AN: I'm going to consider this a Halloween fic. This was loosely inspired by a nightmare I had about CSI, the first part, anyways. I couldn't resist the last line.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.

Hell Hath No Fury

He swallowed as he entered the white ballroom. He couldn't believe that he was actually going through with this. He fiddled with his bowtie as he walked past the crowd, towards the moment that would change his life forever. Why did he want to turn around and run? He could feel sweat dripping from the base of his neck as he carefully stepped onto the stage in the middle of the ball room. His palms were sweaty and his breathing was erratic as he took his place in front of the robed minister.

Then the band played and she appeared in a pure white dress. His eyes widened and he felt the sudden urge to bolt. What the Hell was he thinking, asking her to marry him in the first place?

She navigated the stage and she stood before him, her brown eyes boring into him expectantly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He stared back at her, wide-eyed. He was hyperventilating now. He couldn't breathe! His head felt funny. All of these people were going to watch him die making the biggest mistake of his life. He clenched his eyes shut, praying for death to be swift.

"Gil?" a new voice called his name. It sounded heavenly, angelic. Perhaps this was an angel coming to receive him. He opened his eyes to find that he was still standing on the stage in the white ballroom in front of the minister. Except as he stared down at the woman in the dress, her eyes had changed from brown to blue with a greenish tinge. Her hair was no longer brown, but a shimmering strawberry blond. He knew her face. Suddenly, his breathing became normal. He had stopped sweating. He calmed as he stared into her face.

"Catherine," he sighed. His voice was content as he smiled down at her. This was right where he wanted to be.

"Do I know how to turn you on or what?" she asked, flashing him a confident grin. Her confidence became his own as he stared lovingly into her features, taking in every line, every freckle, on her glowing skin.

"No one knows better, Catherine," he responded, thinking about how he was the luckiest man alive.

Then horror! He tore his gaze away from his goddess. The room had become dark. People were screaming, panicking. There was a grinding noise…a chainsaw! He turned to look back at his bride, but to his terror, Catherine was gone, replaced by the original woman wielding a chainsaw!

"Where's Catherine?" he demanded, stepping back in terror, "I want Catherine! I love Catherine!" he screamed at the figure at the top of his lungs.

"WHAT?" a voice screamed and suddenly he felt as though he was falling. He cringed and waited for the saw to dig into his flesh.

He opened his eyes, ready to face the whirring blade of the power tool, however, he was no longer in the white ballroom. He was in the living room of his townhouse, flat on the floor, in between the sofa and the coffee table. With dawning comprehension, he realized that it had all been a dream. He wasn't about to be chopped into bits and pieces.

"What the HELL was that?" he stared up into Sara's face and suddenly he rethought himself. She was livid. If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

"What?" he asked, staring up at her in a mixture of fear and confusion. That was clearly not the thing to say. She threw her drink at him, smashing the glass on the floor. He was soaked. Thankfully, it was just water, but still!

"What's the matter with you, Sara?" he questioned, getting to his feet and staring at her incredulously.

"You know perfectly well, what's wrong, Grissom!" she shouted, hurtling a pillow for the couch at him. He ducked and it hit the lamp on his other side.

"Sara, Honey, I-"

"DON'T YOU 'SARA, HONEY' ME! SO YOU LOVE CATHERINE, HUH?" she screamed, grabbing whatever she would find to throw at him. His eyes widened in shock as a wedding magazine collided with his head. His subconscious had been working overtime.

"Sara-" he tried to reason with her, but she merely screamed and threw a large volume about the lifecycle of the anobiid powder-post beetle at him.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Okay, she's gonna so kick some ass," Lindsey Willows announced in between mouthfuls of popcorn.

"Language," her mother reprimanded her, though the attempt was half-hearted. Lindsey turned away from the TV screen to stare at her mother.

"Come on, Mom! How could she not? In thirty seconds, there's going to be a knock on the door and the psycho with the chainsaw is going to burst through and then she's gonna take a board and nail him with it."

"Way to ruin it for me, Linds," Catherine deadpanned, shaking her head and turning back to their movie. She loved watching movies with her daughter, particularly these kind.

"You'll see," Lindsey said smugly as she watched the screen zoom in on the door.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

Both Lindsey and Catherine screamed and jumped, sending popcorn flying everywhere as someone pounded on their front door.

"Son of a bitch!" Catherine scowled, allowing herself a second to calm down before she started towards the door. Lindsey jumped up, too.

"I'm going to scare those stupid little trick-or-treaters so bad, they'll regret knocking on our door!" she growled, vengefully. There was nothing that irked her more than people interrupting her movie.

She approached the front door first, and threw it open so violently that it knocked against the wall and screamed, "BOO!"

To both Lindsey and Catherine's shock, Gil Grissom stood on their doorstep, cringing, with his hands held up defensively.

"Please don't throw anything at me," he whimpered, hazarding a look at the Willows women.

