Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Chesterfield Sheriff's Deputy Justin Cognill was alerted by the sound of feet running towards the circle of squad cars and turned around, shining his flashlight in the direction of the noise.

Three men and a woman came running up the gravel path from the road. He could see guns on their hips and instinctively reached for his own as he looked for visible badges.

"Officer," the older man said quickly, seeing the move as they approached. "Captain Donald Cragen, Manhattan Special Victims Unit."

Cognill immediately took his hand away from his weapon. "Deputy Justin Cognill," he introduced himself. They skidded to a stop beside him, panting and looking frantic. The tall white man immediately began searching around with his eyes.

"Where is everyone?" he asked anxiously.

The deputy was momentarily distracted by the other man and the woman when they ran in the direction of the Ford Explorer. "Inside," he said, pointing towards the store. "Sheriff Haskins is waiting for you guys."

Munch and Cragen ran for the store.

Olivia immediately went to the driver's side and tried the door. Fin did the same on the passenger side. She cupped her hands around the window so that she could see inside.

"Locked?" Fin called out as he was trying the rear door.

"Yeah," she said, turning around. She looked intently at the deputy. "I need a slim jim."

Cognill turned and went to his patrol car. He unlocked the trunk and pulled the object from beside the spare tire, running back to them.

"Here," he said, handing it to her.

Fin was beside her now. Both men watched her quickly slide the tool in and pop the door lock. She put the bar on the ground and opened the door, immediately climbing inside.

She climbed into the backseat and looked in the very back, then checked the floor and under the seats. Fin leaned into the front, examining for any sign of a struggle. An open bottle of water sat in the cup holder. A map was draped across the passenger seat over top of several CD cases. Elliot had definitely been in there at some point.

Olivia came out and went around to the front of the truck. "Fin, pop the hood," she called. He pulled the lever and she lifted the hood up. The deputy grabbed the hook and helped her latch it in place.

She rested her hand on the engine. It was stone-cold. Her partner hadn't been here recently.

Biting her lip anxiously, she stepped back and came around the truck again, scanning the ground for scuffle marks. When she found none, she dropped onto her knees and looked underneath the truck, looking for any disturbances in the mechanics there.

"Liv."

Fin's voice made her whip her head up. She got to her feet and came to the open door.

Fin was halfway out of the car, bracing his feet on the truck's running board. He looked at her and motioned for her to look inside.

"Keys are in the ignition," he said, when she leaned in. His eyes traveled upward to check the mileage and gas. "Gas tank is full."

She met his eyes, her thoughts running on the same path as his were. It looked like someone had snatched him right from his own car.

Munch and Cragen entered the store and saw a group of about fifteen police officers standing near the front counter. Heads turned when they stepped inside and a man stepped out of the crowd immediately.

"You guys are from Manhattan, I assume," he said, coming to them. They both nodded. He offered his hand. "Blake Haskins. I'm the Sheriff of Chesterfield."

"Captain Donald Cragen, Manhattan Special Victims Unit," Don said, shaking his hand quickly. He gestured to John. "Detective John Munch." He also shook the sheriff's hand quickly.

Haskins nodded, immediately getting to business. "You're the one that called?" he asked, directing the question toward Don. He nodded affirmation. "We're looking for one of your guys, correct?"

"Yes," Cragen answered as John stepped around him to walk toward the group of officers. "Detective Elliot Stabler called me at around three this morning saying he needed help…he sounded like he may have been injured. When I traced the call back to his cell phone, the company gave me an address here."

Haskins nodded. "You're probably right about him being injured," he said as he led him over to the others. Don's heart constricted at these words. The group dispersed enough for him to see past it, and he saw several broken jars and cans on the ground.

"There is blood here," Haskins pointed the small puddle, now dried, on the floor, "and here." He continued upward and pointed to a shelf. Don saw blood on it as well. Haskins crouched down next to the blood on the floor and the captain followed suit, seeing scuff marks.

"We've got three different sets of scuffle marks," the sheriff said, indicating each one. "Judging from the direction" he looked down the aisle and Don followed with his eyes, "someone was dragged across the floor towards the back of the store."

Munch followed a group of officers into the back room, where several more were. "They took him into this store room," one of them said. "But there's nothing here to indicate how long he was here or what they were doing."

The detective listening with one ear while turning and scanning the room. There was nothing in the room except for a trunk against the wall that two officers were dusting for prints and a bowl on the floor. He furrowed his brow and turned again, doing a complete sweep.

