#banshee!reader

Planting your hands behind you on the desk you lean back some, inclining your head softly to the side, “What were you looking for me for?”

“Help.”

You nod slowly, dark fingers tapping against the edge of the table. This man doesn’t exactly give off the vibe of someone who needs (or trusts) help from anybody, but part of your job was literally helping people so you couldn’t call bullshit just yet.

You make sure to keep your expression open.

“Cool. What can I help you with, Mr… ?”

At your light prompting it’s like a flip switches and he suddenly remembers he has to seem far less suspicious than he’s otherwise been coming off.

His face loses its tension and in response you relax the tiniest bit as well.

“Hale,” he easily answers the inquiry.

The name pings at something familiar in your head. Hale…Hale? Ah!

“As in Talia Hale?”

The man’s eyebrows go up and a cool smile takes over his face.

“Yeah actually. I’m surprised you’re old enough to remember.”

You give him a tight lipped smile. He definitely isn’t looking to make a light library request if he’s a werewolf whose purposely sought you out.

“I’m in my 20’s actually. I went to school with Derek.”

He hums, a sound that might actually be signifying a genuine moment of interest.

“You know what? I thought your name sounded familiar.” He points to you, a roguish smile stretches across sharp features. “You were the basketball team’s manager, weren’t you?”

You snort despite yourself.

Out of all the reasons he could have remembered you by - the most likely of which being that you were one of the scant few black student body that went to BHS - that it was for basketball was a pleasant enough surprise.

“Yeah, I was, actually - and since you’re not Derek I’m gonna guess you’re his uncle.”

“Yes well,” he makes a low sound and meets your eyes, “I am his uncle. Peter.” He holds out his hand.

You only have a second to eye it in contemplation before it becomes socially unacceptable, but he’s got a really intense stare and you’re already nervous about this whole thing, so you end up biting the bullet before you can really think your decision through.

Hastily, you accept his outstretched hand to shake and immediately he uses the connection to pull himself closer. It forces you to knock your head back a bit to keep looking him in the face, your own face heating up.

Peter chuckles. It’s smooth and feels just a little patronizing and makes your eyebrow raise.

Those alarm bells from earlier start kicking up a fuss, whirring through your bloodstream like a tsunami. You keep a tightly controlled lid on it, but just barely.

Even as a beta Peter Hale was dangerous.

“You gonna stare at me with those pretty eyes all day, or you gonna tell me what you need?”

The corner of his eyes crinkle and his smile widens. His hand is still inhumanly warm against yours.

“Don’t knock yourself short, your eyes are pretty too.” He blinks down at you, eyes twinkling for a brief moment. “Like cognac diamonds.”

You bite the inside of your lip as Peter leans in even more, planting one of his hands next to yours on the table. Your breath speeds up as your bodies graze one another.

Casual as anything Peter leans down till your heads are level so he can whisper.

“Let’s cut the pretense, shall we, I know what you are.” Instantly you tense up again, eyes widening. Now his presence so close to you feels burning hot; nearly suffocating. Your palm is getting sweaty and your fingers are starting to creek at his tightening hold.

You swallow thickly, licking your lips. His breath puffs warmth onto the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to sprout along your brown skin.

“I'm going to need to use those abilities of yours.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You bite your lip harder after the poorly hidden shakiness in your voice meets your ears. The man - the wolf looming over you chuffs, voice going back to normal.

“Come on, Sweetheart. We both know that’s not true.” He straightens up then, his now free hand coming to press into his chest. “Let’s make this easier. I’m Peter Hale, big bad werewolf; and you’re Y/n L/n, prettiest banshee in Beacon Hills.”

“There’s other banshees in this town.”

He nods.

“Oh I know, but I’m not much into children and she wouldn’t be my type anyway. Now, you’re going to help me because teenage girls are brats.”

Your jaw works as you stare up at him. There’s not much you could even do in this situation other than go along or get your throat ripped out. You’d overheard some…things about Peter from your father the night he was admitted into the hospital that you’d rather not get a personal example of. Pack left hand, ruthless, it was good he wasn’t able to cause any more trouble.

“Fine,” you force out.

Eyes dropping, you glare daggers into the floor as he chuckles.

“Good choice.” He starts dragging you off towards one of the back rooms, “Now how advanced in your birthright are you? And who activated you?”

Your jaw clenches but you make yourself answer anyway.

“Since I graduated high school,” you glare at his back, “and not a who, a what.”

