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Dark Passenger

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This story is No. 2 in the series "One Last Shot AU". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Buffy and Willow take a much needed holiday. What could possibly happen?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Dexter(Past Donor)WhedonistFR15941,81756215,45926 Oct 0921 Dec 09Yes

Heroes & Villains

A/N: Good Morning Folks,

There are a few things I wanted to say before you read. First of all, I’d like to extend a big hearty thank you to those of you that have read. A double thank you to those that have taken the time and reviewed. Secondly, I hope you’ve enjoyed t he tale. This is the final chapter in this piece, but there’s more to come. I’m eight chapters into the next story in this A.U.

Other than that, I don’t have much else to say…Take care and Happy Holidays, may yours be less hectic than mine. =0)



Chapter 9 – Heroes & Villains

I shrug off the fatigue and annoyance of the last few hours to check the restraints one more time. I still can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t know why I agreed.

It’s sheer insanity. Buffy’s brain needs checked that much is obvious.

I give the ropes one final hard tug to make sure nothing’s lose and for some reason I flash back to what feels like forever ago. Instead of Dexter’s mildly frightened features, I see Spike sitting smugly in the tub. I see the peroxide bleached hair slicked back and the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I smell the microwaved cow’s blood. I shake off the annoying vision to refocus on Dexter’s wide eyed look of disbelief.

Maybe if I was him I’d be just as skeptical. I know I’m trying to figure out why we can’t turn him in, call his sister or do something besides feel trapped in a lose–lose situation.

I try for reassuring and say, “We’d offer you a more comfy spot, but…” I trail off at his look…Right that helped. What the hell was I thinking?

And we’re right back to screwy brained Buffy.

He smiles tightly, nodding his acceptance of the situation. I shrug. Least he’s smart enough to accept what’s going on.

Shoving a pillow behind his back I cover him up with the blanket. Not the best solution for stowing away a captive, but it’ll do for now. Leaving the small light above the sink on, I turn the main light out. I crack the door to the bathroom and make my way over to the bed.

Well, at least something’s are consistent. I can still keep someone against their will with the best of them. Nice to know I haven’t lost all my skills.

Willow’s still huffing around. She’s removed the restraints from the chair and the bed. They’re in a pile over by the trash can.

I blink and clear my vision as the exhaustion returns full force. The headboard creaks slightly as I slump against it. I watch her pace the length of the room, snatching the few pictures of the dead girls off the dresser and regret slithers its way into my gut.

I’ve spent time, lots and lots of time wishing that things were different that I’d acted faster or done something different, but held off because of the sheer wackiness that revolves around my existence. What was my biggest regret moves around agitated at the situation we’ve found ourselves in.

And that’s the other thing, this thing. I shouldn’t have waited. She’s beautiful, she loves me and like an idiot I didn’t do what I intended to because…

Because I’m a moron.

I sit up straighter and reach for my duffle bag at the foot of the bed.

Ya know…

There’s this point in your life where you either clue up or you end up with a permanently useless stubbed toe. I think I’m clueing up. I’m tired of waiting until things get better. The long of the short is that they don’t.


It’s one thing after another. A tug at the corners of my mouth causes me to smile as I watch my Will move through our room annoyed and not just a little bit shaken. I get it. Reaching in, I remove the small box from its hiding place and slip it under my pillow.

Waiting for the right moments just don’t come. There’s never a right moment. You just gotta do it. I waited to tell her how I felt about her and that cost me years of happiness. It cost her lots too. I waited to propose to her and look where that got me.

It got me here watching her agitation mount into a full on Wiccan wig. I rally my strength and get off the bed. Crossing the room in a few long strides, I stop her from moving anymore. I look up into tired green eyes and try for the half smile thingy that I know she likes.

“Will, I think we’ve done what we can for tonight,” I whisper softly. I don’t need Dexter overhearing any of this. “Come to bed with me?”

Her face loses some of the tension and she nods, grabbing my hand. We quickly disrobe and slide under the covers. Switching off the bedside lamp, I turn and slip my arms around her in an embrace that I’ve mastered over the years. I spoon with her. My front to her back as my right arm strokes the smooth skin of her tummy.

My ministrations have the desired effect and soon she’s melted into me. I suppress my ego and instead kiss my way up her neck. Her purr of approval spurs me along. Stroking up her side, I let my hand wander and play with the bits of flesh it touches.

“Hey, Will?” I whisper into her ear. Her response is a throaty moan as her bottom presses harder into me. I stifle my own moan and muster up resolve. “I, well, we…” lamely, I trail off…Christ, Summers pull it together.

I had words for this. I had this planned out. Now it’s shot to hell and I’m losing any nerve I found.