There were no windows, and the screen door leading to the room just had a flimsy lock. Whoever had taken Elliot here had to have restrained him to keep him from escaping.

"Do you know who owns the gas station?" Don asked, looking around at the group of officers. Olivia and Fin came in from outside then, walking up to join them. The sheriff looked at the newcomers for a moment but didn't comment.

"We ran a copy of the lease through the system," one officer spoke up. "No one's had business here for almost ten years….the last people to run the store moved away in '97."

Munch walked around to the other side of the store, leaving the officers to their task in the back room. He grimaced in horror at the sight of the animal remains in the glass cases, quickly moving past it.

"Nothing in the back room," he said, coming up beside Cragen again. He noticed the other two standing with them now. "But if someone took him in there, they would have had to restrain him somehow to keep him inside."

Olivia clenched her hands into fists at the words, fighting to keep cool. Seeing the struggle inside had only intensified her worry and anger. Once she knew that Elliot was alright, she was going to beat the shit out of whoever had decided to do this.

Cragen looked to the sheriff intently. "Alright, Sheriff," he said demandingly. "Obviously Elliot isn't here. We need to get out there right now and start looking for him." He raised his eyebrows. "Have we got a plan?"

"Well, all we've got to the north is about twenty miles of farmland," Haskins said. "If you follow the road south, you'll hit the interstate. I've already got a patrol unit out that way searching, so we should stick to the north side."

He pulled a folded map from his pocket and opened it, handing the end to a few officers beside him to hold up. "Here's where we are," he said, indicting a section of the map. He pointed to a decent-sized portion and circled it with his finger. "We'll split up the north side; one team will head up toward the woods while the other follows the road."

Haskins looked at the captain with raised eyebrows. "Sound okay to you?"

Cragen nodded quickly and the sheriff nodded as well to confirm. He handed flashlights to the captain. "Let's move out," he said, turning to the officers. He stopped by the four of them as they were all going out.

"I suppose I don't have to tell you this," he said awkwardly. "But…technically you guys can't make any arrests up here…"

Cragen stopped him with his hand quickly. "We know, sir," he said. "I assure you, we'll let you guys handle everything…all we're concentrating on is getting our detective."

Haskins nodded again and gestured for them to precede him out.

When they stepped onto the porch, Cragen turned to his three and stopped them. "We stay together," he said sternly. "It doesn't matter who finds him, no one split up. Understand?"

They all nodded quickly, not daring to argue at this point. Don handed one of the flashlights to John and followed the officers toward the road.

Elliot groaned, spots dancing in front of his eyes. "Stop it!" he screamed, thrashing against the ropes. He groaned in agony again.

His shoulder was by far the source of the most pain. The man was ruthless, pressing and squeezing as hard as he could. The ropes on his hands were rubbing like fire into the cuts and gashes on his knuckles, leaving a smear of blood each time he moved.

"Here," the black man said, handing off another one of the jars.

When it passed in front of him towards the older woman, he almost passed out. The jar was full of blood…his blood. She set it down beside three other full jars on the floor. Jed handed him the last one and stepped away.

The men sat down next to the three women and handed them each a jar. Elliot watched them, horrified. What the hell were they doing?

The black man lifted one of the jars up and the others followed suit. He said something in a language that Elliot didn't understand, and they repeated it. As he watched in shock, they lifted the jars to their lips.

Before he even knew what was happening, his stomach was convulsing. He leaned forward as far as his restraints would allow and puked. They didn't even raise an eyebrow in his direction as they swallowed the contents.

He became aware of wetness on his face, and he didn't know if it was blood or tears. But it was at that moment he knew he had to do something. If he stayed there, he was going to die…and most likely in as unpleasant a way as possible. These people were beyond psycho.

Looking up blearily, he tugged down hard on the ropes. A groan escaped his lips and he swallowed it quickly, glancing over to see if they had heard. They weren't even looking at him. Gritting his teeth, he pulled with all his strength, forcing himself to ignore the new fire that was searing his right wrist.

"We call on you, Master," the black man said loudly. Elliot jumped at the tone of his voice, involuntarily cringing away. "We come to you now, Master…open the doors for us to adorn you with this, our humble sacrifice…"

The words made Elliot freeze as it suddenly clicked. Sacrifice…they were talking about him. He was their sacrifice!

Jesus, Lord Almighty... please, I beg You, don't let me die this way. Please!

They began chanting, each one holding his or her head back and shaking. Their voices got louder and more exciting as they continued their foreign mantra.

