammy asks, "What are you looking for?"

It's hard for Dean to describe. "Someone to show me the way. Someone who loves me and I love them. Someone strong and sexy and right."

Dean knows he hasn't explained it right and Sam bites on his lower lip and demands, "What's wrong with me?"

Dean sighs. "Nothing is wrong with you. You're perfect." He means it. He reaches out and cuddles his brother close. Sammy's hair smells like apple shampoo and salt. Dean thinks he would be happy to smell that forever. "You're just not old enough yet." Sammy doesn't like that answer and he scrunches up his nose to protest. "When you're older. I promise." Sammy nods and goes to the kitchen table to finish his homework.

Dean continues to look. He's finds a few promising candidates. One is a bulky Cuban man in his late forties. He's got thick black hair and beautifully smooth skin. Dean follows him for two weeks and sees him murder four people. But one night he gets into a fight with another Cuban man, gets punched in the face, and he spends the rest of the night bitching about it to someone on the phone. Dean immediately crosses the man off his list. He doesn't like whiners.

Another promising candidate is a man named Henry Miller. He's got a plain name, but there is nothing plain about him. A towering six-foot four and muscled like a bear, Dean's mouth waters at the sight of him. A snake tattoo crawls up Henry's left arm and a giant spider bulges out on his left bicep. At night, after Sammy's gone to bed, Dean spends hours reading his police file. Arson, manslaughter, armed robbery are all descriptively detailed in a book of felonies and misdemeanors. Dean falls back onto his pillow, wrapping a hand around himself thinking about warm blood and Henry Miller's spider tattoo. Then Henry is caught with his hands around a woman's throat with two dead men around him, one of whom is a cop. He is shot three times by the responding officers. Dean mourns his lost by eating Jack-in-the-Box for a week, but then Sammy says, "He was stupid to get caught so many times," and Dean revels in his brother's intelligence.

Four months go by since they've moved to Miami, and Dean starts to feel depressed with his failures. Sex is starting to lose its appeal. He wants something meaningful, not just random fucks in alleyways. One day, after he spent the morning helping Sammy study for a spelling test, he finds himself leaning against a brick wall with fat Joe sliding in and out of him. Joe is huffing and puffing behind him and Dean just feels bored. Joe finishes with a shuddered groan. Dean turns around and looks into Joe's dark black face. Everything condenses- Dean's loneliness since Dad died, his stressful search for the perfect man, his boredom- and he lashes out. Before Joe has the chance to look surprised Dean has kicked him in the knee hard enough to fell. The silent slide of his lockback knife flipping open is blessedly comforting, but it's nothing compared to the rush of pleasure he gets from slicing the blade through Joe's thick throat.

Hot, red blood gurgles out, splashing over Dean's hand and shirt. A bit even gets on his face. Joe's fingers shoot to his neck, but there's nothing the man can do. Dean knows where and how hard to slice. The man falls over onto the dirty street, and Dean watches in awe as blood pools outwards. Bigger and bigger the bloodstain becomes. Dean wishes Sammy was here to witness how the beautiful red color covers the filth of ground. Dean stands there until his alarm watch beeps reminding him to go home and get ready to pick up Sammy.

Later on, after he excitedly tells Sammy all about it over macaroni and cheese, Dean takes his brother back to the scene. Dean figures that Joe won't still be there, but he can at least show Sammy the bloodstain. Sammy clenches Dean's hand the whole way and keeps shooting his brother these happy little grins. However, when they get to the spot, police are everywhere. Yellow caution takes marks off the scene while uniforms and detectives meander around searching for clues.

Sammy shoots him a worried glance when they are stopped by an officer and forced to turn around. Dean mouths, "don't worry" to his little brother. He's always been careful to destroy any evidence of his inclusion. He wears gloves, carries alcohol wipes, and searches for hair when he's finished. Even so, Dean suspects that this alleyway is so full of fingerprints, DNA, and other information from the hundreds of boys and men who frequent it, that the police won't be able to tell tit from tat. It's one of the reasons Dean chose this alleyway.

He and Sammy walk across the street and stand in front of a twenty-four hour convenience store. A red neon 'Open' sign shines over Sammy's head, casting a shadow of pink across the boy's face. Dean thinks it makes Sammy look handsome. They watch, along with dozens of others, as at the police work. Four squad cars and three non marked cars block most of the action, but the boys can still pick up the buzz of excitement from where they stand. Conversation flows around them, but they just watch, content. Finally, they bring the body out. Dean is disappointed that Joe is hidden within a body bag, but he nudges Sammy anyways when they slide the bag into the ambulance. A proud smile is sent his way. Dean can't help but puff out his chest.

Then Dean spots him. He's got golden brown hair that curls just above his ears. A handsome face matches a well toned body and a healthy sheen. These things are nice, but they aren't what really capture Dean's attention. No, it's the dark blood over white gloves snapped tight around the man's hands and the thrilled smirk on his face that entrap the eldest Winchester. A police ID hangs on lanyard over the man's neck. Despite the obvious appeared of 'good guy'- clean-cut clothes, law force job, pleasant demeanor- Dean can recognize a predator anywhere. In just a glimpse, Dean knows this man is dangerous and powerful. His heart begins to beat double-time and a drop of sweat slides down his forehead.

A yank pulls his attention away from the man, and Dean looks over at his brother. Sammy's eyes flicker between Dean and the stranger. He says, "His name is Dexter Morgan."

Dean wipes the sweat away with the back of his free hand, the other still entwined with Sammy's, and asks, "How do you know?"

Sammy looks back to Dexter Morgan and replies, "I dreamed about him."

Dean swallows then nods. Sometimes Sammy dreams. "What did you dream about him?" Dean feels nervous like the first time Dad threaded his fingers through Dean's hair and made Dean lick him.

"He's the right one." Happy energy jumps through Dean's veins, and he can't help but take a step forward. Sammy, rightfully, pulls him back.

"You won't forget me right?"

Dean swivels around, mouth open. "What! Of course not!" He drops to his knees so he can look Sammy in the eyes. He's chewing on his lips and Dean runs a thumb down Sammy's jaw. "Sammy, I'll never-ever, forget you. Dexter Morgan, well, he's a now thing. He'll teach me what I need. He'll keep me occupied until you're old enough." He pulls Sammy to his shoulder and wraps his arms around Sammy's torso. "Just think of what we'll do together in the future. We'll make the world beautifully red. People will know our names. We're each other's forevers."

Sammy leans back and Dean can see tears glistening in his eyes. "Yeah," he sniffs.

Dean ruffles his hair. "Yeah" He stands back up and takes Sammy's hand again. They both watch as Dexter Morgan talks to a Hispanic woman. Dean wants to run over and take his bloody fingers into his mouth. He wants to kiss Dexter's lips and suck at his neck. He wants hunt and slice and kill.

"Come on," he says to his brother, "let's go home and you can help me learn all about Dexter Morgan."