Dexter

Stephie

Spencer stood in the doorway of the briefing room, where I was trying to keep myself busy, sorting files. His face pale, his hand clutching an envelope. He hadn't said a word in the last few hours we've at the office, just pacing back and forth like something was chasing him. My heart clenched when I saw the look in his eyes — fear. I'd seen it in him before, but never like this.

"Spence?" I asked, my voice small, already knowing I wasn't going to like the answer.

He didn't move for a moment, just stood there, frozen. Then, wordlessly, he walked over to me, setting the envelope on the table between us. I stared at it for a second before reaching out, the weight of whatever was inside already sinking into my stomach.

As soon as I tore it open, I wished I hadn't.

There was a note inside, addressed directly to Spencer in jagged, messy handwriting I wish I recognized it. My hands shook as I read the words.

"I'll deal with your wife first. Then I'll come for you."

Attached to the note was something worse — a photo. My ultrasound. The one we had pinned on the fridge, the one we'd looked at together with so much hope, so much excitement for what was to come. Except now it was smeared with what looked like blood, a cruel reminder that nothing was safe, not even in our own home.

The room spun, my heart hammering in my chest. I looked up at Spencer, his face twisted with guilt and fear. He didn't need to say anything. I knew who it was from. Cat.

"How did she...?" I couldn't finish the sentence. My voice cracked, tears threatening to spill as I tried to hold on to some semblance of control.

Spencer dropped into the chair beside me, his hands trembling as he reached for mine. "She was inside our house," he whispered, his voice thick. "Fuck, Steph."

The world felt like it collapsed in on itself, the air knocked out of me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. My mind raced back to every moment Cat had tormented Spencer, but this... This was different. She wasn't just threatening me — she knew about the baby. Our baby.

Hotch's voice broke through the chaos, though I hadn't even heard him come into the room. "Stephie," he said, his tone firm, but there was a weight in his words that sent a chill down my spine. "You need to get far away from here. From Spencer."

I blinked at him, feeling like I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Leave Spencer? The thought made my stomach churn, but I knew Hotch was right. Cat wasn't going to stop. She was coming, and she wouldn't stop until she had me — or worse, until she took everything from me.

"I'm not leaving him," I muttered, my voice unsteady.

"You have to," Hotch said, more insistent now. "For your safety, for the baby. We'll protect Spencer, but she's after you."

I turned to Spencer, the fear in his eyes mirroring mine. Neither of us said a word. But in that moment, I knew we were both thinking the same thing: this wasn't just about us anymore.

"Stephie needs to go, far away from here." He looks at Spencer now, as if he's expecting Spencer to be the one to force me out.

Spencer looks at me as Hotch finishes his sentence. We all know he's right, that with Cat out I should get the hell out of dodge for a little bit, especially with me being pregnant.

"To where Hotch? There's no where we can put her where Cat won't find her. We should just stay right here in the office." Spencer is not thinking straight, clearly.

I've thought about this a few times. What I would do if Cat got out, what I would do when she finally comes for me.

"I have a friend in Miami." I speak up, I know this is a long shot and it's been years since i've even seen him but it's worth a chance.

"Who?" Hotch looks at me and I just nod my head.

"His name is Dexter, we met in college. He works for the Miami Metro Police Department, he's a forensics blood splatter analyst. It's been a while but he'll understand."

Spencer shakes his head.

"Spence,"

"No, no way. You haven't seen this Dexter guy in years."

"He's a good guy." I give him a look of defeat, we're kind out of options.

"Dexter will understand, I can call him right now. He'll be more than willing to help. He always said if I ever need him, just call. We need him." I pull my phone out and scroll through my contacts I know I kept his number, I just hope he kept mine.

I find Dexter's number in my phone, relief washing over me. He's the only person I know besides the team and my aunt. Spencer's still shaking his head, pacing in front of me. I can feel the tension rolling off him.

"Steph, I don't like this. You're pregnant. You can't just run off to Miami to stay with some guy you knew in college," he says, frustration lacing his voice.

"Spence, it's not like that. You know it's not like that. Dexter is... different. He'll keep me safe, and he'll keep our baby safe. We don't have time for another option."

Hotch steps forward, his expression unreadable. "Stephie's right, Spencer. We can't afford to wait. Cat is unpredictable, and Stephie's connection with you makes her a target. You know that. I'll have Garcia run a background for you."

Spencer's jaw clenches as his eyes dart between me and Hotch. "I know, but—"

"I need you to trust me on this one, okay?" I step closer to Spencer, placing a hand gently on his arm. "We both know I can't stay here. It's not safe. And Dexter... he's not just some guy. He's... well, he's good at what he does. He's always been a protector."

