Chapter 1

Author's note: Welcome to this new fic. I've done a couple of things on different platforms, but this is my first time ever doing a Teen Wolf fic. I hope that you enjoy my little idea. I am pulling some themes from other sources as far as my supernatural creature, but I will give a heads up when that comes along!

This will be my first long fic, as well. I'll do my best to update regularly, and I'm also trying to do my best to write ahead in case I get behind. Either way, I'm trying lol.

My inspiration for Maeve is Katherine McNamara.

She broke down the last box, satisfied that she had finally finished unpacking. Maeve was still settling in after 2 days from when she first arrived in Beacon Hills. Her mother made the random decision to move from the life that Maeve had always known, well, always remembered at least. Of course, if you ask her mom, it wasn't random at all.

"It's written in the cards, dear. They say I'll have the best success there! You know there's an uptick in interest in the strange and unusual these days."

Well, if you asked Maeve, she'd say shove the damn cards, that's no reason to uproot her from her life. She'd never actually tell her mother any of her thoughts on the matter, because despite everything, Maeve loved her mom. The woman was all she had.

And from what she understood from her mother, they had lived in Beacon Hills before. Maeve had some flashes of memories of living somewhere else and she really only remembered having a friend who she didn't know the name of. Things like jumping on a trampoline and eating snacks at her house. Playing with the girl's little sister sometimes (most of the time as the siblings were attached at the hip). The rest was a blur. She couldn't remember anything else, not what their home looked at the time, not her time at school, not anything, not even her dad.

Her mom said it was probably because they had moved after Maeve's dad died. She had no memories of her father, only flashes of emotions. She was only 8 at the time, so it would make sense if she couldn't remember the normal everyday things, but not being able to remember her own father? Something just didn't make sense about it. Her mother just kept reminding her that trauma affects people in different ways, and losing a parent is pretty traumatic in itself.

Maeve's mother, Evelyn Green, owned the new bookstore downtown, but it wasn't a normal bookstore. The books that her mother invested her life in were of the dark and supernatural. She was pretty sure her mom was a gothic teenager in the late 80s and early 90s and it overflowed into her choice of work.

Her mom also claimed to be a psychic on the side, but Maeve refused to believe that it was real. Her mom was just a little kooky, but she loved her all the same.

In all honesty, Maeve couldn't say anything about her mother's dark nature, as she had adapted it for herself as well. She was also interested in the strange and unusual and would give her left lung to be Lydia Deetz for just one day. She had an unhealthy obsession with 80s and 90s horror, and Halloween was her favorite time of year. Luckily for her, her mother's shop made it seem like it was Halloween year-round.

Maeve was pleased with the way her new room turned out, despite the irritation of having to move at all. The dark green walls made it feel cozy and she even had a window seat that was already full of the insane number of pillows that she owned. There may have been a couple of stuffed animals from her childhood (a turtle and a dragon), but Maeve was still trying to decide whether to keep those out or not (she was definitely keeping them out).

She had convinced her mom to let her keep the queen-sized bed she had in the old house. Her mom didn't want to bring it because it meant having to carry it up the stairs in the new place, but Maeve was not getting a new bed. She had only just gotten used to this one in the past year that she'd had it.

The black duvet contrasted perfectly with the dark green of her walls – the wall color carrying over to the color of the sheets. Maeve was keeping with the dark academia theme her mother loved so much and with a personality as bright as Maeve's, it was surprising by how dark her things were in color. (She attributed it to being a Slytherin-loving Hufflepuff.)

Just as she was about to sit at her desk, she heard her mom call out from downstairs.

"Maeve, I need to finish a few things at the store before I open tomorrow. Do you want to come and help?"

"Yeah, let me change," she shouted back down.

She loved helping at the store, but her mother required that she look the part of a dark yet beautiful bookstore clerk, which means her ratty tee and ripped jeans weren't going to cut it – that was reserved for t-shirt Fridays.

She rummaged through her closet until she found a cute dark brown plaid A-line skirt. It ended a couple inches above her knees, so she slipped on black tights for warmth and modesty, then grabbed a light brown sweater with a low V-neck that didn't show too much. She threw her strawberry hair into a messy bun on the top of her head to get it out of the way. She put her brown boots on, grabbing a dark brown blazer and her leather purse, and she was ready to go.

She glanced in the mirror to make sure her small amount of eyeliner and mascara hadn't smeared, but she realized she didn't have her necklace on. As she looked around the room, spotting it on the nightstand, she found the serch bythol pendant her father had given her the day she was born.