When they stopped, the black man looked over his way and nodded. Jed nodded as well, and then the two of them began coming toward him. Intent was clear on their faces.

The black man stooped to pick up the hatchet as they advanced, rubbing the blade lightly in his hand.

Oh, God...oh, God!

Panic shot through his body faster than ever before. His entire frame shook as Elliot yanked as hard as he could on the ropes. His wrist twisted painfully and he couldn't hold in a yelp. As soon as he did, he felt the rope finally slip from underneath the nail.

His foot shot out in a flash and connected solidly with the black man's chest, startling him and knocking him back a step. Elliot immediately brought his bound hands forward and slammed them into his chest again as the man was coming forward once more. Using all of his strength, he shoved him back again and swept his leg out from under him, effectively sending him to the ground.

Hands immediately grabbed his arms from behind and began yanking him back hard. He knew this would be his only chance. As soon as the black man went down, Elliot snatched the hatchet from his hand and turned around.

With a yell of fury, he swung the hatchet hard. A growl of satisfaction escaped when he felt the blade connect and the man screamed in pain.

"God damn it!" he screamed, clutching his right arm. Blood spurted from under his fingers. His eyes blazed as he swung at Elliot with his good arm. "You're dead, you bastard-"

Blue eyes glinted with anger and fear as he came down again. He made sure to hit the same spot, and this time Jed went to his knees. In the next second, he was roughly yanked backward and on the ground.

The black man snatched the hatchet from him and hovered over him. "Say your prayers," he scowled, raising it up.

Elliot's eyes widened and he saw white. His mind was frozen, but thankfully his body wasn't. He rolled to the side and the hatchet slammed into the floor.

With a scream, he kicked hard up and connected with the man's groin. He yelled in agony and Elliot rolled away quickly. Grabbing the hatchet from the ground, he ran for his life towards the stairs.

"You can't run from me, boy," the black man growled, on his heels instantly. "You won't run from me!"

The man was only a step behind him. Gasping, Elliot raised the hatchet and swung it hard at the wooden door.

It got stuck in the wood as he was yanking it back. He tugged hard, tears running down his face, and suddenly felt something grab his foot. Gasping, he looked behind him to see the black man gripping his foot with both hands.

He frantically kicked at the man as he was simultaneously yanking hard on the hatchet. It finally dislodged from the door and he raised it again. The man regained his footing and began pulling harder, making him stumble and almost go down.

Aiming at the door handle, he slammed the hatchet down again. The handle fell to the ground.

Kicking hard to dislodge the hands, he pushed hard. The door opened and he ran, dropping the hatchet.

The black man yelled in frustration, scrambling to his feet. He bent to retrieve the hatchet before taking off after him.

Flashlight beams dotted the sides of the deserted road, illuminating ditches and piles of brush. Officers repeatedly called out Elliot's name as they searched.

Olivia's stomach had twisted into a knot at the very beginning, and it only got worse the further into the dark they went. She walked beside Fin as Cragen and Munch lit their way with the flashlights, sweeping slowly from side to side.

She couldn't get a grip on the fear that was eating at her heart. By the echoes of the yells from the other officers, it sounded like some of them were up near the lake, checking the water. Cragen purposely steered the group away from that area, feeling the same way as they all did. They couldn't handle it if someone did find him there.

Hitting the light on her watch, she saw that it was now almost 6 am.

Elliot tore out of the basement as fast as his legs would carry him and clumsily made his way around the hallway. He had no idea where the front door was.

He could hear footsteps thundering after him, and it made him panic. If they caught him again, there was no way he would get out of here alive. He was sure of it.

Racing into the living room, he looked around frantically without stopping. There was no time to lose now.

When he ran from that room, he saw the back door and almost wept with relief. He sprinted across the kitchen tile with his hands outstretched, planning to rip the fucking door off of its hinges if that's what it took to get out of here.

The black man suddenly skidded in front of him from another room on the other side, the hatchet raised high for a strike. Elliot grabbed the counter in the middle of the kitchen and threw himself over it, the blade once again missing him by mere inches. Hitting the floor, he ducked and rolled under the island.

"You're not getting out of here," the man growled angrily. Elliot could see his feet from where he was crouched. The hatchet slapped in his hand. "No one escapes Chesterfield…no one."

His eyes narrowed into intent slits when he saw the back door just beyond where the man stood. His heart pumped wildly as he poised for action, his muscles tight.

There would only be one chance. If he didn't time it perfectly, he was dead.