“Ah,” Peter nods and gestures for you to unlock the door. “The nemeton?”

Snatching your key ring from your pocket you shove the correct one into the hole and the second the key’s pulled back he’s knocking it open and shoving you in before him.

You stumble but quickly spin back around to keep your eyes on the werewolf.

“Yes,” you snap, “the nemeton was left defenseless and was just reacting to the only supernatural beings left, dormant or not.”

Peter locks and then leans against the door.

“Me and you,” he says, crossing his arms.

You hum an affirmative and go about shoving your rumpled clothes back into place.

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Noted.”

He has the audacity to throw you yet another one of those roguish smiles before those angelite eyes flash a supernatural electric blue.

That thing deep within you that turns your eyes white and forces a wail from your throat when death’s near rumbles inside your chest in response. You glare at Peter, shoving it down.

“Just tell me what you want.”

He claps before pulling a brown ornate jar out from behind his back.

“I want you to tell me what memory is trapped in these,” he scowls, “the full memory.”

“No shit,” you grunt.

When you reach for the jar he puts it more out of reach and inclines his head to give you a reproachful look though. You roll your eyes, the one time a man shows some interest in you and it’s this guy.

“I get it. The full memory or you’ll rip my throat out with your teeth or whatever.”

He scoffs but hands you the jar. You start to untwist it.

“The whole throat teeth thing is much more my nephew's style. No, I like to use my claws. There’s zero need for blood in my mouth when it’s sticking to my clothes.”

You grimace. Damn v-neck wearing bastard. No stable person talked like that, he was crazy, and you say as much out loud.

“So you're crazy?”

He laughs, sounding a little startled, and you dump the five werewolf claws into your palm. Ooookay.

“I’ve got to say, I like you way more than the other banshee I know.”

You grunt.

“Martin’s daughter, right?”

“Just the one,” he drawls.

You nod vaguely while inspecting the claws, turning them over with the fingers of your free hand. They’ve got a distinct hum of magic around them still, a particular frequency.

“These are Talia’s,” you state.

“Oh you are on a roll today, Sweetheart,” his eyes run over your body appreciatively before jumping back to your face. His smirk only widens at the unimpressed look you’re giving him, “now just tell me what she took from me.”

You give him one last pinched look before closing your eyes and clamping your fist around the sharp points. You exhale and focus on the frequency.

Alphas. Head of their packs. Crimson eyes. Leaders. Wolves. Chosen protector of Beacon Hills, burned alive on its lands after years of successfully protecting it and the people within it.

Your eyes snap open. They’re white. White like snow or powdered sugar. Like your mother’s favorite blanket on the back of the couch or like the steam from the pot when you whip up some soup when you’re missing your grandma like hell. White like the froth from crashing waves, like the blur between the mother, the spirit, and the crone when they flash before mortals eyes. White like the void between life and death.

The blank image before you, as you see with different eyes, flashes into one of a black haired woman. Talia Hale. She’s standing beside a chair, a chair Peter’s sitting in. Another flash and a screaming woman is there, talking about a baby and Peter and how it’s taking her power goddamnit!

You gasp, eyes blinking back to the present and keel forward, dropping the claws to the floor in the process. You barely make out the tiny clinks of them hitting the vinyl, hands resting on bent knees as harsh breaths rush from your chest.

Peter’s suddenly there, the claws are no longer on the ground and the jar’s nowhere to be seen. He grabs your forearms and then hefts you upright, shaking you.

“What? What was it? What’d you see?”

You groan and try to shake him off but he doesn’t budge. His grip only gets tighter.

“Fuck you,” you gasp. “You’ve got a kid - a Coyote wer - somewhere here in Beacon.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I’ll catch any typos later.

In retrospect it really is wild how little black people were in Teen Wolf. Like, off the top of my head there was only four, I think.

“Bobby!” The scream lasted about one minute and reverberated around the entire lot. 

It had enough force to knock Dick Roman to the ground and dislodge the bullet he was shooting enough so that it didn’t fatally hit Bobby in the head; instead it hit his side. 

Everyone had their ears covered until your scream was done and you collapsed due to the pressure of the scream. Dick Roman was still lying on the ground, unmoving. 

“Y/n!” Dean called from the van, “we have to go!”

You raced to the van and hopped in next to Bobby, who was struggling to breathe. You turned around in time to see Dick Roman start to stir and look up from the ground.

“It’s going to be okay Bobby.” You whispered, applying pressure to his wound.

