It's dark, darker than it had been in the pictures, darker than it had been when Doyle had been there. The fluorescent bulbs flickered weakly, casting stark shadows across the brick walls of the warehouse. This wasn't where she was supposed to be. This was what Derek did... or Hotch or Rossi. Her place was guiding them not stumbling into the darkness with nothing but the little flashlight she kept in her purse. She was scared, terrified. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that Emily was in trouble.

It was a strange thought to have, maybe. Emily was dead it didn't get any more "in trouble" than that. They'd buried her weeks ago but this place, the pictures of that little boy, all the memories of her dear friend... it haunted her dreams, woke her in the middle of the night crying and too scared to even reach out for Kevin. People got close... and then they left. That was how things worked. Somehow, here in dreams, her mind insisted differently though. If only she were a little braver, a little faster, a little bit more surely she could find Emily, save her, rescue her friend from this.

The beam of her flashlight trembled though and she didn't know what she was more afraid of... Doyle, that hideous man out there in the dark, or not finding Emily in time, losing her all over again. She didn't know where she was going though, didn't know where she was. Her heels clicked ominously on the concrete floor, giving her away even with the small, almost shuffling steps she took. It didn't matter how scared she was though, she'd told Emily they were coming for her and she'd meant it. "E-Emily?"

They wouldn't fail her again.

"EMILY!"