Almost Home

All the sense of abandonment and all the sense of desire tumbled together in a whirlwind when Brian saw his brother stop in the yard…in their yard. He could tell that the memories were overtaking his darling Dexter and he could tell that they were just as powerful to the other killer. They were what made them the monsters that they were. The way those wolf-like eyes slowly moved from one place to another, staying for so long on a spot that would remind him of a childish game.

“You found me, Dexter!”

When Dexter trembled, Brian knew it was time to reveal himself and as he stepped forward he was overwhelmed by the memories that surrounded him. He could see the innocence in Dexter’s eyes again, and he could taste the sweetness of that thought running down into his heart and striking it in a way that it had long since stopped beating. “Biney.” Dexter said without pause; his mind must have summoned something powerful then because he seemed not to have known that he had spoken.

His mouth was dry, but Brian forced himself to speak, his arms opening slowly to invite an embrace. “You never could pronounce my name…” he whispered, and there was his little brother tight in his embrace, face against his shoulder. Everything was what it was supposed to be again. This was what he had waited so long for, this moment that they were a family again. There was that sick feeling inside of him again; love. This time it was alright, this time, he could forgive himself. This was Dexter, and he had loved Dexter before he had been reborn.

“Love you, Biney!”

Those words whispered at him in the darkness of the night, when his little brother had cried over nightmares and he had comforted him back to sleep with stories about their kitten. It had run away and probably died, but Brian had lied and said it went back to its mommy-kitty. He had spun together a fantasy world that made everything okay for the little boy in his arms, and he would do the same now for the grown man. “We can be together again,” he promised him softly. “And this time, there will be no Harry Morgan to take you away.”

Dexter was making slow sounds, nervous sounds and Brian stroked his hair in attempt to calm him. “Shhh,” He hushed him, but his brother spoke anyway, trying to come back to reality, back to the present for long enough to finish his goal. “Where’s Debra?” He asked. He practically begged for there to be good news, for his aggravating little sister to still be okay. He needed to know she was safe, he needed to know that Brian hadn’t ended this chance they had so soon. His brother was petting him, looking at him with warm chocolate eyes, but not responding. A wail died in his throat because Brian’s lips were against his own.

“She’s fine, Dexter…but forget her for now.” Was she really fine, or was Brian lying to him? What was happening that would make him feel this way? Dexter had never felt so confused and again there were warm hands on him, and it felt…good. Something that it had never been with Rita; he was complete in this embrace…but where was Debra? “I need you little brother, I’ve been without you so long…it’s been more than I can bare.” God, but Dexter felt the same; this was a fever he couldn’t ignore. This was something…something like love.

Love was such an elusive beast for them both, something that always escaped Dexter’s attempts at reaching it and something that Brian had never been willing to attempt till Her. At times, Dexter was certain he felt it for his sister, but not in that way that he was supposed to feel it for a woman, not the way that Brian felt for her. He knew had never felt that for Rita; she was simply pleasant to have around and a good way to cover up his own abnormalities. This deep, painfully hot, lust burning in him, this feeling as if his chest would burst wasn’t entirely pleasant. He felt a lump in his throat and he wanted another kiss. Was love some form of sickness?

He’d tried to foster these feelings before, this want and desire but he had never desired so much contact as he did now when he kissed Brian again. Hands were embracing him, pulling him close into a hug and lips were against his neck. The nuzzling was warm and it felt good, then the gentle bite at his throat through him overboard. He needed…he needed to be touched intimately and he could tell that his brother was more than willing to do things like that for him. “Please, Brian, where is Debra?” He begged; he needed that fear to be banished to continue.

“Out back.” Brian hissed, and he ran his hands through Dexter’s hair, caressing him and cherishing the feel of the younger man. “She’s in the garden, smoking a cigarette and…coming to terms with what we are.” He explained; there was no need to explain her tears or to try to control them. She would cry while the brothers reunited, she would wonder if this was incest, she would wonder if she would be forgotten, and most of all she would wonder about love. Was she going to receive it? Was it all a hoax? She would smoke till her throat was hoarse but it wouldn’t help her.

Would she wonder about the killings? Could Officer Morgan push her need for love away long enough? Brian doubted so; and he understood how all consuming love could be. He had done so much to be here now, holding his little brother tight and promising to never let go. He hadn’t let go so long ago, he promised, he had been forced by people who would never understand them. The stories about the foster families could wait, the stories about the longing to be whole again could wait. All of the memories would leave him for now because here was little Dexter, all cuddled close and there was a need that was arising in them both.

Brian could fulfill that need now; he could flame the fire as Rita never could. That want, that urge, that could all be taken in a way that Dexter had never known. “Come inside, little brother.” Brian whispered and it only took them minutes to find the bed and to reunite in that way.

Outside, on the back patio, Debra wept. She could hear the moans and the screams through the open windows and she sobbed. Her ring still glistened in the darkness, illuminated by the glowing ember of her cigarette. Rings had always meant that everything would be alright to her; they had symbolized a stability she had longed for, a completed circle. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life; she was going to be married and start a family. But she could hear the sound of the family she was going to face, the screams of her fiancé being fucked by his own brother and the springs of the bed mocking her as it happened.

Debra doubted she would ever be happy, but as she always had done, she would put on a happy face and she would pretend to be strong. She would pretend that she was confident in the so-called love she was being offered; confident in the affection of a brother just as demented as her lover. She would be strong enough to deal with this; strong enough to accept that she could never find what she so longed for. Rudy had given her the best he could, and as she lit another cigarette she struggled to accept that it was the best she would ever have. Debra wiped away her tears and swore to herself that she would make this into her own heaven. Debra refused to be damned, and as the door opened, she summoned a smile past the tears.

“Come inside.” Her family called for her, and she obeyed.