The real end chapters 1 AND 2 3

by christine.hovi

I hated the end of the Story , so i rewrote it , am in the process of rewriting it , Deb didnt die 3

Title: the real end
Category: TV Shows » Dexter
Author:
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M
Genre: Mystery/Romance
Published: 10-22-13, Updated: 10-22-13
Chapters: 1, Words: 8,111

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Part 1: Signs of life

This is Fan Fiction based on Showtimes Hit TV show called " Dexter" I don't own any right to anything , these are all their copyrighted characters. I'm just borrowing them for the purpose of this fanfic :)

PROLOGUE:

In the aftermath of Hurricane Laura the ocean waters receded and the winds died down and a new day dawned over Miami. It was a calm beautiful day belying the devastation that stretched across the entire Metro area. Trees down, limbs all over the place, the storm had dumped sand miles inland and entire neighborhoods had been flattened and some seemed just gone. Miami's citizens being mostly veteran storm survivors breathed a sigh of relief to have survived the disaster and life swiftly began to settle back into its normal day to day routines.

For some however life would never again be what it was before the storm, among the dead were two of Miami Metros own. The homicide division took the hit losing both their beloved Lt. Debra Morgan and her brilliant forensic tech brother Dexter. It was a dual blow to a department still reeling from the loss of 3 other officers over the last 6 years, Sgt Doakes, Cpt Laguerta and Mike Anderson. Most people didn't count Doakes as a fallen officer but rather assumed he was indeed the Bay Harbor Butcher, something Cpt Laguerta swore to her death was just not possible. After the clean up was finished and time had created a barrier between the events of Hurricane Laura and everyone's day to day lives, a memorial was planned and erected for the fallen brother sister team.

Lt . Angel Baptista found every excuse to avoid the entire area , it really was a tragic place in his view since it was a Memorial dedicated entirely to people he had known and loved. His now deceased ex wife Cpt Laguertas memorial was after all in the same park. What had started as a single snow white bench in memorial of Laguerta had morphed into a full park , complete with a white marble 3 tier fountain which really could blind you at noon under Miami's relentless sun. The Park included a beautiful bronze Statue as well, it was cast to be an officer wearing the old style uniform with two small children standing leaned into him. If you were really observant or just took the time to look closely you would notice the little girl was holding a Detectives Shield in her hand , and the little boy seemed to have a laminate badge around his neck. The bronze had been commissioned by the Deputy Chief Mathews based on a picture of Harry with Dex and Deb when they were little still. To those in the know it was clear who these people were. To everyone else it was simply a beautiful reminder of the dedication of officers to the safety of the general public.

The plinking sounds of the Fountains falling water could be very soothing but nothing really was able to stop the ache that stabbed Angel through the heart every time he went to the park. For the first few months after Hrc. Laura , no one had wanted to believe Dexter was dead, or that he had stolen Debs body away somehow. The mystery of the vanished Harrison to the present day bothered Angel, he wasn't a man who liked lose ends and unsolved mysteries which would probably explain why he originally became a Detective. As time shed her comforting blanket over all those involved and the razor sharp edge of pain become a dull ache, people moved on with their lives. Jamie Baptista, Angel's little sister and former nanny to Harrison, completed her degree and became a forensics officer in her own right. How strongly her career choice was influenced by her time as Dexter's nanny was unclear to Angel but he was pretty sure it had a strong impact on her, an impact only deepened by Dexter, Deb and Harrison vanishing into thin air during the storm.

It still seemed odd to him to see Jamie's face peeking out at him from what he would always think of as Dexter's office. Masuka, now lead forensics investigator for Miami Metro Homicide really enjoyed having Jamie on his team, but some days Angel wasn't sure whether or not he was going to have to kill Masuka for never knowing where the line was , the one he wasn't supposed to cross when it came to Angel's baby sister . For instance at the last Christmas Party Masuka felt it was appropriate to gift her with a gift card to one of the dingy bondage stores over in little Havana. Of course he quickly changed his mind after one swift glance at Angles look which was a cross between biting into a lime and stubbing your toe, and gave her the Victoria Secret one he had for the filing clerk instead. Overall life had gone on for the officers of Miami Metros Homicide division,but the Morgans would never be forgotten.

Part 1. Metro Miami Area

As the sun set over the city, and the oppressive heat eased somewhere back into the realm of tolerable, the nocturnal denizens of the area came out to play. The crowds changed in dynamic from well dressed business people and tourists to the less well dressed druggies , hookers and other assorted riff raff stumbling out of whatever dens they had spent the day hiding in. They mixed in with the now sunburned tourists who seemed to believe they were immortal because they were on vacation. The sounds of traffic, the blaring of horns, the tires hissing along the superheated asphalt gave way to a gentler level of noise, broken periodically by screaming car alarms and sirens. A faint neon glow became part of the ambient lighting and bar music began to spill into the street through the open doors of the Miami nightclubs all hoping to draw tourists dollars into their smoky air conditioned depths.

