An American Werewolf In Vegas

Disclaimer: Bah!

A/N: Ouch, I haven't posted for a while. Life has been hectic and I really haven't had time to write much so I apologise if this isn't up to much. I was thinking what would you guys prefer, Sara and Grissom's turning or Grissom and Sara's turningl and then what they get up to as a werewolf? I know what one would be easier but I don't want the easy way out, I'd like to know which one would be better for the way this story is heading, so if and when you review if you just add what you thinks better and the one with the most votes will get done.

Chapter Eleven: Say Your Prayers

"I want that file on my desk by next shift."

"Leave me alone."

"I've had this pain for about 2 months now, think I should see a doctor?"

"You stole my ham sandwich."

Grissom shook his head roughly as he walked through the halls of the Lab. If people had seen annoyance being expressed through his headshake they didn't say anything. He continued walking, the whispers surrounded him and engulfed him, he could hear everything that was said in the Lab, he could hear the hums and hahs of the Lab's equipment, the tapping of fingers on a desk, the sound of glass colliding together as someone dropped several test tubes, faint singing could be heard coming from the Men's toilets. Grissom frowned and made his way to his office, these small irritating noises could make any sane man crazy, they were off putting and extremely annoying.

He sat down and huffed a sigh of delight as the noises were blocked out, his office door doing a great job of being the silencer. Slips of paper covered his desk, a stack of paperwork to his right stared at him. He knew he couldn't put it off any longer, opening the folder on top he read through what was written and signed his name at the bottom. After doing this for more than an hour he took his glasses from his face and rubbed his eyes wearily.

What he needed right now was a breakthrough in the case; he needed something solid to work with instead of human remains or animal hair. He needed a name or a number or even evidence, which made sense. He looked at the calendar, which hung on his wall, just over a week left before the full moon, something bubbled up from his stomach and travelled up, he was sure it was a scream, laying his head on his desk a long loud groan left his throat and reached his ears.

Greg stood outside Grissom's office, he had heard the groan and he was frightened to knock. He really didn't need a grouchy Grissom snapping at him. Frowning he clenched his hands into fists and sighed, why was he scared of Grissom? Why was he scared of anyone in the Lab? He knew everyone seen him as the joker of the Lab, the guy no one took seriously. He hated being treated like a child, he was a CSI now and he expected people to respect him, not down talk him or laugh at him.

He knocked quietly on Grissom's office door and waited for a reply. A husky 'Come in' made Greg turn the handle to Grissom's office and walk in. His supervisor was hunched over his desk signing paperwork; he looked up and noticed Greg standing silently looking rather nervous.

"Yes Greg?"

Greg looked at his supervisor and noticed the deep frown etched in his features, he looked much older and really tired. Greg was shocked to witness Grissom in this state.

"I..well.."

Grissom's glare made Greg speak up.

"We found a finger print on the clothing that was left of the human remains. Sara's just running it through AFIS now."

Grissom and Greg sat next to Sara waiting for them to get a hit; it was a long and tedious process.

"It wasn't an easy print to find."

"Well hopefully, this finger print will be the breakthrough in this case."

Grissom and Sara shared a look of hope as they waited.

The bleep made the three of them jump as they stared at the screen. The face of a sneering teen making Greg wince.

"Johnny Maitland, he owns the club Violo No down on the strip."

"Says here he's been arrested for possession and assault. Nothing major."

"Why would his print be on one of the bodies?"

Grissom quirked an eyebrow and smirked at Greg. "Let's find out."

Violo No wasn't bright and flashy like the rest of the strip, it melded in with the buildings next to it, the black and blue sign hypnotised Sara.

Brass looked at Grissom. "So…we're here to ask this guy what exactly?"

Grissom sighed. "We're here to ask him exactly why his bloody fingerprint was on the clothing of one of the dismembered bodies."

"Right…and I thought you thought that it was an animal."

"That was then this is now. He could easily own something that could do that to those corpses."

"Right. Shall we?"

Grissom, Sara, Greg and Brass entered Violo No, the music pounding and shaking the club; Grissom winced as they entered the main club area. Hundreds of people danced and shook to the music, the DJ egging the crowd on to 'dance dirtier'. Brass bent over the bar and spoke to one of the employees, a man in his mid twenties, his orange hair illuminated with the strobe lights from the club.

Brass shouted over the music. "Where can we find Johnny Maitland?"

"Dude..what?"

"I said where could we find the owner, Johnny Maitland?"

"Huh, what you wantin with J?"

Brass sighed and turned round glaring as he gave the CSI's an exasperated look.

"We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, we need to ask him a few questions.."

The music volume somehow got louder, the crowd screaming and jumping up and down as the DJ bounced to the rhythm of the song. Greg nodded his head in time with the music while staring at the people in the crowd.

"You ever been here before Sara?"

"What? I can't hear you."

"Have you ever been here before?"

Sara shook her head and glanced at Grissom, his hair somehow looking more silver than it normally did, the light bouncing off of it.

The man behind the bar came off the phone and directed Brass to the back of the club where it was darker. "Dude, his office is there…he said to just walk in."

"Thanks."

"What?"

Brass growled and walked towards Johnny Maitland's office. The CSI's followed him barely glancing at the dancers up on the stage half naked dancing to the music.