I know she feels the tension spike and she turns in my arms pressing against me now front to front. Her eyes search mine as she smiles encouragingly.

I gaze back and find the backbone I lost. I trace the side of her face and lazily make my way down her jaw line. “What I was trying to say, is just…I’ve been…there have been thoughts. Good thoughts. And part of this vacation was to tell you about those thoughts.”

She smiles warmly at my less than stellar attempt at articulation. Mustering up more of the backbone that’s not, I continue, “We’ve known each other a while Will. We’ve been together for a while too. And with what I do. What I am. I don’t - waiting isn’t a good. It’s bad. And when I’ve waited, ya know, not made with the seizing, I’ve regretted it.”

Shifting slightly, I reach under my pillow and grab the box. I resist the urge to just thrust the damn thing into her hands. Instead I look to her and meet her curious gaze. “The night we found the first body, I had something planned. It got ruined and now after tonight, after coming as close as we did to losing our lives, again. I’m done. Perfect moments probably don’t exist unless you make’em. So I’m making mine.”

Revealing the box in my hand, I lift the lid and expose the ring inside. As cheesy goes, I figure I’m safe. I haven’t told her she’s the wind beneath my wings, started crying or any of the other lame things I’ve seen people do when they propose. “I know it’s not really legal-legal, to ask you to be my wife, but I’ll take life partner. Then when legal is legal for us to do the wife bit, I’d like to…so uhm, will you?”

Her smile lights up the darkened room and I can see the unshed tears pool in her eyes. All I need is the slight nod she gives me and I’m tearing the ring out of the box. I take her hand and kiss the knuckle before slipping it on.


How does she do that? How can she surprise me so much after knowing her for so long? I glance down at the ring adorning my left hand. Its silver with a square cut diamond nestled between two teardrop sapphires. I tear my gaze away from the thing I didn’t think I’d ever get. Not that I didn’t think about it. It’s just – well, with what we do – marriage is, it’s not something I thought any of us would do or get to do.

But here it is and here Buffy is asking me for a major commitmenty type thing. I meet her slightly awed hazel eyes. I knew when she stopped me and asked me to come to bed that the argument we had in the hallway was forgotten, forgiven even.

But I didn’t expect this.

I dip my head down and place a soft, loving kiss on supple lips. It deepens as I put my answer and my heart into the embrace. I slide my hands down her small form and cup her bottom pushing us closer together.

The tension from the conversation in the hallway dissipates and I melt. Glad that we decided on minimal clothing, I shift our positions and straddle her thighs. Not breaking the kiss I fumble for her shorts and manage to slip them down her legs to the bottom of the bed. I break off and motion her up to slip off her tank top.

She glances down at the panties I’m wearing and smirks. Her two index fingers hook to the sides and she tugs. The seams give way and before I know it she’s tossing them on the floor. I liked those. I’m about to form a protest but stop as I look at her.

I smile instead and shrug. Deciding that they can be easily replaced and I’ve more important things to concern myself with. Namely the blonde beneath me and intense tinglies.

The little bit of ambient light shadows her, but I don’t need much to see the look on her face. My eyes travel over her body. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever tire of looking at. She’s not perfect, she’s not Hollywood or what most consider to be the perfect female form, but she’s mine. That’s the important part. I’ll take my imperfect beauty over any of the images Hollywood has to offer.

I allow fingertips to slightly graze over sensitive skin, cupping a breast and toying with the erect nub. Her small gasps let me know my attentions are having the desired effect. I move slowly, not wanting to rush any of this. I shift my weight and straddle her thigh, spreading myself open on her tensed muscle. Pressing myself down and using my right thigh to press into her center, I lean down to capture her lips.

I seal my lips to hers and she flexes her thigh bringing it up to meet my short downward thrust…

And I’m…


Wha…? My eyes flutter open as I respond to Buffy calling my name softly. I’m nestled in the crook of her arm and we’re kinda sticky. I blink and look up at her. She’s smirking down at me while she plays with a strand of my hair.

“Welcome back,” she whispers.

I blush slightly and mumble, “I was here. Right here, missy.”

“Uh-huh,” she placates me, sounding totally unconvinced and way too sure of herself. I’d be to if I were her.

Instead of dignifying her sarcasm with a response, I decide to play and close my lips around the closest nipple, flicking it with my tongue. She groans lightly and I smile around the bit of flesh in triumph.

She pulls me up and kisses me lightly before saying, “Gotta say, Will, if you wanna answer my questions with a yes like that at any other point in the future, I’m so totally up for it.”

“I’ll make a note.” I grin and move so that we’re now on our sides facing each other. I pull her free hand to my chest and kiss the knuckles. “Buff, I…are you sure?”

