Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of its characters. That honor belongs to Anthony Zuiker and many others.

A/n: So, this is my Halloween fic, which was meant to be a one shot, but decided it would rather not be. :P:P We'll see where it goes together, shall we? Reviews are appreciated. :D:D

"Are you okay?" Sharon Story looked up into the concerned eyes of David Jacobs. Her stomach flipped with dismay as she realized that the boy she'd had a crush on since freshman year was talking to her and she was curled around the toilet of his fraternity.

"Uh, ye-yeah. I-I'm fine." She said, then cringed inwardly. Duh, he can see you're not fine. But, maybe it would make him go away. Anything to get him to go away. She so hated being seen like this. And by HIM! Closing her eyes, she prayed he'd be gone when she opened them. After long moments of silence, she opened them again and nearly fainted at the sight before her. He was still standing there, but there was blood running down from a slash across his throat, and he was slowly falling to the ground. Sharon watched in horror as he crumpled in the doorway.

The music blared from the speakers, drowning out the scream that was coming from upstairs. When someone did hear it, they ignored it. It was a Halloween party after all, and a few screams made the party better. It wasn't until a girl came running down the stairs, still screaming and trailing bloody footprints that anyone took notice. They watched as Sharon collapsed in the entry way, heaving what was left of the contents of her stomach, and yelling that David Jacobs had been killed.

Grissom slammed the door shut and started up the walk, ignoring the stares of the teens crowded around the lawn. Jim stood at the doorway awaiting his approach. "Sorry to call you in early, but the swing shift was tapped out, what with Sara being off toni..." Brass stopped as he realized just exactly what this may have interrupted. "Well…ur... I AM sorry, but what can you do?" He rushed on to the particulars of the case. "So, girl comes screaming down the stairs, trailing blood saying that a boy," Brass looked at his notes, "one David Jacobs had been killed, but when we got here we didn't find a body. We did find a huge pool of blood, but no body, and no trail of blood leading away from the pool. Patrolman figured it was a joke, but the girl is insistent. Figured the only way to get to the bottom of this was get the facts, forensically.

Grissom nodded and followed him inside the house, trying not to think of the vegetable lasagna that was getting cold at home, or of dessert that was going to come after the lasagna. He didn't mind being called into work, but if this turned out to be a hoax he wouldn't be in the mood to be lenient. Skirting the bloody footprints, he and Jim made their way upstairs to the blood pool. He noted that the only trail leading from the blood were the footprints that lead downstairs. He also noted that from the amount of blood in the pool, if it was indeed human blood, the person who lost it wouldn't be walking around. Opening his kit, he took out a testing kit. Taking a sample of the blood, he dropped it on the test strip and waited. Within a couple of minutes, two blue lines appeared. He sighed, and glanced around the area. "Well, looks like there'll be no treats for someone this Halloween.

Sara picked her way through the people standing around the front yard and made her way into the house. She came upon Warrick dusting the staircase for prints. "Hey, find anything interesting?"

Warrick looked up with a warm smile. "Hey, what're you doing here?"

Sara smiled back. "Found myself with a bit of free time. Thought you guys could use some help."

Warrick nodded and turned back toward the newel post. "Well, we can always use that." He grunted with annoyance. "For instance, if you'd been here before you could've asked me why I thought it would be beneficial to dust the staircase banister in a frat house."

"Tons of prints that will probably never lead anywhere?" Sara guessed.

"You got it. Maybe they're having better luck upstairs. We have a body that disappeared, and a pool of blood that has to belong to someone and that someone doesn't have much chance of having a pulse."

A shiver ran down Sara's spine. She looked around, feeling as though she were being watched. Rubbing her arms, she glanced up the stairs.

Warrick smiled, ignoring the tingling at the back of his neck. He put it down to it being Halloween, and being at a scene of a crime. "He's upstairs by the way."

Sara quirked an eyebrow. "Warrick, just because he and I are together doesn't mean that I don't still want to talk to you guys. I miss you."

Warrick cupped her shoulder, and grinned. "I know that, but this isn't one of those times." He said with understanding.

She shrugged. "I'll go say hi, and let him know I'm here, and then I'll get busy." She smiled and started up the stairs, the feeling of being watched following her as she went.

Grissom looked up as she rounded the corner and smiled. "Hey, shouldn't you be at home keeping Bruno company?"

Sara shook her head. "Bruno's tired of me. He practically jumped for joy when I left. So, what's going on here?" She glanced around at the blood pool. "Only one blood trail leading away from the pool, and they belong to the woman who 'discovered' the body?"

"So it seems." He gestured to the hallway. "Lots of prints, which is not unexpected, but do you notice what IS missing?"

Sara looked around. "The witness said that the victim's throat was cut, so where's the arterial spray?" Sara studied the floor. "Only disturbance in the blood pool is the witness's footprints. Bodies don't fall gracefully. It shouldn't be this neat."

"Exactly." Grissom nodded.

Nick came up the back stairs, and strode up to them. "Hey Sar, nice to see you." He turned to Grissom. "No matter how hard I try, I can't find any sign of a murder weapon, or evidence that someone carried one. No blood drops or smears. No bloody fingerprints, and slitting a throat isn't neat. The killer would have blood on their hands. If the test is right, and this is human blood, is it the victims? Or IS there a victim? Remember that case a few years ago that you worked Sara? The woman who wanted to leave her boyfriend, so she faked her death, using blood she'd had drawn over the course of a few weeks? Maybe this kid did the same thing."

Grissom opened his mouth to say something, but was forestalled when screams rent the air coming from the front lawn. As one, they turned and headed downstairs.

TBC...