Hello, This is the last chapter guys. :)I really do hope you like it. :) I really want to thank all of you who read, reviewed, faved this story, I can't believe it ever got finished. :) But I will be revising the other chapters so if you want to read the story again. :D *cough* hint! well it'll be better. :)

But anyways, :') a load of hugs to you guys, I can't believe your level of support. :)

Bye. x

Cameras.

How nice.

I doubt anyone's got hold of anything REALLY incriminating.

At least not yet.

I'm sure Doakes got something though.

But he's dead. Oh that makes me feel so giddy to say that.

Dead, Dead, Dead, Dead, Dead, Dead!

The shipping container are cold now, the steel of the walls finally losing the ambient heat of the day; good thing too, bodies in Miami get quite ripe in such a short amount of time. Pity but I'll cope. I always have.

Cuba's hotter anyway.

And it's not like anyone can follow me there.

The wonders of fake ID's.

I start to dismember the rest of him; well not much was really left … but I do slice the head off at the axis. The expression of pain on his face is wonderful. His eyes, wide and afraid in his last moments, are still blood shot from the strain of the agony he endured, His pupils tiny pin pricks, the light no longer effective but shows the glaze of death in the deep mahogany iris'. His skin is littered with stains, tears and blood, the most delicious mix of fluid, drying; the salt glistens and the blood cracks and crumbles down his abused cheek. But the glee leaves me, it is replaced with awe as I begin to trace his torso with my blade, admiring both; he really was a fine specimen. The steel jolts over the convex ridges of his stomach leaving a fine trace of a line which will never bleed. I reach lower, the blade now just skimming the hip bone before I plunge it lower towards his upper thigh. So perfect, neat, pretty much bloodless. I take my time with him, it seems right. I pick up the hastened, leavened foot. Not as neat and perfect as the other cuts but not messy and I wrap. I tribute Brian, I make do with only saran wrap, plastic sheeting but the intent is there, I'm not the bay harbour butcher anymore, I've evolved now, grown, broken out of the shell that Harry formed for me.

I wrap the head last, close his eyes and reform the body, perfect again.

I feel whole at last, the routine right. My self is in my control, the dark passenger sated and calm.

The cleanup is finished, Doakes perfectly positioned on the table and the container has been shut.

I wander to the van thinking of the things to do before the dawn breaks. I must remember to send Rita a text, tell her that I'm sorry and that she'll never see me again; I turn on my phone, the cell bloody from my gloveless hands but no matter, I'm as good as gone, this was a final goodbye a completion of my life here in the land of my birth. My plans jipped temporarily but all is on track now.

The phone beeps into life

My hopes die.

27 voice messages, 56 missed calls, 124 unopened text messages.

It's over.

I smash my cell into the cement of the ground,

And don't bother looking at the messages,

No point changing out of the blood stained clothes now.

I won't be caught, I won't allow myself, I can't the code doesn't allow for it.

Rule no.1: don't get caught

The moonlight blackens the blood on my black cargos as I leave the metal of the container door behind me and skid the van over the remnants of the wretched mobile.

The smell of blood permeates the sticky Miami night as I climb nimbly into the previously pristine seat and drive

One more destination then.

Home.

I smash the gate with the tail of the van, admittedly a van isn't the best vehicle for high speeds run but alas, it will have to do; my other car half way across the gulf by now. I take the Fl-7-114 traffic would usually a problem but its midnight. Police, just the people I want to avoid, patrol this area though. It shouldn't be too much of a problem I'm almost halfway there, 25 minutes before I can step through into the only true home one last time. My stay won't be long, I was hoping to reminisce but that's not an option anymore. I'll be there just long enough to pick up my new identity as a deacon sent to carry out aid work. I'll be flying out of the country in two hours. They won't find me.

I do wonder how stupid the police are sometimes, 20% catch rate of murderers… honestly… well it was quite helpful.

I'm alone on the road. It's nice. Peaceful. It means I can move.

I should probably feel bad about stealing the minivan and the blood on the seat covers but I'm sure that with be the least of Rita's worries. I really did care for Astor and Cody, they reminded me of me. I liked that.

…

Sirens.

