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Under the Mask

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Darkly Dreaming Suprise". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: It was all he could do to hide the grin that threatened to erupt. It was an invitation.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Dexter(Past Donor)CharlotteFR1312,209252,44528 Feb 0828 Feb 08Yes
First in a series. Not sure how many will follow.

It's all trollprincess' (LJ) fault.

Response to her T-shirt challenge.

Fandom: BtVS/Dexter
Spoilers: Everything for BtVS and Dexter (both seasons)
Characters: Drusilla, Dexter
Rating: PG-13 Just in case.


Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. It's all done in the spirit of fun.

Under the Mask



Dexter rarely found that women fell into his arena, but she had caught his notice a week ago.

He was stalking Juan Dominguez; recently freed murderer and his latest project, when the man stopped off at the local Taqueria. At the time, he hadn’t thought it odd… his distraction at the sight of an English Rose in the midst of little Cuba. Very different from Lila, much more innocent in appearance and just as easily identifiable as English by her features and milky skin. Her voice had been low and nearly hypnotic as she spoke with the gang banger on the corner. The bigger surprise had been the fact that the gang member had been behaving almost gentlemanly. Dexter watched them from the corner of his eye as they walked away, arms linked companionably.

Dominguez had been an easy grab, but his ritual with Juan had been interrupted by a call to a crime scene. The sight of the man, now known to him as Hector Perez; lying in a secluded alleyway increased his heartbeat. Perez’s throat had been torn out and the surprised expression on the man’s face indicated he hadn’t seen it coming.

“Not enough blood.”

Detective Batista crouched down. “What was that Dex?”

“Not enough blood for a wound this size. There should be spatter all over this wall, but… there’s almost nothing, just a little on the ground under him.” There were claw marks as well, which could have been an indication of some type of animal attack, but the lack of significant blood presence on top of no signs of a struggle had Dexter’s mind whirling. The woman he’d seen with Perez wouldn’t have had time to transport his body, drain it of blood and then bring it back. The attack had to have happened on site. His knowledge would have to remain hidden. Dexter’s colleagues were speculating about an Ice Truck Killer copy cat due to the lack of blood.

The truth would most likely be stranger than that.

Batista crossed himself; muttering under his breath, the words too low for Dexter to make out.

‘Where did the blood go?’ A strange sensation in his chest had him pressing his palm against it. His heart was racing. Again. Not as painfully as when he’d been expecting discovery any minute, but he was definitely experiencing it again to a lesser degree. Dexter wasn’t sure he liked it.

Completing the Dominguez cleanup didn’t have the calming effect that Dexter usually experienced. Instead, his thoughts kept straying to the woman he’d seen with Perez.

He went back out the next night and there she was, walking with yet another gang member. It was really no skin off his nose if someone else was picking off members of the local gangs; she was certainly choosing the worst ones. But how was she not drawing their attention? Everyone seemed to be ignoring them as they strolled the sidewalk arm in arm. Everyone but him.

The call came in two hours later. Almost identical M.O. Except for one change.

There was blood spatter this time and his name had been cleverly disguised in the droplets. No one else noticed the way the pattern connected, but Dexter felt his heart speed up once more and it was all he could do to hide the grin that threatened to erupt.

It was an invitation.

He checked every night and finally, after the third night of searching, he found her sitting at a darkened bus stop. The schedules were posted quite clearly and she’d missed the last run by an hour. He took her as she hummed in the dark. She had to have known he was there, but the needle went in without a hitch and her body went into the back of his new car just as easily.

Her lack of a pulse when he unloaded her from his car was disappointing. He was sure he’d measured the dosage correctly. She was already cooling so death must have occurred immediately.

Dexter laid her out on the table and thought about what to do now. He’d only wanted to talk to her. As far as he knew, the woman didn’t meet the Code and so he felt no need to perform his ritual on her body. The tranquilizer had merely been a precaution since he knew she’d killed at least two men.

He took the time to inspect her and noticed her dress was not what women usually wore in the summer heat of Miami. Hell, it wouldn’t be seen in the dead of winter here. It was made of heavy black velvet, with long sleeves and an ankle length skirt. The neckline was something similar to what Rita would wear; provocative, but not overly so. Her hands peeked out from under a lacey cuff; long delicate fingers tipped by impressively sculpted nails.

Nails sharp enough to rip out a throat.

She smelled like fresh blood and patchouli and Dexter thought it was a rather intriguing scent. That ‘new’ blood smell normally didn’t last long. Long dark hair pooled under her head like chocolate and he removed the clip holding it back from her face. Closer inspection revealed it to be quite old and he moved to the side table to see if he could find any trace evidence on it.

It was clean. He turned back to the body and felt his heart attempt to crawl into his throat. She was sitting up. Actually perched on the edge, legs crossed, hands folded neatly on her knees as she watched him with cold blue eyes.

There had to be a logical explanation. Dexter rarely made a mistake, but it was possible that he’d missed her pulse. Maybe the tranquilizer had slowed it enough to give the appearance of death.

He met her eyes and tried to think of the right thing to say. Maybe an apology? Questions were bubbling up to the surface. What had she done with the blood? She smiled and held out her hand and he watched with fascination and more than a little anxiety as his hand met hers, grasping it with a gentle grip. He’d tried to tell himself to step back, but his body wasn’t listening. She pulled him closer with a strength that she shouldn’t have and placed his palm on her chest.

