A/N: This is my first attempt on this kind of stuff. I mean, sure, I've done angst (anyone who's read my stories, knows that I've certainly done angst *g*), but this is the first time I try this... crime thing, what ever it is that you want to call it. Well, here goes. Tell me to forget about it if it completely sucks.

An Old Friend

-Chapter One-

He watched the long blade of the knife gleam in the narrow light of the moon that filtered through the blinds, whirled it around in his hand. It wasn't pure, the blade wasn't. It was smutted with blood.

He glanced at the two bodies lying on the bed. Oh, they had been sleeping so peacefully, dreaming about their happy lives in the suburb and about their secret fantasies that had nothing to do with it, and then... WHAM! He gloried with the memory of her screaming, surprised and shocked, when he'd done her husband, her husband lying on the bed next to her, she'd screamed when she'd known that she'd be next. Then she shut up. For good. Wham. That annoying little bitch just wouldn't stop screaming. Her fault, it was. She should've stopped screaming years ago and this wouldn't have happened.

He dropped a little note on the bed next to the bodies.

He had just picked up this little habit of his, he'd only used it once before. He liked the thought that someone who'd look at it would realize 'This is him again'. It made him feel satisfied. "Another one," the note said. Plenty to go, it should've had, but he didn't want to give too much clues. Too much clues would be no fun. He liked to surprise.

A little happy grin flickered on his face as he put the knife back to his bag and left the house whistling.

***

"What do we have here?" Grissom asked from Brass as he met him on the yard halfway to the house.

The yard was full of police cars and, even when it was three o'clock in the morning, there were a group of people packed behind the barrier that the cars made. Some officers were interviewing them. Grissom nodded towards the crowd. "Any eyewitnesses?"

Brass shook his head. "No." He started leading the other man towards the house. A little further away he saw Nick Stokes jogging towards them, and he didn't start explaining before he caught up with them. "We have a double murder; a married couple killed into their bed. The man was stabbed to the neck, he was apparently killed immediately. The woman got three stab wounds in her chest."

"Who found them?" Nick inquired.

Brass pointed towards an older woman who was standing next to a police car little further away from the other people. "Their neighbor. Her bedroom is just opposite theirs. She heard the wife screaming and called the police."

"She didn't see anything?"

"No. Just a shadow behind the window. Ready to go in?"

Grissom raised his hands in the air. "Lead the way."

They entered the house. If the yard was crowded, the house was even more so. There were officers all over the place. Brass led them through the hall and to the bedroom.

The room was painted with light colors and decorated skillfully. It would've been a nice room, charming and calming, if it weren't for one thing; the bed full of blood in the middle of the room. The bodies on the bed seemed as if they were only sleeping, but they were covered with red. They must've been taken completely by surprise. Grissom took a deep breath before stepping in. He had to admit that he'd never get entirely used to seeing corpses.

Then his eyes landed on something. He put his gloves on and took a step closer. It was something white on the pillow where the blood hadn't reached. He leant to pick it up. A note. He read it.

"What is it?" Nick asked.

Grissom handed the note to him. "I think we have a serial killer in our hands."

TBC....

Ps. Go ahead, review and tell me if I'm going totally wrong with this.