A/N: I think I jumped the gun on the last post :) I'm not yet halfway! Ha, not quite sure what made me think I was :p Anyhow I'm really enjoying writing this and I definitely love hearing from you!

Prompt: Verbal Abuse/Humiliation

"You hanging out with me Saturday night, Morgan?"

Facing her locker, Deb blushes as she exchanges her books. She composes herself, back into her cool girl persona, and turns around to face Adam. Soccer team star, senior year hottie Adam, asking her out was about as good as it got. Deb closes her locker casually and leans her shoulder against it as she considers him.

"Where the fuck you taking me?" Deb asks wryly.

Adam chuckles. Deb may not be a girly girl, but it turns out there were plenty of boys who liked her potty mouth and her toughness. They liked to tell her how easy it was to get along with a girl who enjoyed sports and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Probably didn't hurt that she wasn't a prude either.

And it definitely didn't hurt that she hid her insecurities well. It had been a tough year for Debra. At 15 she was losing her mother, her father ignored her and her brother was distant. She felt alone, isolated and scared nearly all the time. But to her so called friends at school, none of this was apparent. To the cool crowd that Deb hung out with she was the girl with the pretty face, the filthy mouth, and the 'don't fuck with me' attitude. And they liked her for it. They liked her so much they didn't notice she wasn't all that fond of them.

But this is what Debra needed to survive. To feel some semblance of acceptance from anyone was possibly the last shred of sanity in her otherwise crumbling life. To have found that acceptance from the popular kids had been unexpected. So even though she found the girls vain and annoying, even though the boys were the same, it was better than nothing. At least at school she could pretend her future didn't look dismal, that someone loved her. And as superficial as she knew this to be, it was all she had left.

"Ya know, the usual. Pizza, a movie…that spot over on Foster Street." Adam lifts his eyebrows suggestively at her.

Deb scoffs in return but smiles at him coyly. She knows the spot well. Where most of her crowd spends Saturday night behind the privacy of fogged up windows. "We'll see about that."

Adam smiles and swings an arm around her shoulders, guiding her over to where the others stand. The group of five is staring down the hall and Susan turns to smile at Debra. "I don't get it Deb. How are you so normal and your brother is so weird?" The redhead nods towards the direction the others are looking in as Dexter walks awkwardly down the hall, his head bowed and his shoulders hunched. Deb watches him as he stops at his locker, fiddling with the dial before pulling the metal door open.

"He's not that weird." Deb mumbles, thinking of the many times she has defended her brother over the years. The truth is that Dexter only seems to get stranger. By all accounts at school he was quiet, awkward. But Deb knew he wasn't really the same big brother she had for so long adored. They didn't talk the way they once did. He never seemed to be around for her anymore. She wondered if the boy that she had loved so dearly as a child was gone. She wondered if they would become those adults that didn't really like each other.

And to top it off she couldn't help but resent him. In truth she envied how their father seemed to care so much more for him. She'd find them often, huddled together, deep in conversation which would end abruptly upon her arrival. Then there were the hunting trips they would go on together, leaving her alone with her sick mother. It's not that she minded taking care of her mother. But it often felt like they didn't want her around. And she wondered what would happen to her once her mother was gone.

She still tried though, to get them to notice her. That so called stunt with the gun last year, the one that had gotten her grounded for a month, was only an effort to feel included. Why was her excitement about becoming a cop so easily dismissed by her father who bled blue? Why did her father go out of his way for a child that wasn't even his and disregard his own flesh and blood?

So maybe the truth was that she hated Dexter a little. Maybe even more than a little. She remembers a time when she used to find comfort in Dexter's presence, sleep on his bedroom floor just to be near him. But now she couldn't even look at him without feeling angry. So in this moment, standing with the cool crowd that seemed to care for her more than her own family, she no longer wanted to defend him.

Swirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger, Trisha chimes in. "Oh, I think he's just shy. It's kinda sweet really. Plus he's totally the reason I passed bio last year."

"No." Deb shakes her head, her gaze still on her brother. "Susan was right." She watches Dexter walk towards them, his head still bowed, eyes on the ground. "Dexter is weird." She waits until he is in earshot before she speaks again. "Dexter's a complete fucking freak."