Spencer exhales, his hand reaching up to run through his hair. "And if Cat finds out?"

"She won't," Hotch interjects. "If Stephie keeps a low profile and stays with this friend, she'll have the better chance."

I pull Spencer into a hug, feeling the weight of his worry. "I'll call you every day. I promise."

After a long pause, Spencer finally nods. "Fine. But I'm coming with you to Miami, just to make sure everything's safe."

"Spence..."

"No arguments."

I smile softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Okay."

I step back, dialing Dexter's number, and wait, hoping he'll pick up. On the third ring, a familiar voice answers.

"Dexter Morgan."

"It's Stephie," I say, my heart racing. "I need your help."

There's a brief silence on the other end, and for a moment, I'm afraid he's going to hang up.

"Stephie," Dexter finally says, his voice laced with surprise. "It's been a long time."

"I know," I admit, "but I wouldn't be calling if it weren't important. You still in Miami?"

Another pause.

"Yeah," he says, his voice calm but intense. "I'm in Miami. Come when you're ready."

He always knows what i'm gonna ask before I even ask it. It's always been like that. I hang up, feeling the weight of what's to come. Spencer looks at me, concern etched into every line of his face.

"I'll pack my things," I say softly.

As I gather my things in the dimly lit office, Hotch pulls Spencer aside. I don't need to hear what they're saying to know it's about me — about the risk, about the unknown. But there's no more time to hesitate. Cat's out there, and she's not the type to wait.

Spencer walks over to me, the tension still clear in his stiff posture. His eyes, however, are softer now, more resigned. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to go."

"I do, Spence. We both know it."

He looks at my belly, then back at my face, a mixture of fear and love. "Okay. But we stick together, right?"

"Always."

Garcia's voice crackles over the intercom, interrupting the heavy silence. "Uh, I hate to break the moment, but I've got the info on Dexter Morgan. Clean as a whistle, background is practically spotless, no red flags."

Hotch catches my eye. I trust Dexter, even if I can't explain why.

I glance at Spencer. "You heard her. Clean enough."

He lets out a reluctant sigh but doesn't protest.

We board a late flight to Miami that evening. The atmosphere between us is tense but quiet, as if the gravity of what's coming is too much to put into words. Spencer sits close, his hand resting protectively on my leg. Every now and then, I catch him glancing at my stomach, as if mentally reminding himself what we're fighting for.

"Steph," he whispers, his voice breaking the silence, "I hate that we have to do this. I hate that you're in danger because of me."

"Spence," I turn to face him fully, "Cat would have come for me, regardless of you. This isn't your fault. I'm going to be okay." I lie to him because this is his fault, if he would've played by the rules we wouldn't be here but what's done is done.

His grip tightens slightly, but he nods, forcing a small smile. "Miami better be worth the hype."

I smile back, leaning into his shoulder. "It will be."

When we land, the Miami air is thick and warm, sticking to our skin as we step out of the airport. Spencer insists on driving the rental car, so I give him the address Dexter sent. He's quiet during the drive, eyes scanning every passing car as if Cat herself might pop out at any second. I can tell he's still on edge, but we're here now, and there's no turning back. Spencer will be leaving as soon as he knows I'm safe here.

Dexter's house is tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, an unassuming place that looks almost too normal for the storm brewing inside us. Spencer pulls the car into the driveway and kills the engine. For a long moment, neither of us moves.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice low.

"As I'll ever be."

We step out, and before I can knock, the door swings open. Dexter stands in the doorway, his face a mask of calm that I remember all too well. He hasn't changed much since the last time I saw him — same sharp eyes, same composed demeanor.

"Stephie," he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Long time no see."

I nod, my heart racing for reasons I can't quite place. "Dex."

He glances past me to Spencer, sizing him up in that quiet, deliberate way Dexter always has. "This must be the Husband?"

Spencer tenses but nods, offering a polite smile. "Spencer, nice to meet you."

Dexter steps aside, gesturing us in. "Come on in."

As we step inside, Dexter's house feels oddly peaceful, almost too quiet. The decor is simple and modern, not at all what you'd expect from someone who deals with crime scenes every day. It's strange to think about what Dexter's job actually entails—blood spatter analysis. I've always thought it was an unusual profession, but to me, he's just Dexter, the same guy I've known since college.

Spencer stands beside me, still tense, his eyes flitting around the space like he's expecting trouble. I can tell he's not comfortable, but I need him to leave. The longer he stays, the more danger we're all in—and I'm not about to risk that.

Dexter's calm gaze shifts between us. "I'll make sure she's safe, Spencer. You don't have to worry."