Among the clueless tourists and the local people on the streets, a predator prowls, seeking it's target, stalking it's hunting area. This is no normal predator, this one looks like it belongs here in the hot night of Miami, it seems at home in the streets, nothing to indicate it doesn't belong or has motives other than getting wasted enough to forget the pain that life brings. The predator theoretically agrees with the idea of numbing oneself into forgetful oblivion but that is not its path this night.

Tonight it is determined to finally after so long bring its plan into play. One grand masterpiece orchestrated to end in a glorious never ending oblivion for the predator itself. It needs the perfect opening act, it already knows where, when and how, the only missing piece of it's puzzle is who. Who will be the first to meet the code? It was sure as the night wore on many contestants would come forward for the honor.

Frankly the predator didn't really care which one won, it would depend more on the timing and required cover to snatch them. It would have to be a male. It would need to be someone evil. Which wouldn't be hard to find on the midnight streets of Miami either. Unhurried the Predator continues its nighttime stroll, if it has no luck tonight it will just be back tomorrow and every night till it finds what it is looking for.

Morgan Park Miami FL

The crime scene was truly horrific. Angel had to take a moment when he arrived at Morgan Memorial Park to take in the tableau. The fountain was now running solid red with blood, and the body pieces were laid out in chunks, spread out , some in each tier. The head was in the very top tier, making it just above eye level for Angel. The water displacement from the dismembered body caused red rivers to spill over the edge of the fountain, painting the white marble with bloody candy cane stripes. A singe red rose lay in the center of one of the little rivulets. Masuka and Jamie where already on scene with their kits, taking samples and trying to find evidence. For a split second Angel had the impulse to call Dexter so he could figure out the story the blood was telling them, then he remembered he had lost that tool long ago. 5 years later these moments had become rare but every once in a while it snuck up on him and pounced, as this was the Morgan Siblings Memorial he wasn't sure how he had forgotten it for even that brief moment.
" What do we have Masuka?" Angel asked.
" Male, looks to have been mid 30's, seems to be all here . Sure seems to have gone to pieces over something, wont know for sure till we let the ME work him, but im pretty sure its gonna be homicide, by this stab wound here in the chest piece I'm going to say that the cause of death was stabbing with some sharp instrument, probably a knife of some sort. Looks like one swift stroke , no hesitation " Masuka replied while bagging another piece of John Doe. His work was as methodical as always gathering, tagging and notating all the scattered pieces of others inner darkness.
" Hey guys look at this" Jamie exclaimed from the other side of the fountain " I think you should come see this boss". As Angel and Masuka rounded the fountain it became clear what had caught Jamie's eye , written in what looked to be blood was a message " THE CODE LIVES". Grabbing a swab out of his kit Masuka rubbed it over a tiny piece of the lettering and tested it to see it if was blood, confirming what all of them already knew.

" Now what in the hell does that mean?" Angel inquired of no one in general.
After a short pause Masuka's reply was thoughtful and hesitant" I'm not sure, but it sure does look like this is the work of a serial killer, the staging, the perfect kill stroke, the lack of evidence we are probably dealing with a pro".with a small sigh he returned to his meticulous gathering of what he already knew would be nothing. "Thanks Masuka, be sure you get that report on my desk by tomorrow morning and lets get some Uni's to canvas this area, I want EVERY door knocked on".
Having issued his orders Angel retreated to his car , he had had enough of this place for one day .What he really needed was a nice shot of tequila, hell he needed 4 or 5 of them. Maybe he could talk Quinn into joining him for a few, two bachelors out for a night on the town. Grabbing his cell phone he punched in Quinns number, and left a message telling him to meet him that night at 10 at the " pink penny lounge", where there was plenty of pink and you better not be bringing pennies.

Forks, Washington

Dexter Morgan opened his eyes to the same dusty room he closed them in, but something felt different in the world, he couldn't quiet put his finger on the feeling but the darkness seemed agitated that morning. He was restless and wasn't able to settle in one place even long enough to brew his first pot of coffee, he found himself wandering aimlessly through his cottage which was really a glorified shack, but it kept him dry and gave him a place to go when his daily work was done. It was sparely furnished with the bare necessities and few luxuries apart from a modern coffee maker and a replacement laptop as his last went down with The Slice of Life.

He wasn't worried about what anyone might think of his home, no one was ever invited over anyways. For 5 years he had been hauling timber with the same crew, and all this time later they knew pretty much nothing about him, which was exactly the way he wanted it. When he had first arrived a lot of the guys had tried to include him in their after work entertainment, but he always declined and gave them the look, after a few months they stopped trying. Everyone knew some men just didn't want to know people , sometimes they showed up in Timber land so damaged and jaded they just wanted to be left alone forever. Correctly they figured Dexter was one of that kind. It suited him just fine that way, he had intentionally come here to the deep woods, to the Mountains for that reason.

If he was being very honest with himself he could admit he had in part been driven by Debs dieing wish to go Hiking in Mountains with him but he was rarely honest with himself the pain just went to deep. Some days he was more haunted than others, but always there was the missing part of himself, the part he left in the ocean when he consigned Deb to its dark embrace. His beloved sister, who in the end was so much more than that , and only in her loss did he realize the truth of how he felt. Too late to tell her or ever do anything about it. In a life filled with loss and blood, hers was the loss he would never recover from, so many bad choices so many missed paths to happiness made even more bitter by his memories of Debs attempts to reach him, to make him see he loved her as well. All for nothing in the end. Pain was all he had left of her and so Pain is what he would hold onto.

