Disclaimer: I don't own 'em….

A/N: It's A Wonderful Life is one of my favorite holiday movies. I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by to write a CSI-esque version of this classic film.

Thanks to IMMI for helping me out with the plot and being my sounding board for this one. You're an awesomely adorable leprechaun/blue princess.

XXXX

It had been another one of those days in Vegas. You know the type. And actually, they're not limited to just Vegas. I suppose they can and do happen in just about every town imaginable. But Vegas isn't like any other town. Vegas is a unique place. If you've ever visited it, you know that. This place gets under your skin. A whole lot of people do a lot of living and dying in Vegas. I don't have much to do with the living part, but when they die, I step in.

I seldom, if ever, see the best that mankind has to offer. It's only at a person's worst hour, in a family's most grief filled moment that I meet most people.

I've been doing this job longer than I care to admit. And I'm damn good at it. It's just that lately, more so than ever before, it all seems to be for naught.

It feels like I'm a failure at every turn. And I don't mean the kind of failure you easily recover from. I'm talking the kind of failure that takes a piece of your soul. I know you know what I'm talking about.

First there was the career as a stripper and the coke addiction. Then there was the failed marriage to Eddie. And let's not forget Eddie's unsolved murder. There was my staged rape. Lindsey was kidnapped. Sam was killed with me standing right beside him. Keppler was shot and killed. Sara was kidnapped—and barely found in time. And then she left. Just out of the blue, with no warning, she just left. I think Sara really was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

Digging in and fighting this everyday is too much. I have failed too many times and failed too many people.

I've had enough of this self-pitying and self-loathing sitting among strangers in this dimly lit, smoke filled bar. I turn to the woman sitting next to me, an otherwise gorgeous brunette whose hair isn't quite long enough and whose eyes are much too bright to be those of Sara. She hasn't stopped talking since she sat down next to me. Her continuous flirting and none too subtle touching of various parts of my body has kept my attention focused on her—well, split between her and the string of beer empty beer bottles sitting on the bar in front of me.

Her lips continue to move and sounds continue to escape from them.

"You know," I start, "I'm better off dead." I tilt my beer bottle in her direction as if to punctuate my words and give her a wink.

She smiles before she reaches over and strokes my arm, but her touch is alien. I feel nothing but cold and numb where her fingers trail over my skin. "Oh you don't mean that," she breathes as she inches closer to me. "Mmmm," she purrs into my ear, "why don't we get out of here and I can make you feel more alive than you've ever felt?"

I can only stare at her blankly. On the one hand, she's not Sara. On the other hand, she's not Sara. I'm out of hands. If she for one moment thinks she can make me feel alive, she's dumber than I had originally estimated—only she doesn't know it.

I tip my bottle against my lips one more time, draining it completely of any amber liquid remaining. I sit it on the bar and reach for her hand. I nearly fall as I try to stand up, but she just wraps her arm around my waist and I drape one over her shoulders.

XXXXX

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

It's too damn early for that alarm to be going off. I reach over to turn the alarm off and find myself draped over a warm, supple body. I open my eyes and notice the flash of brown hair.

"Sara?" I whisper.

She turns to face me and opens her eyes. Pangs of regret fill me. This isn't my Sara. Flashes from my drunken sexual misadventures with this pseudo-Sara in my bed fill my head. She smiles and starts to talk again.

I just roll back over onto my back and close my eyes as she snuggles into my side. It just feels so wrong. She doesn't look like Sara. She doesn't sound like Sara. She doesn't smell like Sara. Even in my drunken state I know she didn't taste like Sara. I wish the last twenty-four hours of my life to disappear. Hell, make that the last year. I wish this last year had never happened.

I open my eyes and she's still there. Maybe I didn't wish back far enough. I wish the last two years had never happened. I look to my side and she's still there.

I close my eyes once more. I wish I had never been born. I open them and she's still there. I throw the covers off and swing myself out of the bed.

I am about to step into the bathroom when I lose my footing and land solidly on the floor, my head smacking the edge of the tub as I fall.

XXXX

I slowly open my eyes, keenly aware of how bright the lights in this room are. Two strangers are standing over me. The man is holding a baseball bat and the woman behind him is using his body as a shield.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" I say hoarsely as I try to stand.