Deb smirks as she says this and her delivery elicits a round of snickers from her friends who are always more than happy to put everyone else down. Dexter seems unphased, and continues to walk by, only bothering to lift his eyes and glance at Deb. But in that split second look their eyes meet and Deb feels the burning shame of being so cruel to someone who doesn't deserve it.

Her gaze follows him as he turns the corner and Adam squeezes her shoulder. "Come on Morgan, we'll be late to class." She pulls her eyes back to the cute boy draped around her and gives him a small smile. But the look Dexter gave her stays with her for the rest of the day.

As she looks over the backyard from the kitchen window that evening, Deb can hear her mother upstairs coughing. Doris couldn't even come down to the dinner table anymore. Deb usually had to be the one to attempt to feed her mother dinner, a task which was becoming more and more depressing as Debra saw her mother's appetite decrease. Deb sighs, drops her gaze to the dishes in her hand and stares at the foam covering her fingers. She can feel the bubble growing in her throat, the tears welling in her eyes and wants nothing more than to burst into tears.

"You okay?" Dexter interrupts her thoughts and Deb blinks the tears away as she scrubs the dish in her hand fervently.

"What do you want?" Deb asks him gruffly.

He can hear the pain in her voice and shuffles awkwardly in the door of the kitchen, unsure of what to do. "I…I was just wondering how Mom is doing?" Dexter asks her tentatively.

"Mom's dying. How do you think she's doing?" Deb answers quietly, hoping her breaking voice won't betray her harsh attitude.

"I'm sorry Deb." He can hear Deb scoff in response though she doesn't say anything. She is still turned away from him and though he has never been good at reading situations, though he and Deb have drifted apart lately, he still gets that she needs something. Truthfully, he feels sorry for her. He knows how much she feels things. So to be watching her mother die, to see Dexter and Harry spend so much time together and be left out, for him to hide so much from her, he understands that she would be in pain. And even though he keeps his distance for her sake, he does care about her and he wants to see her happy.

Dexter wishes Harry hadn't insisted they stop spending time together. It had confused Dexter completely. Here Harry was demanding that Dexter act normal, and Deb provided so much of that normalcy for so long. So why had Harry told him they were too close? Why did Harry feel the need for Dexter to have different friends?

But Harry hadn't been in a mood to explain himself, so Dexter trusted his adoptive father because he had no one else to turn to. At least Deb had found friends. Even if they were the same people that teased and judged him, even if Deb did the same, at least he hoped she was happy. And to be honest, he didn't mind what had happened today, because in some ways she had every right to hurt him with all the pain he was causing her.

But Dexter doesn't know how to explain all of this to Deb. So instead he steps a little closer and hesitantly places his hand on her shoulder. He knows she might just swing around and punch him, or maybe she'll ignore him entirely. Instead he feels her shoulders droop and suddenly she turns and hurls herself at him. Her arms encircle him and she buries her face against his shoulder, suddenly sobbing, her body shaking against his.

Uncertainly, Dexter awkwardly wraps his arms around her and waits for her to calm. She pulls away finally and steps back, feeling suddenly self-conscious about her outburst. She stares at the crooked tiles beneath her feet as she thinks again of the look Dexter gave her in the hallway. Finally working up the nerve she looks up at her big brother who stares back at her uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about today, Dex. I was just…" Deb snorts quietly. "I was just being an asshole like my friends."

She smirks softly at him and he smiles in return, shrugging it off. "It's no big deal."

To Deb it's like looking at the brother she hasn't seen in so long. The one who seemed to care about her. The one who was patient and kind and always a shoulder for her lean on. Seeing him now she is comforted to know he hasn't disappeared for good. And she can feel that glow of love for him once again. Maybe things weren't the same as they once were, but it gave her hope that one day they might be.

"Yeah, it is. You're my brother. And you don't deserve that. I won't do it again." Deb tells him sincerely. For a quiet moment they look at each other and Dexter wants badly to reassure her, to let her know that he does deserve it and that she can say whatever she needs to and he won't mind. But her expression turns sad and he waits for her to speak instead.

"You won't leave me, will you, Dex?" She looks at him miserably. "Mom's dying and Dad doesn't give a fuck. I can't lose you too." She begins to cry again, softer this time and Dexter watches as the tears slide down her cheeks, drop off her chin.

He steps closer to her again and hugs her once more. "We'll be ok, Deb." He promises, even though he already knows it isn't true.