Spencer looked around at the dark, familiar hallway, the faded wallpaper peeling at the seams and the light fixtures hanging loosely from their mountings. A woman's scream caused his breath to catch in his throat and he drew his gun, stalking quietly but quickly toward the noise.

A door at the end of the hall slammed, and another scream echoed through the building.

Spencer approached the door, taking a breath before gripping the doorknob. As his hand wrapped around the cold brass, he heard a gun cock behind him.

"Say it." The garbled voice demanded. Spencer turned. The figure stood in the shadows.

"Where is she?" Spencer demanded.

Slowly, and with heavy steps, the figure approached him. The shadows seemed to move as well, for the stranger's face was never visible.

"Stop!" Spencer shouted, leveling his gun at the stranger in the shadows.

"Say. It." The voice ordered heavily.

"I don't know what you want me to say." Spencer admitted.

"Say it." The voice repeated.

"Say what!? Who are you!?"

Spencer jerked awake, looking around at the nearly empty conference room at the Minneapolis police department. The file on his lap slid to the floor as he wiped his eye blearily. Across the room, Dave Rossi sat quietly, intently studying his tablet.

"Do you know you talk in your sleep?" Rossi asked without looking up as Spencer reached for the fallen folder.

"It's hardly surprising." Spencer replied clinically while he reordered the papers. "Sleep talking is most commonly found in children and men, and frequently brought on by stress and lack of sleep, something this job provides no short supply of."

"My second wife used to kick me out of bed for waking her up." Rossi said. "I'm surprised Avery hasn't mentioned it to you."

"Have you been talking to Morgan?" Spencer asked shortly.

"No. Should I?" Rossi arched an eyebrow. Reid said nothing as he went back to studying the demographic printouts of the victim's neighborhoods.

"Are you having nightmares again?" Rossi asked at length.

Spencer looked up, his thumb tapping against the manilla folder in thought before he closed it, turning to face Rossi directly.

"They're different this time." He admitted. "I'm... walking through this building, and I can hear this woman screaming. It's Avery. And all I can think is that something is wrong and I have to get to her, so I'm... looking for her... and every time, I – I see this person... and I don't know who it is, because the voice is all garbled and I can't see them, but they keep telling me to "say it."

"Say what?" Rossi asked, tilting his head in thought.

"I don't know." Spencer shook his head. "I know that I have to say something, or - … So I force myself to wake up."

Rossi leaned back in his chair, looking at Spencer seriously as he contemplated what the young man had told him.

"Diane threatened to kill you unless you told Maeve you didn't love her." He ventured thoughtfully.

"This has nothing to do with Maeve." Spencer said sincerely.

"Often, our brains will use situations that are familiar to us in dreams in an attempt to make sense of the unfamiliar, sometimes in completely unrelated ways." Rossi explained. "How are you and Avery doing?"

"You think my subconscious is conflating intense emotion with physical danger?" Spencer frowned.

Rossi shrugged. "I think, if you spend too much time trying to figure out a dream, you'll miss out on reality."

Hotchner opened the door. "Just got a call from the M.E. Gao Andrews died of hypothermia."

"She was alive when he dumped her?" Rossi asked in disbelief.

"Barely." Hotchner nodded. "She had been badly beaten."

"It's possible the unsub didn't know she was alive and thought he was dumping a dead body." Reid said.

"The rest of the abductions are tidy." Rossi said. "Gao's was too, until the bank withdrawal."

"He's not a killer." Hotchner deduced.

"He dumped the body off a well-known snow mobiling trail, but directly on a cross-country skiing trail." Reid said. "He's not from the area."

"Rossi, get a hold of Garcia. Have her do a search on any disappearances matching our M.O in the country over the last year. I'll get the rest of the team together." Hotchner said. "We're ready to deliver the profile."

The room waited while the team stood, the filled case board behind them, in the conference room-turned-FBI-base.

"We believe the unsub is a young male, probably in his thirties." Hotchner said. "It's likely he is good looking, and he is definitely charming."

"We believe he uses his looks and charm to lure his victims into trusting him." Rossi said. "Perhaps with a promise of running away together."

"While we do know the unsub is familiar with the area, he is not a local. More likely, this is a destination for him; a vacation, or stop on his way somewhere else." Reid informed the room.

"While the rest of his work is organized," J.J finished "the murder of Gao Andrews suggests he was out of his element, telling us that killing these women is not his prime motivation. More likely, his goal is trafficking."

"So these women could still be out there somewhere." An officer asked.

"We believe so." Hotchner confirmed. "Unfortunately, as time goes by, our chances of finding them before they disappear grows slimmer, which is why we're telling you who to watch for. This individual has had time to stalk his victims. He knew their routines, and knew when it was safe to strike. He may even have had some sort of relationship with them – perhaps a friendship or working relationship. His organization would imply he's been at this for some time, and his ruse suggests he's confident, so we are likely looking for a ladies' man, and one who is not shy about boasting about his conquests."

"He disposed of the body using a snow mobile." Derek Morgan continued. "So it's possible he's a winter sportsman who's in town to take advantage of the recent snowfall, so pay attention to restaurants, hotels, any place that becomes home to out-of-towners while they're staying in the city."

"If there are no questions, let's get to work." Hotchner dismissed the room full of police officers. "The sooner we find him, the greater the likelihood of finding the victims."

The officers filed out of the room, leaving the profilers alone once again in their makeshift base of operations. Hotchner's phone rang.

"You're on speaker, Garcia." He said as he answered.

"I pulled the files you wanted, sir, and there are a lot of them," Penelope Garcia began "But the most relevant are 15 cases scattered throughout the Midwest, all in larger or affluent cities. In each case, the wife went missing. Nothing was out of place at the home, and money was withdrawn from nearby ATMs."

"Send us the files." Hotchner said. "Reid, see what you can do for a geographical profile. J.J, Mr. Andrews has been informed of his wife. He'll be coming in again for further questions, and I want you to be there. Morgan and Rossi, go to the Andrews' house, let me know what you find."