Back at Brian's apartment, Brian wakes up on his own rack, in his own personal freezer. Dexter comes in and says, "Hey." Brian doesn't say anything. "You weren't supposed to wake up." "I guess not." "Sorry. The police recorded all your knives as evidence. Took a while to find your dinner flatware." Dexter puts a big box on the table. "Sterling," says Brian, nonchalantly. "I keep it for special occasions." Dexter puts the big blood bin under Brian's head. "Which you are," says Dex. Dexter says Brian can have more tranquilizers if he wants: "It's a service I don't usually offer." Brian smiles and says, "What am I, one of your victims, now? You gonna collect a little sample of Biney's blood for your slide collection?" "You're not a trophy. But you need to be put down." "Why? Because of your code?" "And the safety of my sister." Brian reminds him that Deb's not his real sister, again. "I know that!" Dexter yells. A tear rolls out of Brian's right eye. "You should know this isn't easy for me," says Dexter, seeing this. "You've done more to deserve my knife than anyone." Dexter crouches down and touches his forehead to Brian's. He's crying now. "And you're the only one I've wanted to set free." "You're the one who needs setting free, little brother. Your life is a lie. You'll never be what you --" Dexter slits his throat with what I think is a butter knife, and Brian looks surprised. After letting out a guttural noise of combined relief and mourning, Dexter says, "Sorry. I can't hear anymore, 'cause you're right." Dexter falls back into the corner, holding the switch that elevates the rack, which he flips. As Brian gets flipped upside down, and his carotid artery fountains blood into the pan below, Dexter sobs, probably for the first time in a really long while.