"What in the Hell happened to you?" Catherine questioned as she motioned her friend inside. He was quite a sight. He was clad in nothing but a soaking wet t-shirt and jeans. His hair stood up on all ends and his broken glasses hung in the neck of his shirt. Along his arms, there were various bruises and cuts, however, these were nothing compared to his face. There was a red handprint on his left cheek, a bump forming over his right eye, and a bloody cut on his lower lip.

"Hell hath no fury," he said shakily.

"You look like Hell, Uncle Gil," Lindsey commented as she watched him inch his way into the room. He didn't even make the effort to glare at her comment.

"Language!" Catherine scolded, as she moved into the kitchen to grab him an ice pack. Lindsey scowled.

"What? You both just said it!"

"Well, I've been through Hell," Gil commented, leaning against the wall.

"Stop saying 'Hell'," Catherine ordered crossly, tossing the icepack at him. He yelped and ducked. Catherine and Lindsey gaped at him. That was not the Gil Grissom that they knew.

"Alright, what happened?" Catherine asked, pulling him and the icepack into the living room. He shuddered for a moment as he relived what was definitely the worst half-hour of his life.

"She-she was throwing everything…books, candles, a lamp…I-It was horrible," he answered, gulping.

"Sara?" Catherine asked, incredulous. She had always known that Sara was a loose canon, but she had never dreamed that Gil would suffer for it.

"She's packing her stuff…what she didn't break, anyways…told me to leave while she did," he explained, "I-I didn't know where else to go."

"Well, I'm glad that you came here," Catherine said as gently as possible, squeezing his arm for support. He winced and she pulled away.

"NO!" he cried so suddenly that it made both Lindsey and Catherine jump, "It was just a bruise," he told her, missing the contact of her soft hand on his skin.

"Gil…Are you okay? Gil?" she asked, debating whether or not she should take him to a hospital. He remembered the dream the moment she said his name. He loved the way it sounded coming for her lips. And then he had opened his eyes and he didn't feel scared anymore. He looked up into her eyes and felt the same calm he had felt in the dream. He smiled.

"I had a dream about you," he said softly, before he could stop himself. She started in surprise.

"You did?" she asked, looking around for her car keys. Now she was sure that he warranted medical attention. The Gil Grissom that she knew never shared intimate details.

"You were in a white dress," he continued, "You were beautiful."

Lindsey snickered at the look of shock on her mother's face. So Gil wanted to marry her…that wasn't exactly a new development. Even she could tell that he had always been crazy about her.

"Gil, we're taking you to a hospital," Catherine announced, rising from the sofa.

"Then you turned into Sara and she was threatening to kill me with a chainsaw," he said reflectively. Lindsey snorted, unable to contain herself. Here was the most rational man she knew, talking about his now ex-girlfriend wielding a chainsaw. It was hilarious.

"I yelled for you," he admitted. He seemed stunned and in a daze.

"Gil, come on, we're going to the hospital," Catherine ordered, trying to pull him up. He wouldn't budge.

"I must have said it out loud. I was on the floor of my townhouse…and Sara…I was lucky that she didn't actually have a chainsaw."

"Gil, now," Catherine demanded, "Come on."

"But I'm fine, Catherine," he argued, springing out of his trance, "I'm right where I want to be."

"Gil, you are freaking me out. Let's go to the hospital," Catherine prodded him. Lindsey sighed and shook her head. She didn't need to be a CSI to decipher what Gil actually needed, why he had come here in the first place. Lindsey could tell that he was in love with her, by the way he spoke to her and smiled as he recounted the better part of his dream. It was probably why he had been dreaming about marrying Catherine when he was engaged to Sara. Did he actually think that he could marry someone while he was in love with someone else?

"Mom, I think I know what'll make him feel better," she announced, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"What?" Catherine asked, staring perplexed from her daughter to her best friend.

"A kiss," Lindsey stated simply, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Catherine gaped at her.

"You cannot…Linds, that's totally inappropriate…Gil just broke up-"

"I said that I loved you," Gil announced, rising to his feet, taking the confidence that she normally exuded and making it his own.

"W-What?" Catherine faltered.

"That's what I screamed out when I woke up," he told her, "I love you."

She bit her lower lip, not knowing what she should do. He was just getting out of a relationship, he wasn't thinking clearly, and he was bruised and battered.

"Mom, this is the point where you say that you love him back," Lindsey prodded. She had seen enough of them dancing around each other over the years.

"Gil…You're not thinking…clearly-"

"My head has never been clearer in my life," he told her, stepping towards her, cupping her face in his hands. She let out a whimper as she stared up into his bright blue eyes that had captivated her for years. They were telling her that he was serious, more serious than he had ever been about anything. There was nothing that she could do. She shrugged and smiled up at him.

"I hope you are, Gil," she sighed, giving into her feelings for him. His smile got wider as he closed the gap between them and kissed her gently and passionately. He didn't even hurt as her lips brushed against his cut lip or as she leaned into his bruised body. Nothing could hurt him now.

They broke off and he grinned and whispered in her ear, "Boy, do you know how to turn me on, or what?"

The End