There was a stillness to her body that should not be. She was moving, smiling and yet… No heartbeat, no breath movement; nothing. He blinked; his eyes seemed to be the only things he had control over. She should still be lying on the table but, there she was, looking at him and holding his hand against her tepid skin.

Scattered scenes of cheesy horror movies his sister Deb had forced him to watch as a teen flashed through his mind and the only explanation that fit was vampire.

The realization made him lightheaded. Vampires were real. They were real and there was one not a foot away with his hand in its grip and he was going to die. He really didn’t want to die.

“Dexter.”

“Yes?” His voice sounded breathy and he swallowed, trying to work some moisture around the desert in his mouth.

“Not going to hurt you lovey. You make such pretty splashes with the red. Miss Edith told me to save the whales but I hate to swim. Miami is such a lovely place. Ripe and waiting for violence. I found a lovely boy with a fish on his shirt. We had such fun together.” She gripped his arms and quivered with delight. “Miss Edith said it didn’t count, but he smiled as I ate him.”

Her hand stroked his face and Dexter shivered. Before now, he’d thought his brother was the only predator more dangerous than him. Brian had had no Code and more experience. It hadn’t helped him in the end. The woman wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer, leaning in to rub her nose up his throat. She inhaled his scent with a raspy purr. Dexter’s body tensed involuntarily.

“Dexter?”

Fight or flight, he had no delusion that either choice would be successful. The woman… creature’s strength was more than his and her babbling indicated she was most likely crazy as a loon. He wondered if his family would ever recover from his death. What they would think when he was found in this killing room.

Her voice cooed his name, bringing him back to the present. He should humor her for as long as possible. “Yes?”

“Such a smart boy you are. Drusilla said Truth. Not going to hurt such a talented artist. I see such secrets, so many drops raining from your cutting edge.” She pulled back from his ear. “If I look just so…” She peeked at him from under her dark lashes. “I can see under the mask.” Cold washed over him at the sound of his own words.

Only Brian and, on a much smaller scale; Lila had seen under his mask. Tired of the sick feeling in his stomach, curiosity won out over fear. “What do you see?” He asked.

Her face transformed and looking into her glowing yellow eyes, Dexter felt his fear disappear completely. The detached part of him realized this Drusilla creature had some type of ability to partially hypnotize her victims.

Handy.

“Blood.” Her voice had taken on a guttural tone that sent a fresh round of shivers up his spine. “Such pools of life flowing around you. It touches you, but not the others.”

“What others?”

“The light that keeps your darkness at bay. They push it back so that it does not show through the green. Lovely Rita with her hair of gold, the little children so sweet to behold. Dark eyed Deb to remind you of daddy and the Code.”

Dexter had begun to resist whatever hold she had on him when she began talking about Rita and the kids and Deb. He’d killed his brother to protect them. He certainly wouldn’t let some other soulless blood sucking creature hurt them. They were his.

His hand was wrapped around her throat before realized it was moving and she smiled serenely under the pressure of his grip. According to legend, vampires didn’t need to breathe, but if he could damage her throat enough, maybe he could cut out her heart or remove her head before she recovered.

He should have suspected something was off. In a move too fast to see, she pulled him off and spun him around so that his back was pressed against her front; strong arms holding him firmly against her deceptively delicate body. Dexter felt her breath caress his ear and he strained to break free.

“Shhh. No worries sweeting. Princess won’t play with your pretties.”

Dexter realized there would be no breaking free of her grip and decided to listen. It was his only choice and he just might learn something.

“A caution for you. Listen well, for the stars and moon speak to Drusilla and they tell me you draw attention.”

‘Not more of this silly voodoo nonsense.’

As if she could hear his thoughts, Drusilla tightened her hold painfully. His grunt of pain had her loosening it slightly and she hissed in his ear. “There’s a place so dark you can’t see the end, but it can see you and you shine with such sinister promise. Would be a tragedy to pull the light from you. You can’t feel it, but it’s there dear Dexter.”

Oddly enough, her words were starting to make sense to him. He’d always thought that he’d lost his soul in that bloody container, but if this dark creature was telling him he had one… Her voice took on a crooning tone.

“Your dark passenger is but a whimpering child in the shadow of mine. The thought of burning the world with you makes me all tingly, but you would go mad and so I must be content with the art you make now.”

She kissed his neck and Dexter’s stomach rolled. Somehow he knew that if she were to turn him, his first victims would most assuredly be Rita and the kids. Deb would follow quickly behind. That wasn’t a pleasant thought. They mattered in his life and he didn’t want that to change.

“There are Hunters in this world Dexter. They search for such as I. Keep clear of them. They won’t comprehend your worth.”

She cooed at him and began to hum. It wasn’t a melody he was familiar with, not that he listened to a lot of music.

“In the memory you'll find me,
eyes burning up,
the darkness holding me tightly,
until the sun rises up.”


His vision went black and when he came to, Drusilla was gone.

If he believed in God, he might’ve said a prayer of thanks. Instead he quickly packed up his things and headed home. Rita was expecting him for breakfast.


My T-shirt was:

whales


Lyrics by Linkin Park - Forgotten

The End

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