I want to smack myself in the forehead as soon as the words leave my mouth. Of course she’s sure. Buffy doesn’t do things like this all willy nilly. Of course I’m not sure she’s ever proposed before, but still. This is huge. For her it’s monumentous. I should know better and by the mildly hurt look that crosses her features I know I upset her a bit.

Trying to recover, I scramble, “I mean, well, I know that we have our lives pretty meshy now. It’s just that you and the…” I watch her start to shut down and I know I’m losing her. Great Rosenberg. I need to learn to keep quiet sometimes.

She tries to pull away, but I stop her. “Don’t Buffy. My answer’s a yes, A great, big, loud type yes. It’s just that…I don’t know.”

She comes around slightly at my emphatic yes, but it’s the plaintive ‘I just stuck my foot in my mouth’ look that swings her around fully. As I ready myself to launch into another tizzy, she places her finger against my lips to silence me.

“Will, I get it.” She takes the finger from against my lips to only replace it with a thumb that slides across them in a gentle caress. “I’ve thought about this lots. It’s pretty clear to me that you and I are a done deal. And I just want you to know that I know and I want others to know too.”

She twists around and rummages around in her duffle bag on the floor. Popping back up, she has a manila file folder in her hands. She scooches up in the bed and lays the folder on her outstretched legs to open it. I can’t see much of it in the dark, but I know official legally type papers when I see them. I look up at her slightly confused.

Sensing my unasked questions, she supplies, “I had these drawn up at the beginning of the year. It’s a bunch of legal stuff that pretty much says you get everything I have when I die. All decisions are left in your hands if anything were to happen to me.”

Oh. Uh…

“I know it’s a lot, but with the way things are, I just don’t want to leave it to chance. What if I get hurt and you can’t get into see me. I know that you would somehow, but I don’t wanna take that chance. I don’t want something to happen to me and you get left in the cold because people are stupid and think that we shouldn’t be together.”

Her voice hitches at the last part. I smile sadly at her and nod. I get it. I just – I didn’t think she would have put this much effort into everything. I nod at her to continue and take her hand.

“Jimmy helped with some of it. He got some of the documents that I needed. There’s insurance stuff here to.” She sobers slightly and meets my eyes, continuing, “Will, I know it’s huge, but I’ve thought this through. So no second guessing me. ‘Kay?”

“Okay.” I reach for the file folder and thumb through the documents. I can’t see much, but the headings are clear.

“I…” she stops and tentatively starts again, “I was hedging my bets and had similar paperwork drawn up for you. I’ve signed everything there, you just need to and then it goes to Jimmy’s lawyer to finalize.”

Closing the file, I reach around and place it on the nightstand on my side of the bed. “I’ll sign them in the morning and we can Fed-Ex them to him tomorrow.”

She let’s out a breath I didn’t know she was holding. Her smile’s wide and her eyes shimmer in the darkness. I see one tear begin to make it’s way down her cheek and I catch it with a finger. Caressing the cheek with my thumb, I say, “Does this mean we get to hyphenate our names? ‘Cause that’s gonna make for an awful long name.”

My joke has the desired effect and she laughs, breaking some of the tension.

“Honestly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“We’ll work on it, but this does mean you’re going to have to convert. And just so you know Torah classes are boring.”

She rolls her eyes and I snuggle into her, resting my head on her shoulder.

“Will,” she whispers, “about Dexter and what I said in the hallway…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t.” I stop her. There’s no need to rehash what was said in the heat of an argument. Instead I say, “I know it’s not the best solution, but…”

“What else are we gonna do,” she finishes. “We can’t turn him in. No evidence. We can’t kill him because he’s human. We can’t just let him go ’cause he’s killing people. I get that. I just – do you think giving him the chance is going to work?”

I look up at her and my mouth pinches in thought. I answer honestly, “I don’t know. I know that he deserves a shot and maybe we can turn him around.”

“Will, he’s a sociopath. Sure a cuddly one, but he’s still a killer.”

“And so am I. You didn’t give up on me. You didn’t give up on Angel, Spike or Faith. It’s not fair to give up on him.” My words are soft, intended to prove a point not dredge up bad memories from the past.

“Yeah, but those were different. I just don’t know if pairing him up with a slayer is going to help. I deal with people like him all the time. They don’t change. I don’t think they can.”

I understand. I’ve read the research. I just don’t see any other way out of this. “I think maybe if we can give him a different direction, it may just work. He gets the protection of a slayer and gets to kill things. Things that should be killed.”

She purses her lips and I prepare for another round of arguing. She surprises me by shrugging. Her features soften and she nods. “Maybe. This is – it sucks.”

My agreement is given as I nod slightly. It does suck, but I can’t think of another solution. I’m glad she’s on board. Now all we have to do is convince Dexter to stop killing people and start killing demons. This is going to end well, I just know it.


