A/N: reviews, people. I am not above begging :)

Debra tried not to puke when she saw the prosthetics in the corner of the room, a stab wound clearly evident in the chest of the haphazard mannequin. Dexter, for once, noticed, and gave a small nod in understanding before he set her down on the bed, leaving her side to dispose of the trap he had laid for his brother.

She waited there for a moment, silently in thought before he came back in the room, sitting next to her on the bed. "So..." he began. She could feel his anxiety, how overwhelmed he was as he struggled to think of a way to explain himself to her. It was a striking contrast from Brian, who had revealed himself enthusiastically, almost gleefully, as if he had just pulled off a really funny prank.

It was comforting, to know that Dexter was just as scared and uncomfortable as she was. But she couldn't savor that forever, she needed him to talk. "I want to know everything. No more fucking secrets, got it?" She shuddered as she spoke, but her words were firm.

Their backs were to eachother, leaning against one another on the bed. It felt easier for Dexter that way, as if he could pretend he was simply talking to a wall. "Ask anything and I'll answer." He said simply in response. He felt her tense, and he immediately regretted how he had chosen to word his response, knowing what her first question would be.

"Why didn't you kill me?" And there was silence. He was terrified of that question, he didn't know how to answer it. "You're my sister." He tried to reason. "And Rudy- Brian, was your brother." She shot back, undeterred. "Damn it Dexter, I want a straight answer. Why would you choose me over him?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" He roared, and they both went quiet. "Ok." She whispered, leaning further into him. "What happened to the two of you, then?" She moved on, noticing the relief in his posture as he relaxed slightly. "Our mother was murdered with a chainsaw in front of us as kids. We sat in her blood for 3 days." He said, answering what was, to him, a far easier question.

"Jesus, fuck, Dex!" She said, abruptly standing up and rushing around to face him, no longer able to look away from him. His face had that same faraway look, like he was trying hard not to think about it. "You've living with that this whole time, and you never..?" you never told me, they both knew she would say.

"I honestly didn't remember until very recently. And I didn't remember he was there, or who he was until I got there to stop him." So much of it made sense to her now. Christ's sake, the first thing he had said to Dexter was that he had been waiting to meet him for a long time.

"I was just a way to get to you." She exhaled, the reality of it finally dawning in her. "You asshole..." She trailed, and then both knew she didn't mean it. "And you're like him!" She recoiled, throwing his hands off of her. "No wonder you never talk about your fucking feelings, you don't fucking have any!"

Dexter looked confused, like he knew what to say but it didn't make sense to him. "I don't. I've never had feelings. I shouldn't." He started, but he didn't sound like he believed it himself. "The life Biney offered me, not having to hide, it was..." exactly what you want, she finished for him in her head. "Then why didn't you take it?" She asked, and they were back at square one.

"I've always told myself that if I was capable of emotions, of feelings, then I'd have them for you." He began, and she couldn't help but hang on his word choice. "I don't have feelings, I can't, but I still care about you. I couldn't let him hurt you. I just don't understa-" he was cut off as she wrapped him in a hug.

"Dexter, that is emotion you idiot." She whispered softly in his ear, and he shuddered beside himself at the sensation. "Without emotion, we'd be nothing but instincts. And if you only had that, you wouldn't have fucking saved me."

He was left slightly disappointed, though, when she pulled away from him suddenly. "Who the hell told you that you didn't have emotions?" She asked, an edge to her voice. "Well, dad found me starting to kill animals as a kid, and he realized I was a psychopath, so he-" but he was cut off once again as she began raging.

"THAT FUCKER!" She yelled, hitting Dexter on the arm just because. How could he have done that to Dex? He could've gotten Dexter help, or taught him to deal with his anger, but instead he emotionally abuses him, neglecting her in the process. "God, I knew that he taught you the stupid shitty code thing, but he really..!" Dexter nodded.

"Shit, Dexter, you're not a psychopath. You're fucked up and traumatized, but you're not a fucking psycho. You're not like Brian." You can't be. Please, please. You can't be like Brian. She begged him silently. "Debra, I've killed a lot of people." He said softly. Her expression steeled. "How many of them were innocent?" She asks him, challenging him.

"... None." He admits. "They were all horrible people. Murderers. Most were repeat offenders, some even serial killers." Deb throws her hands up, as if presenting some new product at a business meeting. "See, Dex? Even with your fucked-up urges, you still have morals. Dad has been dead for 10 years and you haven't broken his code once, and we both know it would be convenient to."

"You're right." He says, and for once, he isn't sure what else to say. "I just... I didn't think you would be this accepting." She scoffs, "Oh believe me, I am not fucking happy about this, mr stabby. But I am not going to sit here and let you think you're not human." He looks like he wants to argue, but wisely shuts up as she sends him a challenging death glare.

So, the talk ends, and she lies next to him, unwilling to be alone as Dexter finds himself relieved of a heavy burden he had almost forgotten he was carrying. "If you want to turn me in in the morning, I underst-"

"Shut up Dex." She says, snuggling up against him. This is nice, he catches himself thinking with confusion as they both drift off.