A/N: I do not own CSI. Santa just doesn't want me to...le sigh

Without waiting for Grissom's reply, Brass strode out the door. Grissom wiped his face one last time and then followed the determined detective down the hallway and out of the crime lab. There were about 20 police cars lined up in front of the lab and twice as many cops milling around. The five CSI's that had been assigned to help were milling in a group around Ecklie who was giving last minute instructions to the investigators. Brass led Grissom over to where the sheriff was checking with Search & Rescue to see if they had found anything yet. When the man spotted Grissom and Brass, he wrapped up his conversation and turned to the two men.

"We're just about ready to pull out," he said grimly. "Search & Rescue has a fix on the location and they say they are fairly sure that your team is there. We've instructed them to set up a perimeter, but not to engage. You two will be riding with me in the lead car. Medical personnel are standing by to assess your team once we have recovered them. You guys ready to take this son of a bitch down?"

Grissom and Brass both nodded and the sheriff smiled grimly. He shouted at the uniforms to get ready and then motioned at Brass and Grissom to join him in the car.

A few minutes later the convoy of Taurus's, Denali's, and ambulances were screaming down an interstate out of town, all lights and sirens flashing and wailing. Grissom didn't notice the noise or the lights. He had thoughts only for his team and especially for Sara. It seemed to him that it took no time for them to cover the fifteen miles to their destination and, it felt like it was only seconds later that Grissom was standing outside the sheriff's car with a whole host of other police officers. The convoy had formed a semi circle around a small house in the middle of a deserted stretch of desert. The sheriff surveyed the area and then turned to Grissom, a grave expression on his face.

"Gil, I know this is going to be hard for you, but you're our only link to this psychotic son of a bitch. We think it needs to be you that makes the first move. This whole deal is obviously about your history with the perp. We'll cover you, but it's got to be you."

Grissom nodded. He had already known what the sheriff was telling him. In the end, he knew it would come down to just him and Reichman: Good cop versus bad cop. Grissom almost smiled at the irony. Brass stepped up next to Grissom.

"I'm going too," he said simply. Grissom felt a rush of gratitude for the detective. Before he could express this sentiment, however, they were heading towards the house.

Walking slowly, Grissom and Brass approached the only door of the small house. The investigator in Grissom noted the complete lack of footprints in the area and the lack of tire prints. There was something not quite right there, but Grissom pushed it out of his mind and continued towards the house. He did not have time to be a CSI right now. Not when the life of his team and the fate of his fiancé hung in the balance.

They finally reached the door and Grissom, thikning it was the most logical move, raised a fist to knock on it. It came open when he did and Brass gave Grissom a meaningful look. Grissom blanched slightly, but took his gun out and let it proceed him into the house. The room he had stepped into was empty of all furniture and decoration. Grissom swept the room once and then glance back at Brass who raised his walky talky and gave the all clear for the first room. Grissom looked around and saw a single door leading out of the room to the right. He pointed this out to Brass and the two men crossed the room carefully. Grissom pushed the door of the door open with his gun. He stopped at the sight that met his eyes. It drove the breath out of the CSI's lungs.

Greg Sanders was laying in the middle of the bare wooden floor. He was bound as he had been in the picture Grissom had received and he was still dressed the same way. The only difference was the bloody gash in the young CSI's forehead. Grissom swept the room with his eyes before rushing to Greg's side and placing two fingers to the boy's neck. Relief coursed through him as a strong pulse thudded against his fingers. The boy was out cold, but Grissom was sure he would be all right. Grissom looked up at Brass who was alread on the walky talky again and updating the force outside on the situation. A team of EMT's was in the house a moment later to check on Greg.

"Is he going to be okay?" Grissom asked them.

One of the EMT's glanced up at Grissom. "He's unconscious, but I think he'll be all right. He may have a concussion, but we'll be able to assess that better when we get him to the hospital.

Grissom nodded and then look at Brass, gesturing towards the next door. The two men approached it and, again, Grissom pushed it open with his gun. A double dose of fear coursed through the supervisor when he saw the contents of this room.

Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown were lying bound in this room. They, like Greg, were dressed in the same fashion they had been before and were also bound in the same fashion. The difference between their pictures and now was the blood that covered each of them. Nick's shirt was soaked with blood as were Warrick's pants. Grissom ran to Nicky's side and tore the shirt off the man's body. There were three distinct stab wounds to his left shoulder. Grissom pressed down on the wounds as Brass mouthed gunshot to him from his place by Warrick's side. Brass radioed for another two medical teams as Nick groaned and tried to open his eyes. Grissom's heart leapt.

"Nicky?" he said softly. "Nicky, can you hear me?"

Nick started slightly at the sound of Grissom's voice. "Gr – Grissom?" he said faintly.

"That's right, Nicky," Grissom said softly. "I'm here."

Nick's mouth twitched slightly and Grissom had the feeling that the CSI was trying to smile. "I…knew…you'd…find us…Grissom."

Grissom started to say something in return, but Nicky had fallen unconscious and Brass confirmed that Warrick was also not responding. Grissom felt anger course through him as he pressed on Nick's damaged shoulder. Grissom waited until the medics had arrived and stabilized Nicky and Warrick, then he and Brass headed for the next door. Grissom pushed this one open and again, felt a rush of fear as he rushed to the center of the room and dropped to floor next to the blood covered body.

"Catherine!" he yelled. "Oh my god… Catherine, can you hear me?"

It was definitely Catherine lying in the middle of the room, but Grissom probably wouldn't have recognized her if he hadn't seen the name on her CSI vest and the strawberry blonde hair that was fanned out around her head. Her face was mutilated beyond all recognition. Bloody slashes crisscrossed over every inch of her once beautiful face. It was almost as if Joseph had taken Catherine's beauty as a personal insult. Grissom doubted that she would ever look the same again. Brass, who was staring blankly at Catherine's face, radioed for yet another medical team and the two men, again, waited until Catherine had been stabilized before they proceeded on. Grissom turned to face the final door and took a deep breath before pushing it open and proceeding into the room.

Grissom stopped in the doorway, not quite comprehending what he was seeing. It was the final room, of that he was sure. There were no other doors leading out and there were no trap doors in the floor or ceiling. But if it was the final room then…

Where was Sara?

Another cliffie! hehe. I'm so mean. Please, R&R! That just makes my day!