Saving Grace

01

Season Four

Stiles and Emma were sitting on her bed. Stiles suddenly perked up. "You remember how Derek's missing? And how you had those feelings?"

Emma frowned. "So you're saying we need to go to Mexico. We already know."

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, and the sooner the better."

"I guess it helps I'm already packed. Listen, Stiles, with what happened with the others when they saw me..."

Stiles took her hands. "Em, they just need to adjust to you being back."

"What if they never do?"

"They will, Emma. Just give them time."

They made their way to Mexico.

Stiles, Lydia and Emma walked cautiously through a Mexican town. Emma took in the surroundings. She saw a Mexican village high above a mesa. They were in a desert, which made her miss the trees of Beacon Hills more than she thought.

"This doesn't seem so bad," Stiles noted, noticing the discomfort Lydia and Emma were showing.

Lydia shook her head. "It's not the town, it's the plan."

Stiles frowned. "What's wrong with the plan?"

"Stiles. This could be the stupidest plan we've ever come up with. You're aware of that, right? Emma?"

Stiles sighed. "I'm aware it's not our best."

Emma met his eyes. "Not our best? I'm afraid I have to agree with Lydia on this. We jumped in with no plan as to how we're going to rescue Derek."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but nodded, admitting Emma was right as Lydia said, "We are going to die."

"So you're not saying it as a Banshee and just being pessimistic?" Stiles asked.

"I'm saying it as a person who doesn't wanna die."

Stiles groaned. "Okay. Would you two mind restricting any talk of death to actual Banshee predictions or whatever Emma can do?"

Their voices quieted as they reached a doorway. Two men blocked the door and Stiles showed a large card with a stylized skull to the men, and they cleared the doorway allowing us to enter. They walked down a darkened hallway. Emma held Stiles' hand. Eventually, they stopped in front of two large wooden doors.

"This plan is stupid and we're going to die," Lydia stated.

Emma shot her a look.

At the same time, Stiles said sarcastically, "Oh, thank you."

"Mmm," Lydia hummed.

They opened the doors and walked into the dance club. Emma winced briefly at the loud music and bright lights, but quickly adjusted to the change of scenery.

They made their way to the bar and were each served a shot. Lydia tried to reject to reject them, but the Hispanic man said, "No. On the house. Most American teenagers don't cross the border to refuse a drink."

Lydia dropped a brass bullet with the same stylized skull into one of the shot glasses. "We didn't come to drink."

The man took them into another room and they came face-to-face with a woman. As they sat across from her, she was working on a piece of cloth and was using a small, curved blade to rip the seams. Without looking at them, she said, "Severo hates this music. Me? I've always loved the music of youth. This kind, especially. It has a savage energy."

Lydia didn't waste another moment, and delved straight into why we were here. "We're here for Derek Hale."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"