This was actually hard to write even though it's the chapter I planned at first. I'm not completely happy with it, it's so... dark but I always thought Dexter would end that way, so yeah beware; blood ahead. The next chapter will be easier and better, I hope.

Thanks to The L. MMonster for the review!

"If Deb dies I'll be… lost."

The morning passes in a blur. Dexter got a call to a crime scene, some shot woman with all her jewelry gone, and did his work without paying any attention to his surroundings; taking photos, gather evidences and when someone tried to talk to him he just hummed something without even listening to what the person said. It's nearly ten o'clock when he finally sits in his office and even though he should probably do some work he can't concentrate on anything else then what happened in his apartment this morning.

He knew that Debra had those feelings for him, but she never tried to act on them what made it easy to ignore it, now however it's everything on his mind and he thinks he starts to understand her. Somehow. He still doesn't get why she didn't leave him or gave him to the cops after everything he did to her, but he thinks he starts to see how deeply she really loves him and maybe he even understands it. It's sort of hard; he's still new in this feeling-business and emphasizing with his emotional sister wouldn't even be easy if he was normal, but at least he's pretty sure now that she isn't imagine all of this. And when the conversation with Debra showed him one thing, than it is that he can't leave her.

She was the only one who gave him the feeling that he wasn't a monster, the only one who really loved him. She kept him sane, not just when they were younger but even after Rita died and Lumen left. And when she found out who he was she accepted it though it was against everything she believed in. She gave up her whole life, even herself, for his sake. No, he can't just leave and if he's honest with himself he doesn't even want to. She was right; there was a time he killed his own brother for her and if it would be necessary he would still do it. He would burn the whole world down for her.

But there's still Hannah, or the idea of Hannah. She's just like him; she's a reckless, heartless killer with no conscience to speak of and the only thing she really wants is to find a place where she belongs. And like with Debra it's a miracle that she's still on his side. Hannah seems to be everything he ever dreamed of; someone she is just like him and understands and accepts him the way he is and is able to give him some peace. Argentina. It seems so real when he is with Hannah, but can he really relay on her? She isn't predictable, seems to find a reason to kill somebody too soon - he isn't even sure if she always needs a reason - so what if she will be a threat to Harrison like Debra said?

And maybe his Argentina was always there, right in front of him. He has a good life and maybe everything he ever missed was Debra. Now that she knows his secret and gave so much to protect him, to understand him, why shouldn't she be able to give him what he sought his whole life; a place that feels like home, where he can be himself without being scared, where he doesn't feels like a monster, where someone is with him.

He imagines it: Him, Debra and Harrison living in his apartment. They'll fight over who drank the last cup of coffee and who has to do the laundry and they'll laugh together and remember old stories from their childhood and Debra will roll her eyes on him and will say he's a douchbag once in a while. There will be beer and steaks and lazy evenings on the couch and Debra will kiss Harrison goodnight every day and he would have something like a mother again, one with a potty mouth, who isn't like all the other moms, but one who would love him just like any other mother loves her child. And maybe Dexter will share his bed with Debra, sleep next to her, sleep with her, because it'll feel right, like it always should have been that way and he will wake up in the morning and the first think he sees is her face and he'll be happy. Nothing more, nothing less, just happy.

He sees it suddenly so clearly, that it surprises him, that he have never seen it that way before. It seems perfect, like it's meant to be. But it can't be so simple, can it?

Without giving it a second thought he grabs his keys and bag and goes to his car. It's a fifteen minutes' drive and the whole time he thinks about what he's going to say to Debra. He just has to know if it could be the way he imagines it, someday. There are a lot of things they'll have to discuss and work out and it won't be perfect or easy in the next couple of weeks, maybe even month, but he isn't ready to give her up. There's still Hannah and he still wants her and Argentina, but he can't leave without figuring out what's between him and Deb. She kissed him and he kissed her back and it felt right and it's fucked up because she's his sister and he's a serial killer, but she's is a part of his life, always was, and there were times when he played with the thought that she could be more than a sister; an accomplice, a lover.

He's at her house too soon. He still hasn't figured out what he's going to say, but when he knocks on her door no one opens. He wanders around the house and looks through every window and doesn't see anyone. He tries her phone and when she still doesn't answer after the third time he begins to worry. Debra just doesn't pick up her phone when she's either angry or working hard, which both isn't possible, because he didn't do anything wrong (at least in the last couple of hours) and she quitted her job. There aren't many options left so he tries to call Quinn. He's confused when Dexter asks him about Deb and wants to know if something's wrong, but Dexter just lets him promise that he'll call when he hears something from her. Then it hits him; there's still one person Debra might go to.

He runs to his car.

After he found Zach Hamilton dead in his apartment he started investigating in a different direction and even though he didn't find any real proof he's pretty sure, that Vogel's the Brain Surgeon. And now Debra's gone.

It's like when Brian got her all over again; his heart is racing, his palms are sweaty, his whole body is trembling and the only thing he can think about is: Let me be wrong. She's fine. She's alive. No one's gonna harm her.

He drives faster than ever before and he thinks there was a small crash because of him, but he can't bring him to care. Normally you need half an hour to get to Vogel's from Debra's house; he makes it in twenty minutes. When he stops his car he sees immediately Debra's.

Dexter tries to calm himself, but it isn't working, it just gets worse. He feels like he's panicking. A feeling he never really had before. After he got out of his car he slowly walks the driveway to the front door, searching for a sing that there anything wrong, but the house looks as peaceful as always. Well, what did he accepted? Knifes on the porch? Screams? Blood?