Thinking back on what her mother told her about the symbol made her smile. Her father had it specially made so that his daughter knew that she was the product of the everlasting love between her parents. She never went a day without wearing it, really only taking it off to sleep or shower.

With a final small smile to herself in the mirror, Maeve raced down the stairs to see her mother waiting by the door. Her mother went with a 90s era ensemble, wearing black overalls with a maroon long-sleeve underneath; complete with a flannel over-shirt and her original converse, they were ready to go. Maybe she didn't need to get dressed up since they were just putting up finishing touches today. Too late to change back now.

"Fashionable as always, mother," Maeve giggled, loving the care-free nature of her mom.

"You, too, dear," she smiled in response.

Maeve made her way to the car as her mom screeched that she forgot something inside. Maeve gave her a laugh, noticing her neighbor in the driveway beside hers. She could only see the back of his head as he washed his bright blue jeep. She could see the muscles straining in the back of his T-shirt, making her blush at the fact that something so simple could affect her. She could also see the muscles in his arms bulging every so often as he swiped the sponge across the hood. As he slowly made his way to the other side of his vehicle, dipping the sponge in the bucket on the way, she finally saw his face.

The first thing she noticed were his eyes as he deeply concentrated on his task, brows furrowed. He licked his lips and swallowed. A normal thing you do without realizing, but she was so caught up in that one little motion that she hadn't realized that he had finally noticed her.

She gasped silently to herself as their eyes met. His lips upturned in the slightest smile, and he gave her an awkward wave, soapy sponge still in hand. He waved a little too enthusiastically as the bubbles from the sponge started flicking around, one sud hitting him directly in the eye. He started to freak out with spastic little movements and a yelp that sounded more like a bird cawing as he hurriedly reached down for the water hose, quickly rinsing his eye out. In the process of removing the offending particle of soap, he soaked his entire face in water, as well as the front of shirt.

She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him, finding the situation to be ridiculously amusing. His gaze flicked back to her as he heard the laugh. She gave him an awkward, but less enthusiastic, wave of her own as she climbed into the car with her mother. With a final glance through the car window, she noticed he was sort of gaping at her, as if it was unbelievable that she still waved at him after everything that had just transpired.

Settling in, her mother started backing out of the driveway, and as Maeve glanced at her, she could see the smug little tilt of her mother's mouth.

"Don't say anything," Maeve groaned, already knowing what the look on her mother's face meant.

"I didn't," she started laughing outright. "Although now I will! He was cute!" Her mother continued to chuckle as Maeve slouched down in the passenger seat.

"Okay, I admit, he is very cute, and that entire thing was incredibly adorable, but there's no way a guy like that is single," Maeve relented. Not to mention she'd had one of her weird flashes the other day when she first saw him. A name had flitted across her mind, and whoever Lydia was, he had a deep emotional tie to her.

"You'll never know if you don't ask," her mother responded in kind. Maeve didn't speak for the rest of the ride, lost in her own thoughts.

When Maeve turned 17, she started having these weird flashes of emotions and sometimes pictures or words when she saw someone. At first, she thought she just had an overactive imagination, creating things in her mind, like how when you see someone, there are some thoughts that come to your head, like things you associate with that person.

And she would have been fine if that is all it was, but the intense emotions she felt made her feel like she was starting to go crazy.

What had really tipped her over the edge was the moment she had experienced these flashes and emotions around her boyfriend and the girl she thought was her best friend. The sexual tension between the two was palpable when she could actually feel what they were feeling, and the flashes of them together didn't help the situation any. So, she dumped both of them, and then her mom announced the move.

She didn't want those two idiots to think that they were the reason she moved, but it was too late now. And maybe it was good thing, because Maeve wasn't sure she could even handle being around them after everything. Great, now she was being a typical wishy-washy teen who couldn't decipher her own emotions about it all. She hated, yet also was grateful for the move in the end.

As they parked the car in front of the building, Maeve noticed an extremely well-dressed red head looking at the store from the sidewalk.

"Hi, can I help you?" Her mother asked, startling the girl. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Evelyn and this is my daughter Maeve," her mom gestured towards her. "I own this store."

Maeve finally took in the girl. She looked to be about the same age, maybe younger or older, it was hard to tell these days. It seemed they shared hair and eye colors, which Maeve found entirely endearing already. Her plump lips were glossed to perfection, and she looked like she had just walked out of a magazine. Maeve could only ever wish to look that good, especially in heels.

