A/N: Hi there! It's been a while and I'm glad to be back. See the rest of my A/N at the end of the story.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Spoilers for Seasons Six and Seven.

The outcome is different, but it always starts the same.

She is running. Not jogging to improve her health. No, she's running for her life. Someone is hunting her, and she knows exactly who it is. Once he gets hold of her, he will kill her. There's no doubt about it. So she's running.

The ground under her feet is bumpy. It's dark. She can't see anything, and somehow she knows that she wouldn't recognize her surroundings even if she could. At first she thought she was outside, perhaps somewhere in the woods, because of the bumpy ground and the damp smell. Then she realized that this is a basement. A trap, if she doesn't find a way out.

Her body urges her to slow down. The muscles in her legs ache, and her lung needs more air with every breath. Nonetheless she doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, because he's still there. Right behind her.

In spite of the darkness she makes out a shadow that turns into a ramshackle wooden stairs when she comes nearer. She has no time to think about whether it is the right decision to run up the stairs. She acts on pure instinct when she does so and pushes open the door at the end of the stairs.

In an instant she is blinded by bright sunlight, illuminating the interior of the house. It's a beautiful old building with high ceilings and wood carvings, but no-one seems to live here. There is no furniture, no sign of another human being. No-one to save her.

When she realizes this, she eventually stops. It's as if her body already has accepted the unavoidable and finally given in, even if her mind hasn't processed the information yet. She breathes heavily and all the same hears his steps running up the stairs and approaching her from behind. She doesn't turn around.

By now she knows she is dreaming, and due to the turn the events have taken, she knows how this dream will end, that this time she will not be able to outrun her hunter. This is neither the first time she has this dream, nor will it be the last. She is not able though to force herself to wake up, and unfortunately the knowledge that this is just a dream, that it is not real, doesn't soften in any way what happens next.

Fear shoots through her body like a wild animal trying to free itself when she feels his hands around her neck. She closes her eyes, tries to will herself into an acceptance she isn't ready for in the least. This is just a dream... But everything tells her to fight, because she doesn't want to die. She wants to live, to be alive, to feel alive. This can't be just a dream. No dream can be so real. No dream can scare her that much beyond all description.

He is so close now that she feels his breath on her skin. The pressure of his hands around her neck increases slowly but steadily. He could be caressing her or strangling her or maybe both at the same time. Still she doesn't turn around. The fear has taken control over her body. Despite the fact that she is almost hyperventilating and her pulse rate threatens to go through the roof, she is frozen in shock and unable to move. The only good thing about it is that she won't give him the benefit to see the anguish in her eyes while he is killing her.

And so it happens. Her pulse rate slows down, her heart rate drops, her breathing stops. And all she can hear is a silent scream in her head, all she can think, before the final darkness consumes her, is that she wants to live, to be alive, to feel alive.

Emily wakes with a start. It is dark outside and heavy rain is drumming against the window. She fell asleep on her couch; the book is still in her lap.

Her throat is dry. She is not sure whether she is talking in her sleep, perhaps even screaming, there's no-one around to tell her, but she suspects it all the same. This dream was one of the really bad ones. Her hands shake when she puts the book away. Somehow she knows that this time it won't work, won't be enough; nonetheless she reels off her usual routine after one of her nightmares. She stands up, turns on all the lights in her apartment and pours herself a glass of water. Yet her hands won't stop shaking when she drinks it and when it doesn't get better after a while, despite her desperate efforts to calm down and breathe regularly, she eventually acknowledges to herself that this is one of those nights.

One of the nights where it won't go away.

One of the nights where she needs him.

To feel alive.

To be continued

A/N: Ok, first of all, I know the *nightmare scenario* is definitely not a new one in the world of ff. But, really, after all that happened Emily has to have nightmares, and this is how I'd expect them to be. Plus I had to scratch that itch that told me that it's time to write another story and this came to my mind.

Story won't be long. Perhaps a two or three shot, don't know yet exactly. We'll see. Besides the nightmares I think that there are some issues between Hotch and Emily, regarding the decision to fake her death and her time in Europe apart from the team, that haven't been touched yet on the show. So this will be part of the next chapter(s). I hope you enjoy it!

Having said that, of course it would be really, really great if you left a review. Every review will be kind of a pre-Christmas gift to me and very special. Ho-ho-ho :)