The black man pursed his lips, still slapping the blade on his palm. He could see the man cowered under the island, an unwise move on his part. The island was right in front of the stove, so he had no way out except to go past him. He was trapped now.

He would try to run, of this the man was certain... they all tried. This one was by far one of the more difficult ones he had seen over time, but the challenge only made the victory sweeter.

"You've got two choices," he continued, sweeping with his eyes. "You can come willingly, or I can make you come out."

Elliot gasped in breaths, listening to the man's taunts.

"Come on," he said teasingly. "Try and out run me…come on. I'll give you a head start; come on…let me enjoy the chase."

The sound of another set of footprints coming alerted Elliot's ears. His eyes darted around anxiously, trying to locate the feet.

The black man pointed under the island. Jed grinned and stepped up on the other side.

Elliot's heart sank when he saw the feet move over to the other side, recognizing them as the other man's. Now they had both sides blocked. Panic surged again.

What the hell was he going to do?

"That was a lucky shot you had back there," Jed spoke up.

He fingered his torn shoulder gently, the blood running all the way down his arm. Elliot could see drops of it hit the floor from his position.

He scowled, his face twisting as he continued angrily, "You won't get the chance again." He reached quietly for the steak knives sitting in a basket on the counter by the stove.

A knife came under the island out of nowhere, piercing his left shoulder blade. Elliot yelped and twisted around quickly to get away from another blow. His middle came poking out from underneath the island and the black man lunged on the opportunity.

He clamped his hands around Elliot's waist and yanked him hard. Unprepared, Elliot stumbled across the floor and into the cabinets.

One shot…one shot…you have to take it right now.

His gut screamed at him that this would be his only chance. When the black man came at him with the hatchet raised, the look on his face was murder.

Rolling quickly, he sprang to his feet and turned to meet the man head-on. The hatchet was coming down fast and he shot his bound hands up instinctively, one palm connecting full-force with the black man's nose.

The man howled, feeling the bones breaking, and dropped his hold on the hatchet. Elliot dodged the blade as it hit the ground and rushed around the man. He yanked hard on the back door handle expecting it to be locked, and was surprised when it opened.

When he jumped off of the stoop onto the grass, he heard the faint echo of sirens in the distance. Tears of relief came rushing out.

Thank God Almighty…finally someone was coming to save him.

There was no time to revel in the relief. Jed's voice screaming behind him made him whip around fast, and he jumped when he saw the man coming towards the back door.

"You're dead!" he yelled angrily. "Dead!"

He was running before he even realized it. The chain link fence tore into his palms as he struggled awkwardly over it, but he didn't even feel it.

The yell echoed in the still night air, freezing the four of them in their tracks. Olivia was running in a second. "Come on!" she screamed, looking at the others behind her in alarm. "Come on, you guys!"

The three men caught up in a second. Ahead of them, officers were sprinting through the woods.

He was so tired. He had to force himself to pump hard, his chest burning every time he gasped in a breath. He didn't know if Jed was following him, but he didn't look behind him for fear of losing his sense of direction. Pitch black woods were all he could see around him.

He suddenly tripped on a root and went flying, gasping and biting his tongue hard with the surprise. He hit the dirt hard, the force slamming the wind from his stomach.

Struggling painfully to his feet, he shakily kept going. Where were they? Where were they?

Stopping, he gasped for breath while looking around. It was a mistake.

The shout came from nowhere, making him jump, and then a knife blade was tearing between his ribs. Jed struck a second time, slicing into his jeans right below the hipbone with a fierce growl.

Elliot screamed out in pain and instantly began fighting the man off. His hands caught the knife as it was coming down and he struggled to wrestle it away from him as the man grabbed his injured shoulder. The pain made him go to his knees as he tried as hard as he could to avoid the next stab.

The painful scream sounded so close that it made Cragen gasp. Shouts of command from the officers ahead made his blood freeze as they hurried even more.

"POLICE, DROP THE WEAPON!"

The sound made Elliot gasp in relief as a swarm of officers came from the trees to surround them. His hands still held Jed's wrist, trying to stop him from bringing the knife down. The man froze as more officers came out, their flashlights illuminating them.

"I repeat, drop the weapon now!" someone yelled fiercely.

The four of them burst out to join the officers, guns out and ready. Elliot saw them behind the man and his eyes widened in shock and relief.

Olivia's eyes immediately flew to her partner and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of all the blood on him. He looked exhausted and terrified.