A song flowed from your mouth, it was filled with sorrow and concern for Bobby. The boys didn’t seem to hear it, but Bobby relaxed and slipped into a sleep, following the sound of your song.

~~~

Luckily the hospital approached quickly and Bobby was whisked away into one of the makeshit rooms where the doctors assessed his situation quickly. You sighed heavily as you sat down on one of the plastic waiting chairs. 

Dean walked over to you and sat down slowly, resting his head on your shoulder. You placed your hand on his knee and you both sat in silence while Sam was talking with one of the doctors.

“Hey,” Sam said when he walked of to the two of you, “so the doctor says there’s a really good chance of him being fine, he’s going into surgery now.”

You sighed in relief, hanging your head onto your hands. You felt Dean’s hand rest on your back, he didn’t move it, he just rested it there. Sam told you he was going to go get some coffee and to call him if there was anymore news. 

“Thank you for saving Bobby,” Dean whispers, “without your scream, things would’ve ended up different.”

“You might be the first person who’s thanked a banshee for her scream, normally a banshee’s scream is an omen of death.” You say, turning your head to look over at Dean. 

He stays quiet, thinking over what you’ve said,

“What was the song you were singing in the car?” 

You paused, “you heard that song?”

It was a shock, normally only the people who are on death’s door can hear a banshee’s song. Though you supposed that Dean might have heard it because he’s been on death’s door many times. 

“Yeah, I heard the song, what’s the song?” Dean asked, and he looked a little confused by your shock.

“I... actually don’t know what the songs called,” you respond, thinking about it for a couple seconds, “it’s just a banshee’s song, I don’t think it has a name.”

You and Dean remained quiet for a little bit, Sam joined you minutes before the doctor came to talk to you three,

“The surgery was a success, he is resting now but you can go see him if you want to.” 

You, Dean, and Sam jumped up and quickly followed the doctor into Bobby’s room. His eyes were closed but the moniter said his heart was steady and you relaxed once you saw him breathing. 

“Hey idjits,” Bobby mumbled, shifting in the hospital bed a little, “give me a pen and some paper.” 

Dean snatched the clipboard at the end of the bed and gave it to Bobby, who wrote numbers down onto the paper then gave it to Sam. 

“Something Dick is cooking up.” Bobby said, going to explain more until you stopped him,

“Bobby you should rest up, you can tell us all about it once you get better.”

Bobby nodded then dozed off into a light sleep. You, Sam, and Dean all sighed and sat heavily on some chairs that were next to the bed. 

~~~

Everyone woke up to the sound of a nurse coming into the room. The bags under Bobby’s eyes were already disappearing and him and the boys looked more rested.

“So when can I leave?” Bobby was asking when your brain caught up with you.

“A couple weeks at least, you had a pretty bad accident.” She explained.

Sam waved his phone and mouthed the name ‘Jody’ before leaving the room. The nurse was talking with Bobby when Dean motioned for you to follow him.

Once you two were a ways away from Bobby’s room Dean wrapped his arms tightly around you. You were shocked at first but quickly returned the embrace, placing your hands gently on his back.

“We almost lost him.” Dean whispered.

You nodded against Dean’s shoulder, waiting for him to continue.

“That was one of the most stressful moments in my entire life; I don’t know what I would do without Bobby.”

“I don’t know what any of us would do,” you replied, “but for now we don’t have to worry about it, because Bobby is going to be fine and we are going to kill the monster that did this to him.”

Your words of reassurance and encouragement helped to steady Dean’s heart and he released you from the embrace a few seconds later.

You clapped Dean on the back and smiled before walking back to Bobby’s room, Dean close behind you.

When you two walked into the room Bobby, Jody, and Sam were all smiling at you.

“What did we miss?” You ask, stopping in the doorway. Dean walked in a little further, eyebrows raised in question.

“These two claim that you idjits were making out right in front of my room while I’m on death’s door.” Bobby explained. You could see Jody and Sam struggling to hold in their laughter.

“Okay one, we were not making out; and two, you are not on death’s door.” You said, pointing at Bobby.

“Yeah what she said.” Dean followed up, glaring at the three of them.

“Sure.” Sam said with an exaggerated wink. This caused Jody, Sam, and Bobby to start laughing and while Dean just rolled his eyes, you grabbed an extra pillow and threw it at Sam.

I planned for today to be a nice relaxing day around the pack but it would seem that wasn’t what the universe wanted.