"Oh," the girl said, eyes widening as she relaxed. She gave them each a smile. "I was just doing some research and heard that we had a new bookstore opening in town, but I realize now that it isn't open yet."

"That's okay!" her mother answered cheerfully, walking to the front door, and unlocking it. "We open tomorrow, but if you wanted to take a look while we do some last-minute things, I think that'd be just fine."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude, especially if you aren't ready for customers yet," the girl said.

"Nonsense. Maeve can help you find whatever you need, right honey?" her mom gave her a look that said she didn't have a choice. Not that she would have even minded helping the girl beside her.

From what her mother told her, it was set up the exact same as her previous shop. She never closed her shop in Chicago, but it was slightly terrifying how quickly this new shop opened up. Maeve would have claimed magic if she believed in that kind of thing.

"Absolutely!" Maeve responded cheerfully. "Come on, I can help you find what you want, and you could maybe help me learn a bit more about Beacon Hills High School. I'm, unfortunately, starting tomorrow," She joked, coaxing a laugh out of the girl.

"Oh, am I the exact person to help you," she said. It seemed like her whole demeanor changed with that one sentence. She exuded confidence as she casually flipped her hair over her shoulder and followed Evelyn into the store, Maeve right behind her.

"My name is Lydia Martin," she said over her shoulder as Maeve closed the door. Her eyes widened for a second at the girl's name, wondering if it was the same Lydia her neighbor constantly thought about.

"Well Lydia, what are we looking for?"

"This may sound crazy, but I was wondering if you had any information on banshees?" she asked with a wince.

Maeve gave her a gentle smile. "The only crazy person in this store is my mother-"

"Hey! I heard that!" her mom interrupted as she yelled from the back of the store, making Lydia and Maeve laugh.

"Anyway, there's quite a bit of lore surrounding banshees. They are based on an Irish Myth, the Bean Sidhe, a branch of fae folk-"

"Are you saying that banshees are fairies?" Lydia asked incredulously.

"No, the fae. Yes, the word fairy was derived from the Fae, but you can't call them fairies," Maeve rolled her eyes with a smile. "It's not like what TV portrays, but there are tons of different types of fae. If I understand correctly, the Irish use fae as a broad term for different spirits." Maeve led Lydia around the store to the Irish folklore section.

"So, a banshee is a fae. What does that mean?"

"What are you asking?"

"What exactly is a banshee?"

"A banshee's scream is an omen of death. There are a lot of different versions of the myth itself," Maeve answered as she grabbed a couple of books off the shelf. "Some say she is an old hag whose screech is a curse, and that hearing it means that someone in your family is going to die."

"That's comforting," Lydia interjected sarcastically as she took the books handed to her.

"Well, there are also versions where the scream of the banshee is considered a good omen. They say she is beautiful with red hair," Maeve flicked her hair over her shoulder with a silly grin, causing Lydia to chuckle. "Some say it's not a scream at all and it could be a sorrowful, haunting song. They say it's a good omen because it can give you warning that something bad may happen, and if it's only a possibility, then you have time to change the outcome."

"I like that version better, but I'm not sure about the singing," Lydia raised an eyebrow. Maeve led her to the antique register at the front of the store.

"Yeah, me too. Although I believe a song would be easier on the ears than a screech, that warning wouldn't be too much of a warning at that point." Lydia gave her a smile in agreement. "Do you want to buy these books, or just rent them?"

"You rent books?"

"Absolutely. Of course, you still have to pay, but then it's not a permanent buy. Most people don't want other people knowing that they ever looked at books like the ones we sell. Plus, renting is cheaper." She flashed a smile.

"Well, I'll rent them, but only until I'm sure I want to buy them." Lydia pursed her lips in thought, and then gave herself an affirmative nod like she was sure with her statement. Maeve passed her a card to fill out, and rang up the purchase, satisfied with the loud ding the register made.

"So, Lydia, about the school," Maeve started, leaning her arms against the counter that doubled as a glass show case.

"Oh, yes! Okay, so show up like ten minutes early. Don't come any earlier than that, we are always fashionably late, because if we aren't, how are we supposed to make a dramatic entrance?" Lydia began, setting the books down on the counter, placing her hands on her hips. The stance was just too cute, and Maeve couldn't help but smile as the girl continued.