Seeing that the level of the coffee in the pot had finally reached the point where he could safely fill a cup, he headed back to his kitchen to sit and read the Miami Times online edition over his morning Joe, a habit carried over from his old life. One of a very select few he had allowed himself. For the first year he had wandered in a fog. One day blending into the next with no discernible line indexing them: eat ,sleep, work and then repeat. Slowly however time wove its separation between present and past and he began in small ways to live again. A sort of peace had finally worked its way in. It was a brutal peace, the silence after an explosion so loud it deafens you.

Every morning he spent a few moments reading the Time's as a way of stabbing a sharpened stake into the wound. A few precious moments where he was alive, the pain overwhelming in waves, crashing down upon him like echos of Debs tears hitting the wooden deck the night she confessed she was in love with him. The silken feeling of her skin as he ran his thumbs over her cheek for the last time, still warm and almost flush, the overwhelming urge to grab her in his arms and kiss her. To awaken her as if he was prince charming and she merely a sleeping beauty. The sight of her sinking slowly deeper into the water, that cruel brief moment of hope when it seemed she was moving on her own , trying to unwind from her white Angelic shroud.

Blinded by tears he had almost joined her there, in her watery grave, but the monster had better self preservation instincts than even Dex could overcome. The grief crushed down upon him, a weight greater than any man no matter how cold could be expected to contain, restricting his ability to breath. Without thought or choice turning the boat , throttle wide open flying screaming into the heart of the storm. Certain that the oblivion he was seeking would find him there in such circumstances even the monster would not be able to win out over the inevitable, suspended in the single moment of her last breath.

Slowly recalling where he was Dex flipped open his now slightly dated and worn laptop. Going to the only web address in the drop down bar, the only place he ever went. "BODY DUMPED IN MEMORIAL PARK" screamed the headline of the day at him. A sick feeling in his stomach Dex began to read the sensationalized front page story, complete with side bar columns of talking heads with their weighted opinions. Scrolling lower in the story he was gut punched by a picture of him and Deb when they were happy. Before she walked into that church, before the drugs and killing, before he broke her.

Briefly stunned it took him a moment to process the fact that the body had been found in Morgan Memorial Park ,as in Debra Morgan and Dexter as well. He checked out the file picture of the fountain the Time's was using, obviously the crime scene was far to grisly for the Front Cover of a paper delivered to homes with children every morning all over Miami.

Scanning the story over and over it started to look like something he didn't even want to think about. It COULDNT be possible, yet it seemed it was. The chopped up pieces, the single kill stroke perfectly severing the artery, the message. Someone was not only copy catting him but that person also KNEW about the Code. The list of those who knew was short and almost all of them were dead. Harry, Vougel, Deb, Brian,Lila, Lumen and Hannah.

So it must be either Lumen or Hannah since all the others were dead, but Dex just couldn't picture either of them doing this. Hannah preferred woman's oldest weapon, poison not slicing and dicing. As for Lumen she was better now healed of her dark passenger, or was she? Dexter decided he would wait and see if this was a one time thing or not, but it wouldn't hurt to do a little research in the meantime.

He wondered if his code had ever been canceled in the system since technically he was presumed dead not terminated. He knew if he had been terminated his codes would have been deleted from the database but often in the event of a death noone informed the system admin and if he hadn't been purged in some system reboot he might still be able to access the NCIS Database. Taking a deep breath he plugged all the correct information into the spots that requested them and died a million times waiting for the processing circle to either let him in or throw him out. "Access approved" flashed across the screen and Dex was in, checking first Hannah and then Lumen. Nothing new on Hannah , everything was 5 years old, that included Interpol. Lumen came up on it as a hit, a hit that cleared her off Dex's suspect list but made him sad, since the one he thought he made better , the one he let go for herself wasn't as better as she thought apparently and was now sitting out a 5 year bid for arson.

Dex made a mental note to maybe write her and see how she was and if he needed to go rescue her from her life when she got out. As the impulse faded he reminded himself that the very best thing he could do for her or anyone was to stay away from them. Slamming his laptop shut, he scooted his chair back and headed out to another day hauling logs around, surrounded by people who had no idea how lucky they were he had given up killing... mostly.

