A/N: Warning. This is, in my opinion, first chapter that shows why is this story M rated. There will be some sexual themes (but I repeat-no smut soon) and some cursing, but more detailed M stuff is kinda graphic description of murder. Just a fair warning.

Next morning, Dexter woke up little earlier than usual. Strange enough, that would usually happen night after he would kill someone-sometimes even for next few nights afterward.

Even strangest thing was that he couldn't remember what was he dreaming-if he would dream something at all. Weird.

Thinking that Debra is still asleep, he decided to use the bathroom. He walked toward the bathroom and noticed that bathroom doors are partially opened. He looked inside, but since he just woke up, his eye sight was still a little blurry and he couldn't see anything clearly. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.

He widened his eyes in shock. Debra was standing there,completely naked, wiping her body with white towel. She just finished wiping her breasts, and her nipples were already erected. He was pleasantly shocked by what he saw. Debra's breasts weren't especially big but they were nicely shaped, covered with smooth skin (she was obviously freshly shaved), and fit the rest of her body. Her skin was very smooth, and, as far as he could see, flawless. Her legs were long and simply looked... perfect, just like her whole body, actually. Her wet brown hair was falling down her breasts and shoulders. She just finished wiping her stomach and thighs and started wiping her legs, bending down...

Realizing that she could see him, and, even worse, that he is basicly spying on his sister, he sneaked back in his room, closing the doors behind, pressing his back against the door, breathing heavily.

What just happened? Did he actually get aroused upon seeing his sister, his own sister naked?

He tried to convince himself that isn't the case, that it was maybe morning erection that he accidently experienced in that moment, or that it was because he didn't see naked woman in such a long time, but that... image simply couldn't get out his head.

And worst part was that, for him... it didn't feel like a bad thing.

"Dex, are you coming?"

He frowned upon hearing Debra's voice in hallway, jumping in place.

"What?", he asked, trying to control upcoming shivers in his voice. "How d-do you think, am I...?"

"I thought I heard you. You woke up earlier too? Are you coming in the bathroom? It's free now."

"Oh... that. Uhm... I'll be there in a minute!"

"OK."

He looked at his underwear. His hard on was still clearly visible.

What to do now? I don't have time too... think... think about... blood and violence and... no, that isn't working. Of course. Try... try imagining Masuka naked. OK. Problem gone.

Although tonight I will probably have my first nightmare after very long time.

He walked out of his room, closing the doors behind, and headed toward the bathroom.

"Something is wrong with bathroom doors", he heard Debra talking from the kitchen. "I couldn't close them properly. You should fix that."

"Yes", Dexter said while walking in the bathroom. "I will."

"I will make myself a breakfast."

"No, I will eat later. I... I really don't have apetite right now."

#

Patrick parked his car on desert parking lot half miile away from Jon Wilson's house. He walked out of car, closing the doors behind, holding black plastic trash bag in his right hand. He already had yellow rubber gloves over hands, white plastic shoe covers over shoe bottoms, red baseball cap on top of his head and black sunglasses. After locking car doors, putting key in right pocket of his pants, and started walking toward Jon's house, looking over his shoulder from time to time. It took him five minutes to get to Jon's house. He approached to it from back side. He looked around and saw that air is clean. He looked inside the bushes and saw that bag is still there. Than he got on work.

He already detaly studied house day before, so he knew exactly how to breake in. He climbed over short hedge, slowly and carefully, as silent as possible, managing to hold bag in his hand, and walked toward back doors. Those were glass doors, and they lead in large living room, with leather couch, coffee table, large book case and big TV. Patrick looked inside. Nobody in the living room. He looked around, then pressed door knob. Doors were unlocked, like yesterday. He closed the doors behind and started walking toward office near living room, till he heard Jon talking on the phone. He stopped, silently put his bag on the floor, stepped two steps in the left, and pressed his back against the wall, listening to Jon in his private ordination.

"I understand this is hard for you, Mr. Logan, but I really need to cancel our today's session. I'm sure you'll do fine. You made lots of progress lately, don't forget that."

Feeling that Jon is about to finish the conversation, Patrick silently opened bag and took out a hammer...

"OK. I'm sure you'll make it. Bye."

As soon as Jon walked in the living room, Patrick wacked him with hammer in the mouth, to prevent him from screaming. Jon let out muffled, painfull scream and colapsed on the floor. Several of his teeth were knocked out his mouth. Patrick heart was beating faster than ever and he was feeling shivers all over his body, like every time, but he tried not to over-think this and simply do it. He searched Jon's pockets, found set of keys and put it behind the cupboard few feet away. He also found cellphone, threw it on the floor and smashed it with hammer.

He raised hammer again and punched Jon in a throat. This time, he started getting satisfaction he wanted. Then he punched him in right shoulder, then twice in right thigh, then in groin-three times. Jon tried to scream, but he couldn't-he could barely breath, actually-and he was already too weak to defend himself. That only p gave Patrick extra satisfaction. He lay hammer on the floor, silently, then took a knife from bag and started stabbing Jon, all over. He wasn't thinking-he just started stabbing him till his arm felt tired and till that feeling stopped. He couldn't describe that feeling exactly, but best way to describe it would probably be "mental orgasm". And then... extreme release... peace...

However, he still felt uncomfortable, even shocked, after the crime, when he would see what he did. He wasn't paying attention on that during murders-like he was in some sort of trans-but, even after so many murders, he was still shocked; he couldn't even believe that he did that! So he did his best not to look at Jon a lot.

He also doesn't see himself as a killer. Sure, he killed some people, but he feels that he doesn't have that inside... that what real killers have. But love can make you do lots of crazy things.