As soon as I stepped foot in the McCall house I knew something was off. I walked to the living room with my guard up and once I got a look around I noticed what was amiss… there were two extra wolves here.

“What’s going on?” I asked, looking to Scott and then to my sister.

“A lot, a lot is going on,” Stiles said while eating some popcorn.

“What are they doing here?” I still hadn’t moved from my spot.

“They’re pack,” Scott said as if that would fix everything.

“Pack?!” I looked at him like he had two heads. “If they were part of this pack they wouldn’t have left! They would have stayed here with their pack! They aren’t pack, no, you know what they are?” I finally looked at them for longer than a second, “They’re deserters! Omegas even,” my voice laced with venom.

“N/N-” Isaac started.

“No! You don’t have that right anymore,” I yelled. “Neither of you have that right.”

“Y/N calm down, please,” my twin said.

“I am calm,” I replied.

“Just be nice Y/N,” Scott huffed.

I slowly turned to look at him and narrowed my eyes.

“Oh no,” my sister said. “Cover your-” she didn’t finish as I had cut her off.

I was a banshee just like Lydia, I had managed to zone in on my scream and was able to aim it at specific people, like I was doing now, to Scott. It hit him harder than it hit the others.

I stopped screaming and stood there looking around, my eyes feel on my twin. “I’m sorry Lydia,” I apologized and left.

I was different, I always had been. Lydia was smart, popular and she didn’t let her anger get the best of her. I was the opposite, I was smart but not as smart as Lydia, I wasn’t popular I mean I was because of Lydia but I didn’t enjoy the spotlight like she did and I always let my emotions rule my life.

Earlier was an exact example of that. Lydia always stayed with me after I did something I shouldn’t have and she was able to keep me out of trouble. Except now, now I don’t think she’ll be able to talk my way out of this.

I had made it to my favorite spot in the forest now. I layed down on the dirt and closed my eyes.

“Lydia is something else,” I opened my eyes and sat up.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Mr. Everyone Loves Me.

“I thought I should check on you, make sure you're safe,” he sat down next to me.

“I don’t need protection,” I layed back down.

“I know,” was all he said before we entered silence.

We didn’t say anything. We just lay there side by side looking at the sky.

After sometime he had grabbed my hand and I let him. I squeezed his hand a little but said nothing.

We didn’t have to say anything really because no matter how much I pushed he would always be there for me when I need him and when I don’t know I need him, like now.

We stayed there until the sunset and longer than that… until my phone rang. I ignored the call and not soon after the ringing stopped his phone started to ring.

“We should probably get back,” he said.

“Not yet,” I closed my eyes and let out a low pitched yell.

A little while later and the forest came to life.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“I learned how to a few months ago. I always do it about an hour or two after the sunset,” I opened my eyes.

“It didn’t hurt my ears,” he whispered.

“I can tune my voice,” I looked over at him. “We can go now.”

He stood up and held a hand out to me. I took it and stood up dusting myself off.

Just like before we didn’t really talk on the way back home but we did hold hands, as childish as that sounds.

He walked me all the way to my front door. “Thanks. You really didn’t have to,” I looked up at him.

“I know,” he said. “I also know why you always have your guard up with me.”

“Theo-” I started.

“No I get it. Your best friend and brother left and that messed you up,” he cut me off.

“How-”

“Lydia told me,” he cut me off again. “She also said that if I hurt you she’ll make sure I stay in hell this time…”

“Someone needs a talking too,” I looked towards the front door.

“It’s not all her fault. I asked her about it, well I kept bothering her until she told me,” he admitted looking down. “And if you still don’t want me around I’ll keep my distance and-” I kissed him before I had any idea what I was doing.

“I’m sorry I-” I started to say but this time he’s the one who shut me up.

We broke apart, “We’ll go slow,” he determined.

“Yeah,” I nodded my head.

And then the front door opened, “Y/N! Where have you been?!” Lydia exclaimed.

“I’m home now,” I looked to her.

“Get inside this instant,” she demanded looking between Theo and I.

“I’m going,” I looked to Theo. “I’ll see you tomorrow Theodore,” I kissed his cheek and went inside completely missing the ‘I got my eyes on you’ Lydia sent Theo.

I heard a knock on my door, “come in.”

Lydia strutted in and sat on my loveseat, “tell me everything,” she looked at me expectantly.

I rolled my eyes but told her what happened from the moment I left Scott’s house to the moment she opened the door on us.

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