Munch had his gun trained on the man standing over Elliot, his heart thudding anxiously. He swallowed hard and tightened his finger on the trigger, ready for anything.

Cragen's eyes widened when he saw the position of the knife and the way the man was gripping Elliot. His blood began pumping faster and he gripped the gun tighter.

Fin tightened his jaw angrily and aimed the gun right at the man's head. One move…one move toward Elliot and this guy was meat.

The tense standoff lasted only a minute, but it felt like hours. A sudden shot rang out and pierced Jed's shoulder, making him jerk and yell in pain. He dropped the knife and the officers swarmed them.

Elliot staggered back as officers stepped protectively in front of him, others restraining his attacker quickly. He gasped in shock, starting to shake as reaction caught up to him.

"Elliot," Olivia breathed as they ran past the officers toward him.

He looked even worse close up. His face and torso were bloody, his shirt ripped. His hands were tied in front of him and he was shaking. Dirty tear tracks had dried on his face and his eyes were exhausted.

The four of them surrounded him and began reaching to help support him. They were all surprised when he twisted and pushed at them before stepping back again.

"Guys, don't," he said breathlessly. He rested his hands on his knees and struggled to catch his breath. "I'm fine. I'm ok." He began wheezing, closing his eyes. His shoulders were shaking.

They glanced at each other worriedly, but didn't move toward him. He was obviously not ok; they all saw the spectacular wound on his shoulder and the ropes on his hands. He looked to be in shock.

He straightened after a minute, shakily taking a breath. His eyebrows furrowed suddenly and he pushed through his friends, startling them. He strode over to the officers holding the man quickly.

"There's another one," he said, pointing. "In the house…it's about five miles east." He gulped in a breath, suddenly feeling very nauseous. "The women….they-they're part of it too."

Haskins looked sympathetically at him before turning toward the officers. "Jack," he said, rounding up about ten officers with his finger.

He didn't even have to continue. The officer pulled his gun instantly. "We'll get them, sir," he said, looking at his colleagues. His face was twisted in anger. "We'll get them." With a nod at the sheriff, the group headed back into the woods.

He could see the detective trembling when he turned back to him. His eyes were filled with tears as he looked at him in exhaustion.

"The house," he stammered. "They-they're…they're in the house. They're in the house…"

The sheriff moved forward quickly and wrapped his arms around the younger man's shaking frame. He could see the other detectives rushing towards them.

"Easy, son," he soothed, supporting his weight. "Just take it easy…they'll get them. I promise."

Warm tears were sliding down his face now. Elliot felt a hand lightly grip his unhurt shoulder. Cragen stepped up, nodding his thanks to the sheriff as he slowly released him.

"Elliot," he said softly, gently pulling him towards them.

Elliot looked at him wearily and allowed him to slip his arm around him. He leaned into the embrace in exhaustion as the other three came up.

Olivia looked at the captain and he nodded, moving his arm from Elliot's shoulder and allowing her to take over. She wrapped one arm around his waist as Don started untying his hands. Fin and Munch were both applying pressure to the wound on his shoulder.

Don looked over at Sheriff Haskins and dropped the rope to the ground, lifting Elliot's hands and gently flexing them for him since he couldn't feel them anymore. After a brief glance at the others, he left him with them and walked over to where the man stood.

"Sheriff," he said softly, looking at him squarely. He offered his hand. "Thank you."

Haskins smiled gently. "I know how I'd feel if it was one of my men," he said softly, accepting the handshake. He jerked his head slightly. "I called two patrol cars to come give you a ride back to the helicopter…we'll take care of everything here."

Cragen smiled. "Thank you," he said again. "Thank your guys for us as well, please…are you sure there's nothing we can do to help?"

He nodded, clapping the other man's shoulder lightly. "Just get that boy home, Captain," he said softly.

He looked behind him to where the detectives stood and Don followed his gaze. Olivia was now hugging Elliot, who appeared to be crying. Munch stood on one side with his hand draped lightly over Elliot's collarbone wearing a sympathetic expression; Fin was on the other side with his hand on his back, rubbing gently while looking to be speaking softly.

The sight made a lump swell in the captain's throat. He swallowed hard and looked at Haskins again.

"We will, Sheriff," he said softly. "Believe me…we will."

The End

So…there it is. I'm actually surprised that this became a story; the idea popped into my head as I was preparing my next story and wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. Thank you to all who reviewed! The next one is in the works as always and will be up probably tomorrow- I know, I know…I have no life. There. I admitted it…happy: Thanks for reading.