I’m surprised when I feel the ropes loosen around my body as I slowly become conscious. A small part of my brain wonders why I found the bath tub so comfortable. At this point I really don’t think it matters. ‘Dreaming Dexter’ becomes conscious and Buffy’s hands assuredly pull me from my porcelain bed.

I know they came to some type of resolution last night, but I don’t know what it will be. I can only guess. Turning me in will probably be the best course of action.

If it were me, I’d feed me to a demon and be done with it. I watch wearily as Buffy leads me from the bathroom to the bedroom and out to the living room. Willow sits stoically on the couch. Perched next to her is a girl, no more than eighteen maybe nineteen. My gaze locks with the girl and her eyes belie her age. What should be young innocent eyes staring back at me are not. They’re older than I could have guessed. The eyes of a victim.

Well, no not a victim. But the eyes of someone that grew up too quickly and with not near enough fun. Buffy and Willow have that look to them. I’m sure that I do too if you can look closely enough.

“Sit,” Buffy commands. I dutifully take a seat in the designated chair and await my sentencing. She begins a tight pace across the length of the room. I can see her building up steam to something.

I can only wait.

“You know Dexter, doing what I do. Having done what I did. I thought, I at least hoped, that I had seen all the different types of monsters I was going to. I thought that…hell, I thought I could just - not.” She turns to me, placing her hands on her hips. Her look is - there’s this sea of resignation and regret in her hazel eyes and I can’t help but wonder what she’s going to say.

How I thought this was going to go seems to not be going that way. ‘Disquisitive Dexter’ takes the reins and my Dark Passenger; he perks up from the backseat.

She breaks eye contact and begins softly, “Last night I was reminded that, everyone, no matter who or what they are deserve the chance. They should be given the chance to redeem themselves. Being me. Being a cop, I forgot that somewhere along the way.”

Her voice picks up steam as she passes a glance to Willow. Rounding on me she meets my gaze and it takes everything I have to not shrink into my seat. “So here’s the sitch, this is Siobhan, she’s like me. A slayer. You two are going to work together.”

What? My mind reels. A slayer? What the fuck?

“Buffy, you’re uhm,” Willow’s voice jumps in and she looks back and forth between Buffy, Siobhan and me.

She blushes slightly and stammers, “Right, back story. Will, you wanna take the Watcher speech?”

Willow rolls her eyes and then turns to me, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m gonna keep this short, kay?”

I give her a slight nod, urging her to continue.

“The world is older than you know. Before humans, this place was full of demons, hell beasts. At some point the humans banded together and created a slayer. The slayer was a girl forced to accept the strength, speed and other attributes of a demon. She was also forced to help fight them. To protect Earth and the humans that resided here from them.”

She looks at me to see if I’m following along. Truthfully, I’m on the edge of my seat. I’m eating this up.

My slight nod allows her to continue, “For a very long time, there was only one slayer. Things changed and then there were two. Now, there are lots more, over a thousand helping to control the demon population. Siobhan is one of the thousand and Buffy was the last of the one.”

I nod trying to understand. “So Siobhan is part of the thousands and Buffy…” I trail off looking at her. The one? What kind of Matrix bullshit are they trying to pull? “Like Neo?” I ask, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

I get a triple eye roll and shrink back in my seat.

“No, I’m not Keanu Reeves. I was the last of the singular slayers. My death sophomore year in high school caused a split in the slayer line. It’s been down hill since there,” she says’s the last part wirily, a small smile creeping at the corners of her mouth.

I nod and purse my lips. Oh. “So what does this mean?” My curiosity getting the best of me.

“It means,” Siobhan speaks for the first time. Her accent there but barely, “That you and I are working together.” My guess Irish.

My eyebrows go up at this. “What?”

Buffy runs her hands through her hair and leans into me meeting my startled gaze. “It means that I’m giving you the chance to be less of a monster and to do some real good in this world. You work with our slayer to help take out demons and we don’t have to take you out. We clear?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. They’re gonna let me go? I manage to bypass the frog in my throat and say, “You’re letting me go?”

“No and yes,” Willow says. “We’re giving you a chance to be, to do some real good. You can’t just go around killing humans. It’s not for you to judge them as you see fit. Demons are different. They thrive on true pain and misery. This is a chance for you to be more than what you are. If you’re willing to help.”

The last piece is said with an edge. The threat in the unsaid is clear. I’m not left with much of a choice here. Does the Dark Defender take a partner and go after true live monsters or do I decline and become Dexter the Dead?

It’s really not so much of a choice. My dark passenger is howling at the opportunity to go up against something far more formidable than a human. Having a partner might not be too bad. I flash quickly back to Biney and something tightens in my chest.

I think this may be something we can work with.

The End

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