He silently put the knife down on the floor, looked around, took Melany's necklace from the bag and put it around Jon's-now butchered-neck. He took off his gloves, dumped them his bag, took out pair of clean ones from right pocket of his jeans, wrapped in bag which he dumped on same place as bloody gloves, and put new gloves on. He then took pair of clean shoe covers, wrapped in plastic bag, from left pocket of his jeans, unwrapped them, put that bag in biggle bag, took off old shoe covers, dumped them in his bag and put on new ones, extremely carefull not to touch the floor with bare shoe bottoms or leaving traces of blood on his gloves, puttin new one on immediately after taking off and threwing away old one. He picked up set of keys and ran in Jon's ordination. He put keys on the table, set clock on Jon's computer from 1 pm to 11 am, and searched documents on Jon's computer. When he found the one was looking for, he deleted it. He copy-pasted previous document over deleted one and saved changes. He set clock on right time again, picked up the keys and ran toward locker containing patient files. Quickly founding the key for lock on locker containing patient files. Once he found the file he was looking for, he put key on Jon's desk, dumped file in his bag, walked back in ordination, closed and locked the locker, walked back toward the body and put set of keys back in right pocket of Jon's pants. He picked up the hammer and put it in the bag. Just as he picked up the knife...

"Dad, I need to ask you something...", he heard girl's voice and looked in front of himself. He saw teenage girl walking toward Jon's ordination, stopping in her tracks and widening her eyes in shock, too shocked to talk.

Patrick was looking at her in silence for few second, motionlessly, holding knife tight in his right hand, and then he started running toward her...

#

Debra walked into interrogation room A, closing the doors behind. Fingerprint and DNA evidences recovered in Neil Davis's house matched to three juvenile offenders: Johnny Glover, 16, Danny Darco, 17, and Steve Smith, 15. She decided to question them Boys were sitting at the table in the interrogation room, now wearing white bathrobe and white woolen slippers, due to their clothes and shoes being confiscated.

"Why are we here?", Danny asked as soon as Debra walked in the interrogation room, with file in her hands.

Debra turned on the camera, sat at the table, opposite to them, and put file on the table.

"You have right to remain silent. You have right to attorney. Everything you say can be used against you in the court of law. Do you understand me?"

Boys nodded. Debra continued.

"Yesterday, seventy two year old Neil Davis was found murdered in his home yesterday. We found your fingerprints all over the crime scene."

Boys remained silent, like they are shocked or at least confused.

"You were arrested before. I believe you know that, whenever you touch something, you leave your fingerprints and that fingerprints are distinctive for every person, right."

Finally, Jonny started talking.

"Well, maybe we robbed the place... but we didn't kill that guy!"

"Really?", Debra asked before opening the file and showing photograph of bloody fingerprints and palm prints found on the crime scene. "Because we also found your fingerprints and palm prints inside his blood. Some of it on murder weapons. And hairs found ripped in his hands and on his clothes. DNA analysis confirms, without a doubt, that all three of you left those hairs. You know what is DNA, right? Also distinctive for every person. Except when it comes to identical twins, but I advise you not even trying to use that as a defense. We didn't confiscated your clothes and shoes for no reason. Your sneakers matche to shoe prints found in the ground in victim's yard, under the window which you used to breake in. And they also match to latent shor prints found inside the house. And bloody shoe prints. Found both inside and outside. You washed your clothes, but our forensic experts still managed to found traces of blood all over it. It will take them day or two to complete DNA analysis, but I believe we all know thait it will prove that blood belongs to Neil, right?"

Boys were silent for almost a whole minute, exchanging frightened looks, panick evident in their eyes. Debra smirked.

"It didn't suppose to end up like that!", Steve finally said.

"Shut up!", Danny screamed.

"You shit up! You're the one who killed him!"

"But you were holding him down!", Johnny said.

"You did too! You even hit him few times! With that fire poker taken from fireplace in kitchen! And that fruit bowl from the coffee table! And lamp torch!"

"And you hid stuff we stoke in that abandoned garage near your house!"

"You all shut up!", Danny screamed, now desperately.

Debra smirked, and simply walked out of the interrogation room, leaving the camera on and closing the doors behind, while Quinn was talking on his cellphone.

"Great job, Debra."

"Thanks."

Quinn just finished his phone conversation.

"Bad news", he said. "Two more bodies."

"Fuck", Debra said. "What's his problem."

#

Dexter was sitting at desk in his office. He had no other work to do, so he started studying all case files involving latest serial of killings in Miami. Maybe this time he will notice something, something that will help him catch the killer and... take care of him.

After an hour and a half of detail examination, he came up with nothing. Judging by bloody glove prints, killer could use ten different types of gloves and shoe covers, all of them very common, too common to be usefull lead. None of the witnesses could provide detail description. Modus operandi didn't match to any registered sex offenders or killers living close to the victims.

There are few usefull leads: killer is right handed, about 5'10 tall, and wears shoes number ten. But lots of men match that description. And some women too. He detaly studied photograph of that bloody shoe print found on scene of the first murder, but didn't found anything that could help him determe type of the shoe.

None of the victims had lots od enemies, and most of them had alibies. Alysha Brando's ex-boyfriend, Neil Davidson, is good suspect, but police simply can't track him down. He isn't using his credit cards or his cellphone, all attempts to track down his cellphone or GPS signal failed, and nobody reported seeing him or his car. Also, why would he kill other girls?

At that moment, Debra walked into his office.

"Dexter, we need to go", she said. "Row Street 10."

"OK", he said, stood up and walked out his office with her. "What happened?"

"Bastard killed again. Twice."