He pulls the bat back, obviously looking for a reason to hit me. "Your house? This is my house and I want to know why you're in my bathroom!"

I pull myself to my feet and hug the wall as I squeeze past the dynamic duo into the bedroom. It's totally different than the way my bedroom was decorated. The walls are no longer a soft shade of green. They're a deep caramel color. The pictures that litter the dresser and walls are all of unfamiliar people.

I can't help but wonder how many beers I had last night that I ended up in the wrong house.

I make my way through the familiar floor plan to the front door. I open it and step outside and look at the numbers on the house. Those are my numbers. This is my house. I look up and down the street. These are my neighbors. I'm in the right house. I turn to walk back in the house and the door is slammed in my face.

Just as I'm about to start pounding on the door and screaming at these strangers to get out of my fucking house, a voice stops me.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warns.

I turn in search of the voice because I don't recall seeing anyone else on the steps or in the yard when I walked out of the house. I squint my eyes, hoping to make out a figure in the waning light of the early evening.

It's a woman. She looks vaguely familiar, like I should know her. I can't quite tell who she is though.

"Do I know you?" I ask harshly.

She steps closer and I recognize her features. Only, it can't be who I think it is. There's no way. She's still a child. And I'm….

I cock my head to the side, unsure of what and who I'm seeing. "Who are you?"

"Oh come on, Rin Tin. You know who I am. Look harder," she says as she steps closer and takes my hand.

I don't even have to look at her features. As soon as she takes my hand in hers, I'm flooded with memories of my childhood—of me riding horses, swimming in a nearby pond, playing with Nancy in the backyard.

"You can't be…" I start but am unable to finish.

"But I am."

"How?" I'm hung over and confused as hell. I walk to the curb and sit down, suddenly wishing I had something to drink or smoke in my hand.

"How? Easy, Rin Tin. Me and you—we were never born."

I look up at her with wide eyes. "I was born. I was married. I have a daughter. I have a job. I'm just having a very bad day. And you, you're just a drunken hallucination."

"Fine," she says as she stands there and puts her hands on her hips. "If I'm just one of your drunken hallucinations, wake your ass up and go inside," she points to the door as she says this.

I'm very familiar with this attitude so I promptly pull myself to my feet and head back to the door. Before I can even knock on it, it swings open and there stands the burly man who was standing over me with a bat a bit earlier. "Look lady, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but you need to leave. 'Cause if you don't, I'm calling the cops." He slams the door in my face and turns off the porch light.

I turn around and find myself face to face with myself. "So, uh, how's that going back inside thing working out for ya," she asks with a cocky smirk on her face.

I growl at her and start walking. I'll go to Nancy's. She'll be able to tell me what's going on and I can see Lindsey and make sure she's okay.

"Still thinking that I'm some drunken hallucination?"

I wrap my arms around myself, thankful that I at least had on pajama bottoms, slippers and a shirt when I was unceremoniously evicted from my residence. I just look at her and scowl, continuing to walk.

"I know where you think you're going," she says after we've been walking for a few minutes. "And she's not there. Nancy doesn't live there."

I stop and turn to face her. "What do you mean Nancy doesn't live there? Of course she does. She lives where she's lived the last seven years and Lindsey is there with her. She'll know what's going on."

My younger self just laughs to herself, "This is going to be tougher than I thought. Growing up hasn't made me any less stubborn."

"What's that supposed to mean? How about you quit talking in riddles and start explaining things? We have plenty of time. It'll take us a while to walk to Nancy's place."

"It's going to take a very long time to go to Nancy's place, if you intend to walk there, Rin Tin. Nancy doesn't live in Vegas."

"I didn't think I started drinking until I was 13, so I know you…I mean I…am not drunk. What do you mean Nancy doesn't live in Vegas? She has my daughter. She picked her up from school for me today."

"Nancy doesn't live here and you don't have a daughter, Rin Tin. You said you wished you had never been born. I'm here to show you what the lives of the people you care for so much are like. A glimpse, if you like, into how different things are without Catherine Willows in the world. And since you're so eager to see your sister—my sister, we'll start with her."