"Dress to impress, even something like you have on today would suffice, it's very chic, in a 'I'm a nerd but I still know how to be stylish' kind of way. And ditch the boots, wear a pair of heels-"

"Oh no, sorry, but the boots stay. I will fall on both my ass and my face if I try to walk around in those death traps you call shoes," Maeve interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. "And as much as I appreciate this attempt to look out for me, I will keep to my style. I promise you; I look good no matter what I'm wearing." Maeve stuck her chin out in defiance.

"Oh, I like you, very assertive," she grinned with unrestrained glee. It was slightly terrifying. "Ten minutes early?" she asked, raising an eyebrow like it was a negotiation.

"Okay, I concede," Maeve matched Lydia's grin, less maniacal though, as she walked her to the door. "Meet out front of the school?"

"Yes, see you tomorrow girl," they swapped numbers before Lydia waved goodbye.

Maeve locked the door, and when she turned around, she couldn't help the yelp that escaped. Her mother was standing right there with a huge grin on her face.

"You know, when I see you interact with people, it reminds me that I must have done something right. I mean, you're kind, but you also don't take shit from anyone. And you do it without being offensive!" Her mother threw her hands in the air like she was exasperated, but the smile threw the whole motion off.

"You know when I was your age, I was pissing people off left and right with my 'eat shit' attitude. The kindness must be from your dad," she turned around, picking a box up from the floor. She set it on the counter, pulling things out to set on the glass countertop for decoration.

"Mom, you've been nothing but kind as I grew up. I could have easily learned it from you. Your 'eat shit' attitude has always been reserved for the people who literally just needed to eat shit," she giggled, making her mom giggle, too, as she turned around to give her a hug.

Together, they continued putting the final little finishing touches around the store; spooky little decorations that added to the mystique of the shop.

When Maeve had finally fallen asleep that night, she was pulled into a dream that felt all too real to just be a dream.

She was in a classroom, but that wasn't what stuck out to her. There was a massive cut down tree trunk in the middle of the room, the desks haphazardly shoved to the sides as if a tornado had thrown them about. The floor and the trunk itself were covered in dead leaves, the crunch under her feet unmistakable. She looked down, realizing she was just in a T-shirt, the same thing she went to sleep in. Odd, she'd never been this self-aware in a dream before.

Her dreams usually consisted of fighting zombies in the zombie apocalypse, but she was always some cool character like Lara Croft, with her guns blazing and saving random people she'd never met before. Or, that one reoccurring dream where if you had a number on the bottom of your foot, you would turn into a velociraptor. She blamed that one on watching so much Jurassic Park when she was younger.

She'd never really been so aware that she was herself, and this dream felt unnaturally real to her.

Just as she was looking up, her cute neighbor walked through the door of the classroom.

"What are you doing here," he asked. She subconsciously realized that this was the first time she'd heard him speak aloud.

"I-I don't know," she answered, acutely aware of the fact that she only had underwear on under the shirt she was wearing. Luckily it was big enough to cover that part of her, but you could definitely tell that she didn't have shorts on. It seemed her neighbor noticed it, too, as he glanced down at her legs.

He cleared his throat as he looked back into her eyes, slowly coming closer. It was then that he noticed the tree stump in the room. He changed his path, walking towards the stump instead.

He reached out to touch it so slowly, his hands shaking like he was nervous. It was then she looked at the side of his face, watched as he gulped and she realized he wasn't nervous, he looked scared.

She suddenly had this overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"Don't- "she started, but it was too late. Just as his hand was about to touch the surface, vines shot out and wrapped around his wrist in a vice grip, pulling him.

Then the scenery abruptly changed. She was lying in, well, what she assumed was his bed, when he shot up abruptly, and she followed him, laying one hand on his arm, and the other on the same shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked as he gasped, trying to catch his breath. He sat dazed for a second, his breathing evening out as he took a final sigh.

"Yeah, I was just dreaming," he answered, sounding almost resigned.

She furrowed her eyes in confusion. If he wasn't dreaming anymore, then why was she in his bed. Maybe this was all just her dream, and she definitely wasn't awake yet.

"It was weird," he continued. "It was like a dream within a dream." He shook his head, as if he was trying to figure out something that she wasn't aware needed to be figured out.

"Was it a nightmare?" she asked, moving her hand to his, holding it. If this was her dream, she was going to do what she wanted. And that meant holding his hand as he was clearly distressed. She didn't know why, but she just wanted to comfort him.