I manage to get to the lines of cedar before the police car pulls me over, not sure if it'll really matter if I get more jail time but I really don't want a car chase right now.

The cop who waddles to my car is the typical doughy donut munching sheriff dept. Fat, mid twenties, not a particularly hard… target. He's friendly though, his jovial voice squeaks in my sensitive ears wired and ready for the hunt.

"Hey mister, I know it's pretty empty round these parts but it's still not acceptable to be going 90 miles an hour on a road like this. Licence and registration, could you get out the car please."

I do, it's seems he's going to let me go actually. It's too late to work and all that, besides who has to know.

"Hey."

"Wait. You're him!" Shit

"You're on the news…Is that blood?"

"Dext….."

It's rather difficult to finish a sentence choking on your own blood. I keep his eyes as there widened state loses consciousness, my face impassive as he falls to his knees slowly fading shock engraved on his whitening face. I tilt my head as my face contorts into a smirk at the spurting slowing and starting to stream. My face covered with sweat and a downpour of fresh, warm, sticky blood. I can't believe there was a time I found this to my disgust; this… pure power.

My knife hangs loosely in my hand, the smooth sharpened edge smeared with rapidly cooling blood, a cold shiver racks my spine as I realise I can't enjoy this moment. Not really, Too much to do, too much to run from. Shame, two kills in one night, that's something to be fucking proud of, as my brother would put it; Well I think Debs would say the same thing but not in the same circumstance.

Oh, I forgot about Deb.

She's Lundy's bitch now but I have never wanted to kill her, Brian will attest to that, I'm still not sure that if it come to it I could do it. And well I'm fucked anyways, but Lundy.

He. Will. Die.

The steering wheel slips under my hands a few times now but I get to the house without anymore homicides, and well since the neighbourhood is pretty much abandoned now I find no qualms in getting out of the minivan covered in the various blood fluids I have collected tonight. I wipe the semi dried blood on the black cargo's and open the peeling white door, Left ajar, but that's not particularly concerning, what Is though is what I see across the second room I enter.

In addition to a rather dusty rickety old table and a manila envelope which I assume contains my various new papers, one Brian Moser has also found his way into the old pine chair lounging at the end of the table.

Rages leaving me, my knees weaken and I stop dead a meter from my elder.

"Brian … Biney?" I stumble over my words, my tongue loose, uncontrollable as I reach for his guiding hand. My golden vermillion flesh almost melts with the milky ashen of my brother, our fingers links like lock and key, his power draws me in as he clutches me in an embrace. Speechless and in awe I try to mumble but nothing intelligible flows from my stuporious mouth.

"But... you're in prison."

He pulls back and smirks, a mirror of my own,

"It wasn't that hard, not really, I was low security, so when I complained of stomach pains one of the nicer guards opened my cell to come in and check on me, and well long story short I strangled him with my shoe lace, put on the uniform and waited until his shift ended. I pretty much walked away. "

Oh my god.

"I'm leaving… they know it's me. I just came back for me Fake I.D but…" I seize his arms again, his sinewy flesh tight under my artfully powerful fingers. I can't get enough of this touch, the vibration of our connection zinging across my flesh again.

"You're covered in blood brother" He is nonchalant, as if he just pointed out a speck of dust on the decrepit table at our side.

"I know. "

Biney's face stretches into a wide smile; it's as real as he can muster.

"Whose is it?" he asks with slight trepidation. He wants to see what's changed.

"A cop," I reply, it's evasive and true. Besides, this is personal and well, I don't know his name.

"That Doakes guy? You got him?"

I smirk back, "yeah, him too."

It takes a few seconds to click but it does, his face tells me everything

I've made him proud.

Our breath feels like the only movement emanating in the hollow shelled room as we stare at each other.

We turn to break the stalemate and movement begins with a flourish, Brian starts to sort through a bag I never knew he had and I start my journey to the blood stained van parked on the far side of the road, stripping whilst slamming the door wide open. Quickly, I drag the bag of spare clothes from the back and chuck in my spoiled shirt thanking every deity that I had the foresight to bring two spare shirts tonight, Brian won't get anywhere in the guard's uniform, the pants he can keep but…

A scream from the house.