Spencer shoots him a look, somewhere between wary and reluctant. "I'm staying until I know she's safe."

I give Spencer a look, exhaling softly. "Spence, please. We talked about this."

His frown deepens, his jaw clenched. "I don't like this, Steph."

"I know, but the longer you stay, the more dangerous it gets. Cat's not stupid. She'll figure things out fast." I step closer, my voice gentle but firm. "You need to go. For me. For the baby."

Spencer's eyes flicker with fear and hesitation, but deep down, he knows I'm right. Slowly, he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath. "Okay... But you'll call me. Every day."

"Every day," I promise.

Reluctantly, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his hand lingering protectively on my stomach. "I love you."

"I love you too."

With one last glance at Dexter, who stands patiently in the background, Spencer heads for the door. I can feel the tension in the room lift as soon as it closes behind him. Finally, it's just me and Dexter.

Dexter watches me quietly, the same calm, composed demeanor I remember. "You two seem solid."

"We are," I say, though my voice wavers a little. "He's just worried. You know how it is."

Dexter nods. "He should be."

I meet his gaze, feeling a familiar connection between us—the kind of understanding that doesn't need words. Dexter has always been different, but I've never questioned it. Not like I do with others. I guess because he's always been there for me, always someone I could count on. It's a little strange, sure, how good he is at handling crime scenes and blood spatter, but I've never really thought much beyond that. It's just Dexter's thing.

"You've changed," Dexter says, watching me closely. "It's been a long time."

"You too," I counter, raising an eyebrow. "Still working for Miami Metro?"

"Yeah," he says, his tone casual. "Keeps me busy."

I settle into one of his chairs, starting to relax a little now that Spencer's gone. "I bet. You always had an eye for the weird stuff."

Dexter chuckles softly. "It's a living."

I roll my eyes. "Sure, because blood spatter analysis is just your average 9-to-5."

His smile is small, but genuine. "What about you? Still with the BAU?"

I nod. "Yeah, it's intense. But I love it. Although..." I place a hand on my stomach, a sudden wave of emotion hitting me. "Things are going to change soon. This job, it's dangerous."

Dexter's eyes soften as they flicker to my belly. "Wow." He's surprised, I would be too. I just flashed him my little 4 month baby bump. "You'll be a great mom, Stephie."

"Thanks." I smile, feeling a little warmth at his words. "You know, you've always been like an older brother to me."

"You've always been like a little sister," he replies, his voice warm in that rare way he saves for people he cares about.

For a moment, it feels normal—like we're just two old friends catching up, and not two people dealing with a psychopath. Dexter's calm presence, as always, helps settle the chaos in my mind. He's always had that effect on me, even if I never understood how.

"So," I ask, leaning back into the chair, "what's new with you? Still solving murders with blood spatter?"

He shrugs, his casual demeanor still intact. "Pretty much. It's been busy, but nothing out of the ordinary."

I shake my head with a laugh. "Blood splatter... You have such a weird job, Dex."

He smirks slightly. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."

"Speak for yourself," I say, still smiling. "You were always good at that stuff. I never quite got how you could be so calm around it."

Dexter doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his voice is steady. "You get used to a lot of things."

I don't question it. It's Dexter, after all. He's always had a way of compartmentalizing things, and honestly, it's probably what makes him so good at what he does. I've always admired his ability to stay so composed in stressful situations, even if it's strange sometimes.

"I'm just glad you're here," I say after a beat. "I wouldn't have called if it wasn't serious."

He nods, his expression softening again. "I told you, if you ever needed me, I'd be there. That hasn't changed."

There's something reassuring about that, something steady in the midst of the chaos swirling around us. I trust Dexter, more than I trust most people. He's always had my back, and I know he'll keep me safe.

"Thanks for this," I say quietly, looking him in the eye. "I owe you one."

Dexter shakes his head. "You don't owe me anything. We're family, Stephie. You know I'd do anything for you."

A soft smile tugs at my lips. Family. It's not something I've had a lot of in my life, but with Dexter, it always felt real. He's the closest thing to an older brother I've ever had, and I know he's someone I can count on, no matter what.

As the night goes on, we talk more—about the past, about life, about everything and nothing.

As the night deepens, the warmth of Miami seems to press in on us, blending with the calm of Dexter's house. We sit on his back porch, looking out at the quiet night sky. Dexter hands me a glass of water, his usual calm demeanor unchanged, and I take it gratefully, feeling the tension of the last few days start to unwind, if only slightly.

Dexter leans back in his chair, his eyes scanning the horizon like he's reading something in the dark that no one else can see. "So, how long do you think you'll need to stay?"

