Title: Following Dexter
Author: Pippychick
Fandom: Dexter/The Following
Rating: M (for probably violence and dark themes)
Warnings: Possible violence if I continue. Dark themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or their universe. They exist thanks to their wonderful writers and creators Jeff Lindsay (Dexter) and Kevin Williamson (The Following). I make no money from this and write out of a sincere love for your style and creations – please don't sue me.
Summary: I'm just curious. Dexter vs Joe Carroll – who'll win?
Author's Notes: I know I have other fics to finish, I know. Just, please let me have this one while I'm writing anything at all.
Following Dexter
Poe understood the Dark Passenger. I had never been much of a literary student – average in all things, including school. Just good enough at the sciences to attain a distinct degree or two for my work as a blood spatter analyst.
Yes, our Edgar understood all right: all that tap tap tapping, and rap rap rapping. The insistent knock of the Dark Passenger from his place at the back of the taxi was clearly in the man's mind. It's the staccato pecking on the window between the dark soul and the driver. Not to mention that it makes sense the Dark Passenger would be a carrion bird.
For a longish moment, it crossed my mind to wonder about him. Had he known the thrill of following those deep directions down side alleys to their inevitable lethal end? Deliberating Dexter wanted to know, until he closed the book.
I put the book down, and deliberated some more. As an aid to my usual research it was strange to be sure – but fitting. My latest project had some kind of affinity with this work, an affinity I now understood.
My prey had got me caught up in Miami. A body here, a body there, messy, sloppy kills, so random and nothing to connect them except for Detective Dexter and his brilliant insight, which meant that I sensed those like myself almost as if inspired. And inspiration seemed to be the theme of this hunt.
I came upon the literary connection almost by accident. After stalking my victim for a short while, it turned out he had a predilection for bookshops large and small, and always strayed to the classic horror section.
Imagine my surprise when I was almost ready to introduce my newest friend to the very thing he liked to read about, only to find that he had disappeared. It didn't take long for me to track him, of course, but his sudden departure was unsettling. Had he sensed me, the same way I had originally sensed him? Of course I had followed. Did you really need to ask? I took some leave and winged my own way northwards.
The book slid into my simple bag easily as I watched from my own shadowy corner of the hotel bar, waiting to see if I was sensed, or if it was my own overactive imagination. He was at the bar, drinking, and his eyes occasionally skittered around, alighting nowhere, and not on our own Disguised Dexter with his glass of sparkling water.
Whatever had spooked him, it hadn't been me, and I had been here for two days now, watching his movements. It was almost time, and my plans for him began to set like a jelly. Very soon, unless there were any other sudden movements, they would be inevitable. On the outskirts of the city I had found an abandoned cemetery with a crypt inscribed with Poe's words. I thought it was a very fitting kill room, and who would notice or question a freshly dug grave beneath the elms?
What happened next was not sudden, but it was intriguing. The next morning my prey visited a prison. I sincerely hoped it wasn't to hand himself in. All I could do was sit outside in my hired car, looking through the gates like a child staring into a sweet shop window, imagining all the goodies that were stored inside, safe from Dutiful Dexter's careful hands… for now. The Dark Passenger gibbered, and I let him, soon we would feast. My new playmate was walking back out to his car, and as he slid into the seat, my own fingers absently turned the ignition to follow. We would get to know each other… tonight.
To be continued...
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