Breath rips from me as my legs ache to reach the house, my brother's security the only thought raging through my pulsating mind. I shred though house, the old decrepit door hanging now on one elderly, tarnished brass hinge. The last door that bars me entry is the one to our old room, but that door isn't much resistance either.

"HEL..."

"Shut it bitch."

It's her.

The lovely Lila.

And what a beautiful sight she is.

Brian has her, my bloodied strip of stainless steel resting sedately on her lily white neck; I can feel my pupils dilate as lust storms my veins yet again tonight, the haze of finely tuned sanity leaving my psyche, and the dark and very satisfied passenger dripping with the reminisce of its former chains and oozing into the utter control.

My body, slick with blood and sweat, eases its way towards the frail woman. My hand, so contrasting, so dark compared to her fine skin, gently brushes a few dark hairs away from her tearing brown eyes, the sweet thing, her dewy flesh so soft under my rough thumb.

"Dex, what are you doing?" her voice quivers in fear

"You know, I'm more like my brother than I let on really, because well, remember Jimenez? How I cried and said it was an accident, I got into a drug induced fight...? Well sweetie, I battered him one, shoved him into the boot of my shitty old car and sliced his jugular on the side of the Florida 90. You didn't think all that blood was from a bludgeoning did you?" I laugh as she begins to cower back into Brian, which is rather amusing as he is still the one with the knife. Well… I flick the switch blade in my hand out. Maybe not just him.

He throws her towards me; I catch her and force her close. She turns her head away but I thrust her face up to meet my gaze, I tilt my head and coo at her comfortingly, "so… is there a reason you are here? Because to be honest darling you're not really welcome." Petting her hair I look behind her, Biney looks fascinated. The yellowing walls and peeling wallpaper give old dead carnival nous to the bizarre situation.

She whimpers, pathetic. Yanking her hair down I growl, my hair comes away with a fair chunk of hair as her whimpers become sobs, "oh darling… I'm sorry." I whisper in her ear, we both know I don't mean it.

"I…I…I thought… you were…kid…napped, I was looking…for you."

It clicks.

Kidnapped.

The phone, the messages,

They thought I was kidnapped,

"…mess and I just… thought someone… called police. I'm sorry"

My eyes snap to the snivelling mess I now hold by the neck.

My breathing deepens as I struggle for control, the bitch!

I throw her to the filthy carpet, and pin her to the floor with a solid thrust of my knife through the sinewy flesh of her wrist. She cries out but I'm beyond caring.

I lift my eyes from her agony, and lock on to the rust staring blankly at me.

"She ruined me." his response is an understanding nod, but I see the desperation almost brimming over in his darkened, dilated eyes. So I'm a good brother.

And let him have her.

I back away and spit at her feet, I'm far beyond caring about forensic evidence, since I've pretty much dunked myself in it. A swish of my hand and she's done.

It's a beautiful act, to see the arch of the knife as it descends, But then, Brian has always been more… eclectic in his tastes, I can see he wants to ravage her, to violate her, like what they did to mommy, but we're too short on time we shouldn't even be doing this now, we should be half way to Cuba, to new lives. But then, there is always time for family bonding. He coos at her like I did, except more mockingly so as we all know she's going to die. Brian though is the more sadistic of us, and it really is quite elegant to see the expert knife strokes begin to skim the main arteries and veins, a start to the real blood let. Somehow, in the entire one minute that he's had her on the ground he has gotten her naked and has begun moving lower, the crumbling blood on the steel flaking into the wounds just created. He circumnavigates the apex of her legs and begins to trail down the perfect marble of her inner thigh; she begins to squirm more vigorously as Brian reaches the underside of her foot so being considerate I stomp her knee down with my boot, I feel something snap as she screams, glorious delightful screams which be both delight in. But it's late, and time is of the essence, I tap of my watch and he sighs, resignedly ramming the knife through the base of the foot. Another scream, but that stops when I kick her head. Brian checks her pulse then stabs her square in the chest, a wonderful bloom of the thick crimson fluid rises and drains in rivulets down her concave stomach.

