Disclaimer: I'm a writer, I make my own stuff, but CSI is not my own work. That makes me sad. Fanfic makes me happy, though.

The lights of Vegas shone day or night, but down on street level the jewel of Nevada didn't exactly sparkle with the same lustre that it did from the sky.

"Don't use it all up at once!" A middle-aged man chuckled, handing over an unmarked package to a haggard-looking junkie. The junkie nodded before shuffling away into the night. The man lit a cigarette and leant against the wall, waiting for his next customer.

"Derek Powers?"

The man looked up. "Yeah? What you want?"

"I'm Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle, we're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

Derek nodded. "Yeah, I remember. You wanted to talk to me about Damien? Look, I'm really sorry that he's dead, seeing as he was one of my best customers and all, but I had nothing to do with it."

"We know," Sara said. "But we'd like to ask you a few questions anyway."

Derek blew a plume of smoke up in the air. "Sure, why not? I'll answer any question you ask, sweetheart." He grinned.

Sara blinked, but didn't bite. "Are you the one that supplied Damien's heroine?"

Derek shrugged. "It wasn't all I 'supplied him with', darlin'. Pot, crack, ice, you name it, he tried it. The kid had some issues, y'know?"

"Yeah," Grissom interrupted, a little tersely. "We know. He's dead."

"Hey," Derek held up his hands, defensively, "You said you wanted to ask me questions. I'm going out on a limb here, helping you guys out. You could turn me in for possession, for supplying, y'know? Keep acting like a cop and you ain't getting' nothin' outta me."

"We're not going to get you for anything if you just answer our questions."

Derek looked gratefully at Sara. "Well, thanks for being the good cop, honey. After the questions, you wanna stick around a bit? I could show ya the sights if you want."

"No."

Derek shrugged and took another pull from his cigarette. "I'll be waiting."

Grissom cleared his throat. "So did Damien owe you much money?"

"Piles of it," Derek shrugged. "But so does just about every junkie in town. But I've got muscle, y'know? If I don't like a kid, and the kid I don't like owes me money, I send the boys." Derek poked his cigarette in Grissom's direction. "But Damien? I liked that kid. He owed me, but he wasn't exactly the kind of kid you can get mad at. He was like a son to me, really. When he was having trouble with his girl, he'd come and talk it out with me. When he got fired, I hooked him up with a friend of mine, gave him a chance." Derek sighed. "But the kid had more than just substance addictions, y'know? There was his girlfriend, and then his mistress - money."

"But he didn't have any." Sara frowned.

Derek nodded, grinning again. "Exactly. But whatever he got, he put it into the casinos. He was always saying that one day he'd strike it rich, that one day he'd pay back everything he owed me." Derek shook his head, saddened. "Casinos don't like the kids. They like the money. And their muscle is a lot less caring than mine."

Grissom nodded. "I see."

"Yeah." Derek dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his foot. "I wish I did. I coulda talked him out of it, y'know?"

"Thanks for your time," Sara said, turning away.

"Anytime, doll. Hey, come round here anytime you feel like it! There's more to Derek Powers than just drugs!"

Sara shuddered once out of the man's sight.

"Well you handled that very well," Grissom commented dryly.

"Thanks." Sara said flatly. "You could have been a bit more supportive, though."

Grissom shrugged. "You were doing fine on your own. But next time," he added, "Try not to be 'the good cop'."

"It got him to talk, didn't it?"

Grissom cleared his throat. "Let's get back to the lab."

"Were you going to say something, Grissom?"

Grissom turned back to look at Sara. He paused, shook his head. "No."

Sara sighed. "Thought so."

She walked past him, her head down. Grissom watched her go. And sighed.

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Warrick headed through the corridors, headed for the coronary. As he passed the DNA lab, the CSI paused at the doorway, and frowned.

Greg had cleaned up the lab, and the stereo wasn't blasting out punk rock. Rather, slow, soft classical music was playing.

"Did I miss something?" Warrick frowned.

Greg grinned back at Warrick from behind the machinery. "If you had met the lovely Valerie Wilks, you wouldn't be asking."

"Valerie who?"

Greg spun around on his chair and shook his head pityingly. "Valerie Wilks, Seattle. Catherine's temporary replacement." He made the 'ok' sign with his hand. "Fine doesn't even BEGIN to cover it." Greg spun around in his chair again and 'swooned'. "I'm in love."

Warrick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, ok then, Casanova, when you're done fantasising, get back to work."

Greg saluted. "Sure, why not. If there is work to be done, Sanders is on it." The labrat stretched and leaned back in his chair.

"And while you're at it," Warrick shook his head, "Take that crap off the radio or people are going to start talking."

"I'll have you know," Greg replied, a little annoyed, "That I happen to be going through a phase."

Warrick smirked. "You'd better get out of it, before Grissom decides to give you a psyche eval."

Greg blinked. "Duly warned." As Warrick walked away, Metallica began playing again.

Archie poked his head out of the AV room to greet Warrick as he passed. "That's a relief. For a moment, I was worried that Greg was going weird."

"Since when hasn't Greg been weird?" Warrick grinned back.

A/N: Greg, Greg, Greg... -hugs him- As Nerwen and Tuniviel know, you're in for a shock. You poor little muffin. -hugs again- Anyhoo, reviews make me happy. I've almost finished this 'episode'! Yayness!