The Plan comes together

North West Miami Florida

Deb blended well in the mixed neighborhoods of NW Miami, she never stayed in one area long, moving before people became attached to seeing her come in and out of whatever rat hole she was crashing in that month. Ever since she had awoke drowning in the ocean wrapped in a white sheet, she had no desire to return to her life before. At first she had no real idea about how she ended up being born new from the ocean fighting for her life. For some reason even then when she wasn't sure who she really was , she never reached out to the cops for help, some voice in her stomach told her that was a really bad idea, and they had to be part of the reason she had a bullet wound in her side and the worlds worst headache when she really came to on the deck of that shrimper.
The time before the decks hard life giving surface below her was a blur consisting of drowning, her father screaming at her to fucking swim already and the damn white sheet that seemed determined to drag her under despite her best attempts to untangle herself. She couldn't be sure but she was thought Harry had unwrapped part of it for her while demanding she LIVE.
Hearing her fathers desperate reassurances that she could swim through the pounding headache and fear that was consuming her Deb had felt an overwhelming need for air. As she finally got free of the sheet she wasn't even sure which way was up and which down till Harry pointed up.
Breaking the surface at last Deb had realized she was going to drown after all. The waves were huge and there was no way she had the energy to stay afloat. Off in the distance she thought she made out a light but it was hard to see in the pounding rain which made it even harder to breath, it seemed the entire world was made of water. Still she had to try,struggling against the cling effect of the wet fabric, she took off her hospital gown which was weighing her down anyways and filled the water saturated fabric with air, causing it to make a large white balloon which was enough to catch the attention of the nearing shrimper.
The small boat should never have noticed her as it was desperately battling the waves itself, trying its best to make it to port before the true eastern wall of the storm hit. The Vietnamese hands pulled her on board soaking wet and naked. Sick, half dead , confused and disoriented she insisted to them there was someone else in the water with her, a man, who needed rescuing. they didnt seem to understand her however which was just as well because just then she saw him standing behind them shaking his head, with his finger over his mouth. To drained to contemplate what that meant Deb passed out gratefully.
She awoke an unknown amount of time later to a grizzled old woman poking something green over the stitched up bullet hole in her side and muttering in what sounded to Deb like Vietnamese profanity." Fuck Balls ouch that hurts" Deb tried to say, but she wasn't sure how clear it sounded. Alerted to Debs awakening by her attempted protest the old woman had reached behind her and then turning handed her a cup that smelled like dirt and leaves and a hint of decay. Once Deb had accepted the cup the woman insisted via motion that she drink it all.
Not really caring much if she lived or died and hoping it was meant to cure her aching head Deb had bottoms upped the cup, gasping as the firey burn of alcohol met her throat that was raw from all the ocean water she had swallowed. A few moments later the room had begun to swim and she had realized whatever was in that cup was a pretty potent opiate. Her last thought before the soothing darkness had reclaimed her was a face, the feeling of a thumb rubbing across her cheek and then a crushing sadness had engulfed her and helped the opiate mix she had just ingested in dragging her under.

Hours must have passed before Deb had really awoken and looked around herself, realizing she was on land in what appeared to be a now deserted the open door she saw the red and purple sky of either a dawn or sunset. Whomever had helped her had vanished, leaving her to live or die as best she could. She was OK with that and grateful to whatever illegals had saved her life and she wished them nothing but the very best.
Getting to her feet, she moved towards the open doorway, and sank into a chair on the cane railed porch of someones abandoned Fishing shack. Sitting outside she had taken stock of her situation and had swiftly realized that while she was once again on land and the storm had seemed to be over, she was still very naked , and shot and she still hadn't been sure how she ended up in that condition. So running off animal instinct alone she had returned to the inside of the shack to see what she could use, and noticed that they had indeed left her a dress, it was ragged and faded till it was nothing more than a pale gray whatever color it had once been, next to it was a pair of leather thong sandals that closely resembled complicated flip flops and best of all a ball cap, perfect for sticking her ocean frizzed hair under.
Dressing herself as best she could while fighting the pain in her side Deb managed to get it all on and had left the shack, surprised to find herself in the metro Miami limits, she had been sure she was somewhere deep in the glades. Stumbling out to the road she had begun walking slowly towards somewhere. She wasn't really sure where exactly that was but she knew she had a place out there somewhere and she hoped muscle memory would guide her home.

Kismet

PART THREE

Northwest Miami, Florida

As Deb had put some distance between herself and the shack she began to remember bits and pieces of the last few days and weeks. She learned all over again her brother was the Bay Harbor Butcher and she loved him and now he was dead and everyone thought she was too. She thought about Quinn and Angel and Masuka as she walked towards her place. Her side was on fire and she was weak as a kitten by the time someone stopped to offer her a ride. Gratefully she accepted the ride and tried to follow along the small talk until they dropped her off in front of her cottage,
She had read the news about herself being dead, Dex being dead and Harrison just gone. She had thought about heading to Argentina to see if Dex was there but she knew he had been on the "Slice Of Life "and she remembered the water and there was just no way he had made it, he was dead. Briefly she even considered getting Harrison from Hannah and having at least that much of him, but she knew what she was and she knew there was no place in her future for a child, any child.

So there she had been breaking into her own beach cottage, gathering some things together before she vanished. She had been glad she had thought ahead and prepared a bolt bag. After walking into that church, watched Dexter stab his knife with one swift stroke into Travis's heart, she had known on some level that all they could do was buy time before it all exploded on them. She had never really vocalized it to Dex but she was sure he had known it as well. Known it for certain when he saw her standing there gun in hand, screaming at him to drop the fucking knife. She should have shot him. Or maybe not , maybe she should have thrown herself at him right then, followed through with the original plan and told him she was in love with him. It didn't matter to her in the end he was a killer, and she should have known it then.

