Lydia can sense that Stiles was here. It's less of a sense and more of a feeling, similar to the kind she gets when she can feel that someone's dead. Luckily, it's not the same, so she knows that he's alive. She breathes a sigh of relief.

The tunnels are darker than Malia described them, but Lydia should have known better than to take the word of a supernatural werecoyote with night vision. Still, she can feel her way around the space and her flashlight does the rest. The stench of the tunnels is atrocious and the mold growing on all the walls creeps Lydia out. But she'd never show it.

"What is it?" Malia asks frantically after hearing Lydia's sigh. Lydia shines her flashlight in her direction in order to see her face. She regrets it the instant her eyes lock with Malia's. The look in her eyes hurts in more ways than one. In it, Lydia can see Malia's concern and love for Stiles. Lydia's feelings for him feel like a betrayal in a way they haven't since she discovered them, so she looks away.

"He was here," she responds. "And he's definitely alive." It's strange to her that she can sense him like this. She's never been able to do that before. Usually she predicts or confirms death. She's a Banshee, nothing else. Still, she can feel Stiles, can smell his scent and taste his lips, as if she's tethered to him. After taking a deep breath to push away the pain in her heart, Lydia follows the feeling down the tunnel to her right.

"Wait," Malia says. "I found his shirt in that tunnel." She points to her left, holding up Stiles' flannel. Lydia tries not to think about the image of him wearing it that swirls around in her head.

"Doesn't matter," she tells her. Lydia goes deeper into the tunnel with Scott and Malia following her. As she walks, images flash before her eyes, blinding her. Stiles, running from the Horsemen, his face bruised and bloody, his eyes searching for an escape route that isn't there. The Horseman, grabbing him roughly, causing him to scream out in pain. Ropes dragging him by the wrists towards an unknown destination, his torso and face scraping the ground of the tunnels. Stiles, laying on the dirty ground, bleeding and moaning, drifting in and out of consciousness, whispering one phrase repeatedly: "Damnatio memoriae".

Lydia falls to her knees, overwhelmed by the things she's seen. Suddenly, she can't breath. All she manages is an ear piercing scream and after that there's nothing left. Hugging herself around the stomach, Lydia remembers the last time Stiles said those words…

"Damnatio memoriae," Stiles announced, handing her a book he'd found at the library. "That's what it said." Lydia looked at the book and read the words. She knew what they meant but not what it had to do with anything. She shrugged.

"Condemnation of memory. But how does that help us?" she asked him. Stiles looked at her with wide eyes, his signature look of excitement. She knew he must be knee deep in research about this, because that's what Stiles did whenever there was a puzzle to solve. It was like his whole presence was lit up by curiosity.

"Well, back in the day, this phrase was used to mean that someone or something had been completely erased from history. It meant that someone had done something so terrible, so horrifying, that no one wanted it to be remembered, and so they made sure it was forgotten."

"That's nice to know, but that still doesn't explain how this information helps us," Lydia stated.

"Don't you see?" Stiles asked. "The beast we're after has already done plenty of damage. So much damage that it was erased from history entirely." He flipped the page in the book, pointing to a suspicious leap in years on a document of events. "You have to admit that it makes sense." Lydia looked at the book and realized that he was right. She turned to the page that documented deaths and saw a number of unexplained deaths that had happened within days of each other. The statistics were representative of a serial killer, but somehow the official documents seemed tampered with.

"Look at this," she offered, pointing to several deaths that all happened in the same day at the same place. "The official cause was documented as 'unknown forces', but it seems to me like it was a mass slaughter." She glanced up from the book and saw Stiles' expression drift the way it did when he would be working something out in his head. Lydia couldn't help but stare at him, knowing that he wasn't aware of her gaze.

The Stiles she'd met a few years ago was not the same Stiles she knew now. He was different, hardened in a way that made him stronger and wiser. But somehow, he had kept his boyish charm, that small, yet all important, piece of innocence and loyalty that was the fabric of his character. And without realizing it, she'd grown fond of this selfless, devoted boy, who had become a man when she wasn't looking.

She was definitely looking now. She was looking at the line of his jaw, admiring the way it was clenched while he thought. And she was counting the freckles on his left cheek, following them like constellations to his lips. Then she was staring at his eyes, wondering how she'd never noticed how beautiful they were, in the way that only complicated things could be. Lydia had never realized that dark brown eyes could hold such depth, as if they were portals to a world beyond her own. She wanted to jump into them, to see the world he sees.

The flutter of his long eyelashes broke Lydia out of her reverie. With a shake of her head, she banished all thoughts of wanting Stiles in any way.

"Lydia, I think I have a plan," Stiles told her, unaware of the strange racing of Lydia's pulse. He grabbed the book and began to leave but he stopped right at the door, turning back to face Lydia, who still sat in her chair bewildered by her thoughts. "Aren't you coming?"

Lydia hesitated before saying, "Yeah, of course."

"Good, because I can't do this without you." His words only added flames to the fire burning inside her.

As Stiles walked away, Lydia toke a deep breath and vowed to forget whatever strange emotion she had just experienced. She got up, brushed her skirt down and followed him. The feeling, without her permission, decided to follow her.

"Lydia," a voice says as she drifts into consciousness. "Lydia!" She opens her eyes and gasps at the sight of Scott and Malia. Looking around, she realizes that they're no longer in the tunnels but at the animal clinic.

"What happened?" she asks. They exchange a worried look. She knows what it means. "I remember going down to the tunnels and looking for Stiles but what happened after that?" Scott and Malia both look relieved to know that she hasn't forgotten.

"You collapsed and we searched the tunnels but couldn't find anything. We were worried about you so we took you back here." Lydia nods, understanding that they had not come any closer to finding him.

"Why'd you collapse?" Malia asks in the straightforward manner only she could use.

"Hey, give her some time to regain her bearings," Scott commands.

"Time's not on our side," Malia states. "Plus, she screamed before she passed out, so I want to know what's going on." Lydia thinks back to the tunnel and the visions she had of Stiles come back to her. There's no way to tell if they were real but she feels as if they were.

"It's okay, I can tell you what happened. Or, rather, what I saw."