"Yeah," he breathed out, reaching his other hand to put on top of their joined ones. He then looked at their joined hands, brows coming together in confusion. He looked back at her like he was finally realizing she was there. She locked eyes with him for a second, giving him a reassuring smile, but he just looked at her in confusion.

"Wait a sec", he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

She returned his look, "Is this not my dream?" she asked him, her brows now in a permanent state of fusion, just like his.

"I just woke up from a dream," he said slowly.

"If you aren't dreaming, and I'm not dreaming, then why am I in your bed?" she asked him.

He squinted his eyes as if she was a mystery he needed to solve. At the sound of the door creaking open, his head snapped up. They both stared at the crack of the door, and the darkness beyond it.

The longer she looked, the more she could recognize the feeling coursing through her: dread.

"Hang on," he muttered, getting up from the bed.

"Where are you going," she asked, not letting go of his hand from the tight grip she held it in.

"I'm just gonna close the door," he said, not moving his eyes from the darkness in front of them.

"You can't do that," she said, trying to pull him back down to the bed.

"No, no, I have to close it," he muttered again, trying to loosen her hand from around his. She put her other hand on his forearm, trying even harder to pull him back away from the door. "What if someone comes in?"

He successfully removed her hands from his body, taking a step towards the open door.

"Like who?" she asked, getting up on her knees to quickly get to the edge of the bed. She rushed to his side, returning her grip to his hand and forearm, following him as he walked slowly to the door. "Come back to the bed," she pleaded.

She didn't know what was awaiting in the darkness, but she didn't want to find out either. The dread had morphed into something darker, something she couldn't put a name to. It wasn't something she had ever felt before, but she knew it was bad, very bad.

"No, but what if they get in," he whispered, his hand tightening around hers. She glanced at his face, noticing the sweat covering him from head to toe. The look she saw there was similar to the one she saw back in the classroom. Instead of being scared, her neighbor looked absolutely terrified.

"What if who gets in," she lowered her voice to match his as she returned her gaze to the darkness.

He stopped right in front of the open door, swallowing audibly.

"Please, lets just get back in bed," she begged, but he wasn't budging, his features setting in determination. "Okay, we're doing this. For the record, I'm completely terrified and so completely against this."

She wrapped her body around his arm as he opened the door further and took a step into the darkness. Her body was trembling from the overwhelming sense of wrong she felt as they took two more steps in.

The scenery slowly changed to that of the forest, the giant tree stump the center of attention once again.

It was so strange. She could feel the earth beneath her bare feet, could feel the chill as she started to shiver. It was strange; she could even hear the crickets and other night creatures making noise in the background. This dream just felt so vivid.

"Okay, you took a look, let's go back," she said, leaning into his warmth as she tried to keep him walking, but the truth is that she just wasn't strong enough to stop him from going forward.

He glanced at her, like he was remembering she was still there with him.

"Just, stay next to me," he said. His words had an underlying tinge of a plea, one that she couldn't ignore. She gave him an encouraging smile.

"I'm not leaving you," she whispered, taking yet another step closer to him, her body almost melding with his, savoring his warmth. His lips barely upturned, but she took that as acknowledgement of her words.

As they took a few more steps closer to the ominous stump, Maeve heard the familiar sound of flood lights turning on, blinding them both.

The wind continued to whip around them, but her neighbor kept taking steps forward.

"It's just a dream," he said to himself. "It's just a dream, get it out of your head," he said as he started to shake, taking a step away from her. Their hands were still connected; she wasn't planning to let go, no matter what happened. "It's just in your head, Stiles."

She watched on in concern. If he thought he was dreaming, then what was she doing there. This entire situation was confusing. Was this her dream, or was she somehow stuck in his?

"You're dreaming, alright? So, wake up, Stiles," he continued to talk to himself, his voice rising with each word spoken out loud. He hit his head a couple of times in distress, "Wake up, Stiles," he yelled.

"Wake up!" he screamed, trying to rip his hand from hers to join his other on his head, but she held firm, her body following the movement of his tug.

She gasped awake, sitting up in her own bed, but something didn't feel right. It was still dark outside, and the clock beside her bed told her it was three in the morning.

She decided to open her window to cool her off a bit, and just as she had opened it, she heard a terrified scream.

Notes:

I've looked through multiple sources (so many it's hard to cite them all) for the lore around banshees. I just kind of combined them all in the hopes of bringing more details the further I get into the story.

I can't wait to reveal what Maeve is : )