Somehow she had believed it would end differently. She had seen herself and Dexter and Harrison running off into the sunset. Instead it was just her and maybe it had always been just her all along. Seems that was just the hand she had been dealt by fate. Screwed over before she ever knew what life could have been.

She was tired. Tired of pain, tired of losing everyone she loved, just tired of being.

That's the moment when the plan was born. She would go be with Dex and Harry, but first she would for once and all prove she was as good as Dex , Harry WOULD acknowledge it when she saw him on the other side ! She came from a family of monsters and a monster lived within her as well. It was Debs turn to shine dammit!

Abandoned Church, Miami Metro Area

Crossing himself as he entered the abandoned burned out shell of the church Angel had a very sick feeling in the depth of his soul. Deja vu took his breath away. He had seen this very scene before. Except last time it had been charred beyond recognition. This time the plastic was still laid out, the blood oozing across it like cooling lava from a volcano.
The table was in the same place. Body still on it wrapped in plastic and knife still in the wound. This was just how Travis the Dooms Day Killer had supposedly committed suicide when the end of the world happened. Laguerta had never believed it and it looked like she might have been right.

As he waited for the crime scene unit to arrive he had the uniforms guarding the doors and checking the property. He knew it was futile, the Bay Harbor Butcher had been a pro, and whomever was copy catting him was just as good. There really was only one clue to the fact this wasn't the actual butcher.

The single red rose laid across the threshold of the room as you entered the main cathedral. Angel had almost stepped on it without seeing it at first. This was definitely linked to the body in the park, the rose confirmed it. Not that Angel had needed the confirmation.

It should have been impossible, almost everyone who had been involved or suspected in the Bay Harbor Butcher case was dead. So then who was recreating these murders? Then calling them in to the tip line. Who would want to do that? He couldn't wait for Masuka to get there with his kit and start getting him some more much needed information. He had a feeling if he didn't get in front of this the body count was just going to keep climbing.

Forks. Washington

Dexter's routine had changed. Now first thing every morning before coffee, before anything he checked the times. Each day the news was old and boring and he was relieved. As the days turned into a week he had started to relax and breathe easier, maybe it was indeed just a coincidence. Maybe he had read to much into the murder, thrown by its location and link to Deb.

Sighing he dropped into his single chair, opened his laptop and pulled up the Miami times page.
" Red Rose Killer strikes Again"... somewhere in the distance Dexter could almost hear Masuka snickering at such a unimaginative name for a serial killer. Scanning the story he quickly realized this was not a coincidence, the color draining out of his face at the sight of the burned out church. The place his life had begun to end, the place Deb started her slow unraveling that ended in her death. The place he had one last chance to save his sister and didn't take it.

Had anyone been in the room with him and noticed the look on his face, their blood would have turned to ice. Where a few moments previously a tired middle aged man had sat was now something else. This thing was not exactly a man , this was a monster, a dark creature best left unseen and slumbering. Someone stupid had decided to poke it with a stick and now it was awake and angry.
The monster was tired of the life it had been living, it had enough of pain of sorrow of love. Blood is what it wanted and blood it would go get. The time to hide had come and gone. A reckoning season had arrived. Woken from its long slumber the monster was ready to hunt the night for its prey. And hunt it would.

Dexter switched sites to buy an airline ticket. He was going home.

Miami, Florida

Deb was running late, but who cared ? Carlos at the club wouldn't care, she had been top earner plenty of nights in the past month she had worked there. She got hired on with the understanding that sometimes she just had things to do. Hell, who really thought strippers were the dependable sort anyways. Between drugs, guys and drama most missed work one night out of 5 at least and as long as it wasn't a Friday or Saturday Carlos didn't seem to give two fucks. She didn't really like working in the clubs, it was too out in the open, even with the heavy makeup and glitter and exposed breasts someone was bound to notice her one day. But sometimes she needed the money and working the streets was just to low for her, she would starve first dammit!
Every few months she would take a job in one of the dives and earn enough to carry her a while longer, sometimes she made a new friend, someone with a house and blow or junk. Anything to kill the empty broken screaming inside. Why had he left her behind? Why the fuck had she been left for dead in the ocean in a fucking hurricane?

Miami Metro Area, Florida

Dexter hit the ground running once he got to Miami. He didn't want to be there any longer than he absolutely had to. The city was alive with ghosts of days gone by. Rita, the kids, Deb and Harrison all wandered the streets of his mind. There was nothing for him there anymore. The sooner he found his #1 fan and dealt with him, the sooner he could vanish again.

Using one of his fake Id's he checked into a sleazy motel on the northwest side. No better place to hide than with all the other people who had fallen through the cracks of society's floor. He needed to find this copy cat, this person who wanted his attention but he had very little to go on. He had done some homework on the flight, and knew much more about the first two victoms than Miami Metro Homicide had fed the press, which meant he probably knew just a little more than they did. It was almost like old times, Dexter vs the team, who could find the killer first. Dexter was determined this one was HIS.

As far as Dexter had been able to piece together both men were in their late 30's. Both had criminal records for violent crimes, one had been accused in a rape murder but the cops had never been able to make it stick. The other had 2 missing ex-girlfriends and an ex-wife with a restraining order. Both of them seemed to fit Harry's code pretty well.