Johnny Maitland sat behind a large oak desk; it was cluttered with thousands of dollars in folded piles. The twenty something looked up from his counting and smiled a greedy yet charming smile.

"Welcome. What can I do for the Las Vegas Crime Lab?"

Brass smiled uncaring and stood with his arms to the side.

"We have a few questions we need to ask you."

Johnny Smiled and nodded his head. "Certainly, about what exactly?"

"You've read the papers about the murders that have been committed recently?"

Johnny nodded. "Ah yes, the animal related ones? What does that have to do with me?"

Sara noticed that he kept staring at her, moving his eyes up and down her frame.

"Have we met before Miss…"

"Sidle, Sara Sidle..i don't believe we've met."

"And you Mr…Gil Grissom? That's what your badge says…"

Grissom quirked an eyebrow and pursed his lips. "I don't recall meeting you."

"Are you sure?" Johnny smirked and folded his hands on his desk. "You look awful worried about something…the both of you. Has something happened recently?"

Brass cut in. "This isn't about them, this is about you Johnny. Where were you Tuesday Evening?"

"Umm..i believe here at my club."

Grissom stepped closer. "Do you have anyone who could verify that?"

"Of course, Mitchy at the bar, the orange headed fellow. You think I have something to do with these murders?"

"Your finger print was found on one of the corpses clothing found tonight. Care to explain how it got there?"

Johnny lit up a cigarette and started to puff away as he looked at Sara.

"Are you feeling unwell..? You look a little peaky."

"I'm fine."

"Does the Crime Lab have many attractive women like yourself working in it? Such a shame, a woman attractive as you investigating crime.."

Sara knew from the minute he had asked if they had met that this was the guy that had attacked both Grissom and herself at the crime scene. He was taunting them, trying to come across as pleasantly enquiring about things, really he was laughing inside at them. Sara grit her teeth and hoped Grissom had noted this as well.

Johnny Maitland patted his back in appreciation; he was really getting under their skins. He had been expecting both Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom; he had planted his bloody fingerprint on that corpse knowing they would come for him. They really were naïve at the moment. He could smell them, their animal scent wafting through the club, he loved the smell of Sara Sidle, he closed his eyes and inhaled, he could breathe that scent in forever.

"I don't know how it got there…"

"You wouldn't mind Mr Grissom Ms Sidle and Mr Sanders having a look around your office?"

"No wouldn't mind at all. Do I have to stay with them or can I go get myself a cup of coffee?"

"Coffee's fine, they only need about half an hour or so."

Smiling Johnny Maitland left his office and the CSI's began to work. Greg stood in the middle of the office and looked towards Grissom. "So, what are we looking for?"

Grissom looked up from reading one of Johnny Maitland's bills and leered at Greg. "Anything that can tie him to any of the victims."

"But." Greg looked at Sara and noticed she was silently willing him to stop.

Come on Greg, show em' that you can do your job just as good as them!

"If we don't have any strong evidence, how can we be sure we've found something that's related to the vics?"

"If you find anything out of place, anything at all just bag it Greg."

Greg walked to the window in the office that took up more than half of the wall the view was fantastic. Greg looked down and stared at the windowsill noticing hair clumped in a pile. It looked like the hair found at the last few crime scenes. Brass walked over towards Greg and put his hand on the young CSI's shoulder.

"What you got there Greg?"

Greg's beaming smile gave him away. "Grissom, Sara…I've found hair, the exact same kind that was found on some of the bodies."

Both Grissom and Sara made their way to Greg and stared down at the clump of hair, it looked like the hair collected from the scenes. Sara looked at Grissom and raised her shapely eyebrows; he pursed his mouth in return.

"We need to find something more definitive than animal hair, bag it Greg we might need that later."

Carefully placing the hair in a bindle Greg laid it inside his case and again began searching for evidence.

Grissom was carefully scanning old bills, receipts from purchases and old mail. There was something strange about Johnny Maitland and Grissom couldn't put his finger on it. As soon as he had walked into the office he could smell a strong rancid scent, it suffocated him as he stood watching Johnny Maitland's body language. The guy was so full of himself it irritated Grissom. He was young, good looking and extremely charming, too charming in fact and the 20 questions he was playing with Sara and himself had pinpointed that there was something mysterious about Johnny Maitland.

"I don't understand how the youth of today can afford night clubs.."

Greg looked up from his searching and smiled. "It's Vegas Grissom, anything and everything is possible."

Johnny Maitland had artwork lining his office walls; some were mildly interesting while others were overly grotesque. Grissom's eye caught onto one, a red and blue painting depicting the death of a young woman. It was very expressive, the lines messy and thick.

"Found anything else?"

Sara blew the hair out of her eyes. "Yes! Blood stain just under his desk, it looks fresh."

Grissom walked over to the desk. "How fresh?"

"Maybe a couple of days old."

Brass stood next to Grissom. "Maybe the guy cut his finger or something...isn't a few days too fresh?"

Sara shrugged. She opened the drawers of the desk slowly one by one. The bottom drawer held an empty sandwich container, a can of diet coke and a plastic Tupperware box which held a lumpy red mixture. Holding it up to the light Sara sniffed and caught the smell of blood.

"Anyone feel peckish?"

TBC

Ooooh, a red bloody mixture of what exactly? Mwahahaha, let's see what my morbid mind can come up with. Reviews, criticisms and suggestions warmly welcomed.