Funny now I look at it, the red blood staining the carpet its original colour. Brian looks rather dizzy with the euphoria so I decide to get the bags from the dining table where they were so unceremoniously dropped by yours truly. But I stop at the door, it doesn't feel right, fleetingly I think maybe it's because I have still yet to pull on another shirt but the sound of a creak from the kitchen runs me back to our room where Brian has begun to drag himself up from bloody floor.

"There's someone here" I whisper.

Brian looks wide eyed for several moments "I thought you said this place wasn't under police watch anymore!" His whisper is as desperate as mine. Slowly I reach down and tug the forgotten blade from the corpse of dear departed Lila and follow Brian to the corridor, separating I sneak the back way into the kitchen, from my vantage point I see two figures drafted in black, one man and one woman from their size I guess, The man is within striking distance, I'm surprised he can't feel the energy revolve around me like sparks, I line up to find to the woman in confrontation with Biney, but that voice…

Deb.

Which means that the man currently moving behind her must be him Lundy, I slide across the floor silently, my booted feet behaving wonderfully as a come within a meter again, This time I do the obvious thing, a good tap on the shoulder and a deep slice through the jugular. The blood spurts at me again as Deb, hearing Lundy in death throes turns around and flicks the dingy light switch on and the end is illuminated. I must look like death, shirtless covered in the blood of four people, not that she could tell, and with an utterly maniacal grin distorting and melding my features into their true selves.

Her face is priceless; she starts with horror but goes through the seven stages of grief in a short thirty seconds, she finally settles on despair as a feel a presence at my right.

"Hey Deb!" my voice is the jovial tone it usually is but the illusion is shattered, she can tell its fake, It's rather obvious really but desperate people always hold onto hope.

She gapes at me, her face again screwing into one of agony; well I did just kill her boyfriend.

"He was a bit of a douche Deb, I mean come on, camera's?" I know I'm being cruel but I've made my decision, I belong with blood, literally and figuratively, she can't give me that. Biney can. Her desperate sobs sober as the gun in her hand quakes under the multiply shivers reaming through her body. Her lips move but all I can hear are spluttered hitches of breath, But Brian hears.

"Why? Is that a serious question? He would have never chosen you, you filthy whore!"

I swing around to look at him, his eyes flaming of pure hatred and jealousy. He really is a good actor.

"He's like me, and if you hadn't already figured out… far worse. Those what 38? People, bin bags full of various parts? You've seen the link, worked it out ages ago but have done all you could to deny. It's so hard though, because deep down you know, have always known,' your' brother isn't right. Everything so orchestrated, the mini slips during his teens, and well… harry?" Deb sobs again. "Harry he never paid attention to you did he. And those trips? Well Dexy came back so calm, so… normal. You didn't question them. Hunting was so fun back wasn't it Dexter?" I grunt in affirmation "It's just had a… upgrade."

In for the kill.

"People are just so. Much. More. Fun."

She screams the most earth, shattering, gut wrenching, and honestly suicidal scream ever imaginable and falls to her knees in the pool of her lover's blood. My brother's smirk is wide; he is enjoying destroying my sister, rotting her from the inside out. I can't find sadistic humour in the death of the light and hope in her eyes, the attachment between us has dwindled yet the bloody torn string that links us is still there. So I stand back and watch as Brian cuts her down, scarring, maiming her without end.

"… piece of shit lover, tell me? Was he better than me? Did he lick you out? Take good care as he fucked you all sweet night long? Did he coo you into bed and tell you he loved you? Just like I did?"

A final scream of agony

My mouth acts before my mind,

"NO!"

The block of lead hits him dead centre on the forehead, crimson blood seeps from the hole but he's gone. My brother, my kin, dead. Brain matter shatters out the back of his skull as it flies into my bare chest. I collapse, anguish takes over me, I cry out, and at last the last thread of sanity snaps as I'm left shaking with fury and desolation on the bloody tile.

I move swiftly, burying my blade deep into my sister's taunt stomach, she staggers back, the shock and pain evident on her twisted face, so it take her a few moments to shoot me in return.

I don't feel the pain, I only laugh as I feel the blood pumping out of my heart onto the black and white tile, soiling it with yet more fluid. With one last look at my sister I finally feel peace, The last sound the ebbs away is the sound of sweet sirens coming ever closer, I guess they found the camera footage after all...