Dexter had quietly let himself into their homes that first night back in town and tossed them for any clues why they might have been targeted any common clue to where their lives had intersected with that of the monster. All he had come up with was that they both had a thing for strippers. So strip clubs is where he would hunt his playmate.

The second night he spent canvasing the general area the two victims had lived in and narrowed it down to about 3 clubs they would have been closest too. He would start with those.

The Hollywood Lounge, Miami, Florida

Debra was over this place, she was pretty sure this would be her last shift. Too many men were coming back to see her. She didn't want or need the attention. Normally she would find someone to go home with a few times, wrap around her finger and ride for a few months. Not this time though. This time it was the end.
Her plan was already in play. It was only a matter of time till Angel and Quinn figured out who was doing the killing. She needed enough cash to buy a few extra grams of Heroin and it would all be over. Her confession was written, her final victim picked out. She even knew where she would stage the body, the dock where the Slice had been docked, they had piss poor security, no video surveillance and it would be the final clue Angel needed to catch her, she had left a single drop of blood on the thorn of the rose at each scene and she was counting on Masuka figuring it out.

" Lets fucking do this then Morgan" having given herself that little pep talk she finished getting ready for her set. 3 extra layers of Mascara applied and enough eyeliner to make her look like Cleopatra, glittery body powder dusted all over her , and two nice size lines of cocaine snorted to counteract the heroin from earlier Deb was ready to perform. She was so ready for this night to be over already. She had her guy on speed dial with the good stuff and some brand new points back at her place. One last trip to heaven via the sewer gate and then she could finally wrap it all up and bow out.
As she began to feel the sweet warmth of the drugs rushing through her system she heard the opening notes of her first song. It was time to shine and dazzle. She turned on the 1000 watt smile and sashayed out onto the stage to her waiting audience of adoring perverts. Zoned out high on coke and heroin and flying along with the music she gyrated on the pole, ground her ass into old mens faces and just in general had sex with herself right there in the open for their viewing pleasure while she pictured slowly slitting their throats one by one , watching their shirts turn red with their blood. Ah to bad she couldn't kill them all.

Entering the third and final club on his list Dexter made his way to the bar to order a beer as window dressing. If there was anything he was good at blending into crowds was it . He slowly scoped out the crowd looking for any face he might recognize. None of the faces jumped out at him. Nobody looked familiar. The frustration began to mount. If it wasn't someone hanging in the strip clubs what other common link was he going to be able to find between victims? He might have to wait for the next kill to get another clue to work with.
While he was here he might as well check out the employees of this place. Being thorough was one of the best thing Harry had taught him all those years ago and it had never let him down yet. He watched the bartenders closely under cover of needing another beer, having just conveniently misplaced his last one. None of the bar help looked familiar either, guess it was time to go check out the meat market part of the club. Cashing in a 20 for 1's Dexter turned to head towards the stage.

And the world moved, tilted sideways and spun around him. The stripper performing looked just like Deb. It was scary she moved like her, looked like her and the hands were Debs. Heck even the boobs looked right, if he remembered her T shirts correctly. Blown away Dex could only stare, no thought of taking cover or her noticing him, no thought of anything.
Swept back to that moment as she sank out of site below the storm tossed ocean waters. The gut wrenching pain of his heart breaking. The silence of a world in which her laugh no longer rang.
Up on the stage the stripper started her 3rd and final song in her set. As she spun in a fast circle around the pole and flipped upside down into the splits she shone like someone had covered her in diamonds reflecting a million points of light back into the crowd. She glittered like something out of a fairytale.
Sure he had completely gone insane he worked his way past drunken husbands who thought it didn't count as cheating since they were on vacation, passed locals who had had 2 or 3 to many and should have really left for home already. Trying not to trip over his own feet, he seemed to be swimming through Jello to move forwards and the space between himself and the stripper seemed to become further apart instead of closer. It wasn't her, he knew it wasn't. He KNEW she was dead, had been dead many years, and yet he kept getting ever closer, working his way around the edges. Her song was about to be over , he didn't have much time before she vanished behind the silver beaded curtain and walked out of his life again.

"Get a grip Dexter , that is not Debra" Suddenly Harry was blocking his way.

" Out of my way , or I will move you Harry. I HAVE to see for myself that is NOT Deb, she is on the list of people who knew about the code, and she is one of the few I didn't see cold and stiff or in little pieces. If there is any hope at all it is her I would walk over fire to get to her "
" I cant stop you Dexter, but some roads are better left untraveled. Have you thought what affect your reappearing from the dead will have on Debra?" Throwing his hands up in the air Harry stepped to the side.

" Because if that is Deb she is doing so great for herself in this dive ? Right Harry this was always your big dream for her to dance naked for wrinkled dollar bills?" Brushing past Harry Dexter headed for the back by the beaded curtain to try and get a good look at where the stripper had vanished too.

The stripper was vanishing through a swirl of beads and dollar bills and leaving behind a trail of spent glitter by the time Dexter got to the stage. This had probably been her last set of the night, it was getting close to closing time. His best bet would be to wait it out, watch for her to get off , follow her home. See her in good light , make 100% sure she wasn't Deb and then fade back into the night leaving her none the wiser to how close she had been to a killer.