The door isn't locked and after he made sure that no one was directly behind it, he opens it. The house is quiet. There aren't muffled voices, no low music. He walks through the long hall, looking in every room, but there's nowhere a sign neither from Debra nor from Vogel. He nearly calls himself foolish for overreacting that way, because they are probably just out, doing some therapy stuff and of course Debra wouldn't answer her phone, but then he enters the living room and sees her.

Debra is sitting on a chair, her head is bend down, her hair covers her face and her hands are in her lap and for a moment it almost looks like she's only sleeping. Then he sees the blood in her hair and on her t-shirt, the scalpels on the little table beside her and a glass. He doesn't have to look inside to know what is in there.

"Dexter?"

Vogel stands suddenly next to him. She looks confused, shocked and a little bit like she's… sorry. Without even planning to do it he pins Vogel against the nearest wall and puts his hands around her throat. She makes a little groan and he just presses more. It's like the control he had over himself is just gone and all that's left is rage and bloodlust. "What. Did you. Do to her." He says it in a low tone and it sounds more like a growl than a human voice.

Vogel moves her lips but no sound gets out of her. He releases his grip a little bit and she starts to take fast and deep breathes immediately. "I had to…"

"You killed her!" She's dead. She's gone. You're alone, she'll never get back.

Keep her safe, Dexter.

"I did it for you!" She screams back nearly as loud as him. He is sort of surprised that she's even capital of so much emotion. "She was in your way."

Suddenly one of her hands is on his cheek and when she speaks again her voice is low and soft like it used to. "We created you, we gave you a life worth living for. You're perfect, Dexter. You're not just a killer, you're a hero. And she tried to destroy everything I worked for and she would have succeeded in the end."

"How should she?!" You destroyed me, Dexter. Everything that was important in my life is gone because of you!

"Don't you see it? You couldn't focus on what you have to do when she was around. She didn't want you to be a killer, she wanted you to be normal so you tried it and you nearly lost yourself. After what she told me this morning I knew it was just a question of time she would try to change you again and you would have done what she said to you, because that's the way we raised you. I had to save you from her, Dexter!"

"Just shut up!" He tightens the grip on her throat again, but she's still somehow capital of speaking.

"You are free now. You don't have to take care of her anymore. You can be yourself." There's something in her eyes that makes him wanna hit her, strangle her, stab her. Is it pride?

It's your fault. She did it because of you. You should have let Debra go. You killed her.

"I can't live without her", he pushes Vogel hard against so her head gives an ugly sound when it collides with the wall, "She was the only good in my life and now she's dead!" His fingers tighten more on her neck and Vogel starts to struggle for breathe

Destroy her! Just like she destroyed Deb. Maybe it will make you forget the pain.

"Dex-ter… please…" she stutters, a pleading look in her eyes, "let…" One of his hands leaves her throat to take the nearest scalpels from the little table. And stabs Vogel in her stomach. A low scream escapes her and she looks horrified at him. He takes the scalpel out, blood's splatters on his shirt. He pushes it back in, a few inches higher. The low moan that comes from he is satisfying, so he stabs her again and again. Till his hands are wet with blood and the scalpel is slippery between his fingers. Vogel doesn't make any sounds, her eyes are closed and when he lets go of her neck she slips to the floor.

He few seconds he stands over Vogel's dead body and tries to calm down, find some control over his shaking body, but it isn't working. He feels. He feels like he never felt before. Anger, rage, hate. It's so much that he wants to start screaming just to realize it.

Debra is dead. She's dead. You killed her. Debra. Debra.

The scalpel falls out of his hand and he turns to look at her again.

Dead. Just a lifeless shell. Nothing more.

He sinks to his knees. Takes her cold hands in his and lets them go when he sees the blood that he leaves on her. His little sister shouldn't be covered in blood. Never. But she was. Too many times.

And you were always responsible for it.

"It's all your fault." Debra sits suddenly besides him; one of her bloody hands lies on his shoulder the other von strokes his hair. He turns a little bit to have a better look on her. She looks alive. So beautiful and alive.

"If it wasn't for your selfishness I would still be alive. You should have told me about Vogel, but you were just to fucking busy to leave me. And now I'm dead." She speaks in a low tone with a tinny, sad smile on her face.

"I didn't want that to happen to you", he says in a flat voice.

"I know", she lies a hand on his cheek and he closes his eyes under her touch, "and still it happened. Me, Rita, Laguerta, Doakes, we all died because of you, although we didn't deserve it. Your code isn't working anymore, Dexter. You are killing everything around you."

He puts his hand on hers that still lies on his cheek, his eyes stay closed. "I don't want to go through this without you. I can't."

"Well, you still have Hannah, that's what you wanted and I won't be in your way anymore."

"I want you. I love you." And it's true, more than ever before.

"It's too late for it now, isn't it? I tried to say it to you so many times, but you wouldn't listen, wouldn't understand."

"I know."

"It's eternally your fault. No one else's. You're responsible."

"What am I supposed to do know?" He opens his eyes.

"I don't know. Live on? Run? Go to fucking Argentina?" He looks back from the Debra that sits in front of him to the lifeless one. He suddenly feels sick.

"I have to get out of her", he says to Debra and stands up. He runs to the door, trembling like he hasn't any control over his body anymore. Angry, furious, hurt.

It's all your fault.