I shrug, swirling the water in my glass. "As long as it takes. Cat's out there, and she's not going to stop until she finds me. I just... I need time. Space. To figure things out."

He nods, taking a sip of his own drink, the silence between us stretching comfortably. "You've always had a knack for getting caught up in the chaos."

I let out a soft laugh. "Guess it follows me around. Or maybe I just have a thing for complicated situations."

Dexter gives a faint smile, his eyes never leaving the horizon. "We all have our complications."

I glance at him, curiosity bubbling up like it always does when I'm around him. "You've never really talked about yours."

He doesn't look at me, but there's a slight shift in his posture. "You never asked."

"I didn't think you'd tell me even if I did."

Dexter remains quiet for a moment, then finally glances over at me. "You're probably right."

We both fall back into a quiet rhythm, the sounds of the Miami night filling the space between us. I stare down at my belly, absentmindedly rubbing my hand over the bump. "Dex, you've always been the calmest person I know. It's like... nothing ever rattles you."

He tilts his head, considering my words. "I've had a lot of practice."

"Practice," I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "At what? Keeping everything buried?"

He doesn't respond immediately, and I wonder if I've crossed a line. But then he surprises me by speaking. "Keeping control."

"Control..." I muse, feeling the weight of his words. "That's what it's always been for you, hasn't it? Control over everything."

Dexter finally meets my gaze, his face unreadable. "Sometimes that's the only way to survive."

I don't press him further, sensing this is as close to personal as Dexter will allow himself to get. Instead, I lean back in my chair, feeling the exhaustion of the day wash over me. "I always thought you were a little too good at handling blood spatter," I tease lightly, trying to break the tension.

Dexter chuckles softly, but there's something darker beneath it. "Everyone has their talents."

I laugh too, though something about the conversation lingers in the air between us, thick with unspoken things. "Thanks for doing this, Dex," I say after a beat, my voice quieter. "I know it's putting you at risk too."

He shakes his head. "I don't mind. You've always been like another sister  to me, Stephie. I told you, if you ever needed me, I'd be here."

Family. It's a word that still feels strange, even after all these years. But with Dexter, it feels... real. Something unbreakable, even if we haven't spoken in years. I smile at him, a genuine warmth spreading through me.

"Does it ever get easier?" I ask after a moment, my voice soft.

Dexter raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"All of it. Life. The danger. The chaos."

He looks at me for a long moment, and there's something almost sad in his eyes. "You learn how to live with it," he says finally. "But it never really goes away."

I nod, his words settling somewhere deep inside me. We sit there in silence for a while, the night air cool against our skin, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Dexter, calm and composed as always, and me, trying to figure out what my next move is—where I go from here.

"Stephie," Dexter says quietly, breaking the silence. "Cat won't get you here, but you know I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, right?"

I glance over at him, seeing the seriousness in his eyes, and for the first time since all of this started, I feel a flicker of hope. "I know," I say softly, and this time, I mean it. "I trust you, Dex."

He gives me a small nod, and in that moment, I know I made the right choice in coming here. No matter what happens next, I have Dexter. And for now, that's enough. It has to be.

"So, how's Deb's?" I turn and look at him, he nods his head, that same emotionless face he always has on.

"Uh, she's good...got moved to homicide finally."

"Got a girlfriend?" I can't help but tease when I know that answer is going to be no, Dexter doesn't date. He never has.

"Yeah actually, Rita." I'm shocked to say the least.

"Dexter Morgan dating?" I almost do a full 360 to look at him as I chuckle.

"Alright, alright, You should get some rest," he says, his voice quiet but firm. "You've had a long day."

I nod, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over me. "Yeah, I think you're right."

He stands, gesturing toward the guest room down the hall. "I've set up the room for you. Make yourself at home, Stephie. I'll be close if you need anything."

I follow him inside, my steps slow and heavy. Before I enter the room, I glance back at Dexter, who lingers in the hallway. "Thanks, Dex. For everything."

He offers a small nod, the kind that says more than words ever could. "Get some sleep."

As I close the door behind me and sink into the bed, I realize how safe I feel here. Safer than I have in days. Dexter may be mysterious and weird to most people, but I trust him—always have. No matter how much time passes he'll be the one person I can come back to like no time has passed at all.

———————AN: Hope you guys have watched Dexter before or have at least heard of it. If not it's currently on Netflix and I love it!! I definitely recommend!

Anyway, this crossover is taking place during season one of Dexter. In our time this does not make sense but for story purposes that's how it is!

It is currently February 2012, Spencer is 30 as of October, and Stephie will be 30 in March.