Fighting the urge to jump on the stage and follow her through the curtain he used every bit of his self control to turn away. As he turned he realized he was now facing a hall with restrooms and what looked to be an alley exit door. Hoping this bar like so many others kept the alarm off on the back door to help drug runners bring in product for the girls to keep them going, he pushed down on the bar that opened the door. He held his breath for a moment but no alarm sounded he had guessed right or just been lucky.

Letting himself out he scoped out the layout of the alley. It was your typical service alley. A few dumpsters nestled against the walls, spilling foul smelling bags of trash leaking strange liquids onto the stained concrete. Poorly lit and slightly sleazy. The strippers probably left this way at the end of their shifts, so all he had to do was wait a little while longer and then he would be able to see for sure this was NOT Deb and move on with his hunt for the man who wanted to be man who had to die. The monster smiled. Coming out of retirement was suiting him very well indeed, maybe he had been wrong to seclude himself away, maybe this was what he was born to be.

" Harry you smug old bastard I think you knew more than I gave you credit for" mused Dexter to himself as he killed time, trying not to step in any of the oil shimmered puddles, and dodging Luna moths who seemed intent on leaving their wing dust on him. Hearing footsteps of the thin heeled variety he peaked out around the dumpster that was sheltering him in its embracing dark shadows. He got a good look at the emancipated waif as she wandered down the alley, this was not the stripper he had seen on stage. The Deb look alike. He toyed with the idea of befriending the one who looked like Deb, going home with her and living some sort of life, until he couldn't stand it any more and tried to silence the voice of Deb in his head by killing her again. The idea held a certain appeal.

" Thanks Mike see ya round" came the voice from the back door. Every hair on Dexters body stood straight up, on end , alert as if they were dowsing the air in the alley for the truth of what first his eyes and now his ears were screaming at him. Deb, that was Deb. The Sound of her Voice in all its emotions was burned into his brain more securely even than every inch of her porcelain skin. He could feel the shock as it traveled down the back of his neck burning across his shoulders, catching his breath in his lungs, the missed beat of his ice heart. The tingling in his fingertips and toes. It was like he had grabbed a stripped electric cord and gotten zapped. Sliding further into the dark recess of wall and dumpster he waited for the impossible to walk by. Should he just step into the light and make himself known?How would that go down , he just had to be 100% sure. It was impossible for this to be Deb. He had watched her sink, he knew she was dead. He must be going insane. Better to follow and watch and learn what strange creature this was, this chimera , this illusion that mirrored so closely her every characteristic enough to trick even his monster, which lay strangely dormant for being on a night hunt. Waiting , watchful as ever ready to pounce.

As she walked by the flickering Neon light bathed her in a strobe of pink and green, like mottled moths obscuring the truth of her features from his hiding spot and yet sudden clarity hit him. This was Deborah Morgan, he would stake his life on it. Hell not like it was worth that much anymore truth be told. In that instant of clarity he saw the future play out in many different timelines, like watching a bank of TV Monitors all at once. He saw the futures where it was Deb and he followed her and killed them both, the ones where they lived happily ever after. The ones where he followed this woman home and it wasn't Deb and he killed her, and the ones where he let her live and killed himself instead. All at one time they flooded him and he almost lost track of Deb as she pulled out her cell while walking down the street. No car he thought to himself. Her home must be near this dive then, he mused, as he crept along behind her. Keeping always to the shadows, dodging puddles of light like earlier he had dodged their liquid counterparts.

Weaving behind parked cars and large bushes, keeping to shadows that played fast and loose in the neon glow of Miami he managed to follow her the few blocks to a dilapidated apartment building. She never seemed to even check behind her for a tail, little sister was getting sloppy. Standing across the street as if he was looking for his keys to get into any one of the cars along that stretch, he waited to see which floor the lights came on, and was rewarded by seeing the second story light up and the shadow of the stripper… Deb…. No for now just The stripper …cross her blinds. As he slowly checked around to see if anyone would notice a dark shape crossing the dimly lit pothole littered road, he realized someone else was heading for Debs door. This had to be her phone call from earlier, dammit , he would have to wait it out, so close to knowing was it or wasn't it ? But better to not be seen by anyone in case the stripper was not Deb but some close double profaning the life of an Angel.

Inside the Apt of Deb Morgan

Sitting on the dingy couch that came with the furnished rental Deb slowly let herself relax a smidgeon, never more than that. She had felt the creepiest sensation on her short walk home, as if someone was following her. She had refused to give in to the temptation to turn and hunt the dark for an imaginary demon stalking her. There was no one left who gave enough of a fuck to stalk her down, and not many out there who could get the drop on her, and now that she knew the feel of a human life escaping, the veins slow ending of its life long dance, she found herself strangely free of fear, or maybe it was her watery resurrection, either way she was no longer scared of things in the dark, she was now of the dark and anything out there in the night had better fear her.

Hearing the familiar knock on her door she grabbed the cash off the table and opened the door, swapping cash for plastic bags of temporaory peace, a ritual so well worn they didn't even really speak, gestures and half uttered thanks passing for communication. Closing the door, she grabbed her kit, and set about escaping her human shell for just a few short hours. Watching the blood flower bloom in the clear hull of the syringe as she made sure she was in the vein was always her favorite moment, the last seconds before oblivion wrapped her in its sheltering wings, one last moment of agonizing ability to feel. And then she jumped off the cliff and was flying free across the dreamscape of her mind, flashes of years gone by. Harry, Dexter taking turns staring in reruns of times long over. A life so far from where she was now that some days she wondered if they were even real , these two men she had loved who had defined her reality. Harry, father , friend, liar, and in the end betrayer and Dexter , brother , friend , beloved, liar and also betrayer in the end. Fuck was it any wonder she was so fucked? Fuck it time to fly.

Seriously high Deb missed the sound of her door opening slowly and the slight rustle as Dexter's shirt brushed the wall as he silently shut the door behind himself. There in the dim light of the dingy living room he could smell her, he could hear her breathing, in that moment he KNEW that WAS somehow, someway, by some miracle Deb. His sister, his friend, his only ever love. Frozen in one spot trying to process how she was alive and not dead. He himself had dumped her dead body in the ocean, that was it the end , how was she alive? Was he totally insane then, had he completely lost it and this was just some woman that resembled Deb? Only one way to find out he thought to himself as he crossed the few short feet between himself and Deb ,who strangely was not responding to the sound of someone in her home and he knew she had to have heard him by now unless maybe this woman was deaf? Coming closer he realized a few very different and equally important things. First of all beyond any doubt remaining this was Deb, and he loved her more than life itself and she was very close to an OD if the empty bag was any judge, and he was going to be sobering her up for the next few days. Having just found her he was NOT going to lose her again ever. Reaching out he shook her shoulder lightly" Deb, DEB can you hear me, I need you to open your eyes Deb" What a cruel fate it would be to find her only to lose her again in the same moment Dex refused to allow that to be how this went. Grabbing her wrist to take her pulse seemed to finally bring a response from Deb,she smiled and whispered " dex, its almost as if you were really here, I love when you come see me, you're an asshole for being dead you know". Stunned Dexter sat back while not letting go of her wrist but rather brining it with him into his lap tracing circles across the skin covering her poor abused veins as he now so clearly saw what was wrong with her , this was definitely Deb and somehow she was confused and thought he was dead instead of her, something had gone terribly wrong. This was going to be a long night.

Far away in her safe place Deb thought she heard Dexter's Voice calling to her across an ocean of pain. "Deb … Deb come find me" he seemed to be saying and she ran after him, as always chasing the voice, till sometimes if she was lucky she would find him, usually he was waiting for her on the slice , and sometimes at her place on the beach. Tonight was different tonight he was at her place, the sad little place she called home right now. This was new and he was holding her hand, when had he ever touched her before at the end of the chase? Maybe she was close to death and reaching across the veil. She wanted to stay if that was true, no need to ever wake up, one less person would die and instead she would spend eternity chasing Dexter through hell itself. Sitting up in her strange dream she smiled and said " Hey Dex about fucking time you showed up, I've been so fucking tired of this shithole life , get me the fuck out of here would ya?" Strangely Silent Dex or his ghost or her hallucination just looked at her as if unsure of what words would spill out of his mouth if he opened it. Still very very high Deb felt the room spin as she tried to focus on this unexpected visitor in her solitary hell. Trying to swim up a few level of sobriety was almost pointless but yet she struggled to clear her head because Dex looked very real , more real than he ever had before, and his fingers rubbing her wrist in small circles sure felt VERY Real and she began to freak out just the slightest that she had finaly snapped, then she remembered how fucking high she really was, and laughing began to tell him all the things she never really had time or a chance to before he died.
" Well fucking look what the cat dragged in Dexter Morgan himself , my asshole serial killer brother, who fucked my life, stole my heart and ran off to fucking die leaving me half dead in the fucking ocean, just so he didn't have to face for once in his fucking life he loved someone back" Snickering she added " Balls, that felt fucking good, I should have done this a long time ago ! I killed Laguerta for you mother fucker could you have at least pretended to fucking love me back? Would it have killed you to spend your life with me at your side since your some freak who can't feel fuck all anyways?" As she finished her sentence she noticed Dexter had been slowly getting closer to her as she vented all the things she wanted too, he was reaching for her face and she wondered if he would pass through her or if she would feel his touch. Then he was touching her and his hand was warm and solid and not at all like she thought death would feel.
"I have always loved you Deb" Dex said as he slowly lowered his lips over hers and silenced her squeak of protest by sweeping his tongue along her lips, slowly sliding between them and opening her mouth to him, drinking deep like a parched man at a cool spring. The kiss that could never be, happened and it was the end of one world and the beginning of a new one. A single tear traced its path down Debs cheek and tickled his skin where it met hers. Breaking away he saw she was crying and sort of angry looking.
" God damit Dexter why didn't you kiss me like that when we were alive? We could have had a fucking life man " Collapsing back into the couch Deb passed out , the drugs winning over the will to remain awake.