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mmoosen · 6 months

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Spooktober 2023 - Day 29

Spooktober Prompts by @wolfboy88

It's Spooktober!!!☠️🎃🔮🪄🩻🍬

The prompt for today is Banshee. This is a Banshee! Nolan Holloway fic, idea originally from @thiamsxbitch so ty ty ty

Beacon Hills Tribute

Weekly Obituary

Dennis Alberts passed away at the age of 64, on November 14th due to a car accident. He was involved in a three-car pileup on 35th Street and Middle Street on Monday. Mr. Alberts was injured and transported to Beacon Hills Memorial where he succumbed to his injuries. Mr. Alberts leaves behind his wife, Anna, and two children, Reese and Shane Alberts. Dennis, originally from Maine, moved to Beacon Hills at 20 when he opened the Sweets and Treats Candy Shop on Main Street. His funeral service will be held…

Gwyneth Lopez passed away at the age of 86, peacefully in the presence of her family, in the Beacon Hills Retirement Home. Gwyneth lived her entire life in Beacon Hills, spending over fifty years at the Smith’s Pharmacy before retiring and becoming an active volunteer at the Beacon Community Center. Mrs. Lopez leaves behind five children and three grandchildren. The funeral service will be held….

Rosita Dawns, 27, of Reno, Nevada, died while solo camping at the Beacon Hills Preserve campsite. Miss Dawns had been studying Nursing at Beacon Hills Community College for the last year. The service will be in Reno at …

Nolan wakes up from a dream that felt more like a nightmare.

His heart is still racing, heavy breaths as he tries wrecking his brain for what just happened. This shirt is stuck to his back and his vision goes in and out of focus, too disoriented to fully see for a couple second. As he takes deeper breaths in, he can finally recognize his dimly lit room, including his little rat dog, Diego, on the foot of his bed. Nightmares weren’t new to Nolan, especially not in the past year, so he knows he’ll need to get some water before trying to go back to bed. As he kicks his feet out of his rumpled blanket, he feels Diego jump down and both shuffle out of his room into the kitchen. He gets a glass of water from the tap and leans against the sink, trying to remember what had woken him up. Usually, he could remember because his nightmares were always the same, the same monsters, the same dying friend, or the same night on repeat. But his mind was empty this time; he could only catch split seconds of what happened but couldn’t hold onto it.

Unable to think straight and seeing the sun rising up, Nolan takes his water to the TV and turns on some dumb rerun to waste time until he has to go to school on that Monday morning.

The rest of the day, Nolan has to fight to stay alert in his classes; he’s hopelessly bored through his morning classes and just waiting for his afternoon art class. But as his attention keeps shifting away from the teacher’s monotone lectures to zoning out peering outside, he finds himself writing down any random word he hears, desperately trying to keep up on the notes without paying attention. Fifth period economics is painfully loud and equally boring; every time his attention is lost, he continues writing. After watching two squirrels fight, Nolan focuses back into the lecture about something with supplies. As he looks down to write more notes, his attention is honed into the lack of notes about economics. Rather than the jumble of pointless words from earlier, he sees his own handwriting listing the same name.

Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis, Dennis,

A strong abstract feeling of something important wisps up Nolan’s back and leaves his goosebumps raised as he can’t tear his vision away from the notes. Nolan can’t grasp his memory enough to remember why he wrote anything, just writing on instinct. He quickly tears his eyes away, to look over at his neighbor’s. All the students in the room are bored and leisurely taking notes; a few heads come towards him as Nolan tries to lean forward to desperately read other’s notes, searching for the name Dennis in an old economist or important figure to the lecture. But his page is the only one to contain the name. Feeling a couple pair of eyes, Nolan hunkers over his notes. He flips the page to hid his mad writing and prays for the bell to ring.

The feeling of being watched eases as Nolan runs to his art class and lets himself just paint rather than think. He ends his art class to the final bell and tells himself that this is Beacon Hills. Weird shit always happens, some weird name is stuck in his head from the TV he watched this morning. As Nolan trots out to the parking lot with his backpack, he takes a breath to try and dissipate the last of his nervousness to approach the group of his new friends hanging at Theo’s truck. Theo has started driving him home after school, or to whatever hangout with the others, so he walks up behind Corey and Mason as they listen to Liam and Theo talk.

Liam is slightly leaning against Theo who is wearing his EMT uniform, apparently coming off a day shift. Liam looks a bit sad as Nolan finally catches some of what Theo is saying,

“Yeah, just the older guy. He had some previous medical issues, so he was worse off. It’s already on the news.”

He hears Mason respond with,

“And you’re sure it was Dennis from the candy store?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. The news confirmed it.”

The second the name Dennis is brought into the conversation Nolan feels his breath catch up in his throat, so he shifts into the small circle and inserts himself into the conversation to quickly ask,

“What are we talking about?”

Corey, being the closest to Nolan, turns to him and answers, “Theo’s talking about this deadly accident he was at today during his shift.”

Theo’s already back to his crazy EMT stories from work as Nolan replies under his breath, a quiet “Okay”, left with a sickly leaving of recognition in the bottom of his stomach.

Two days later, Nolan has forcefully removed the name Dennis from his mind. He hadn’t told anyone about the weird name writing, but as he keeps taking notes in classes, he can’t see the fateful feverishly writing as his pages of economics notes put the name is the past. He continues to chalk it up to all the weird stuff that seems to happen in Beacon Hills; he convinces himself it is something supernatural, but if Liam doesn’t want him involved, he’ll stay out of it. Nolan lets the whole thing slide partially off his shoulders by the time he had fallen asleep two days later.

As Nolan feels himself drowsy and sleepy, less anxious from the previous days, he feels himself drift off. A pleasant numbness covers himself and the usual wait of his dog on his legs follow him into sleep.

The weight on his feet keeps him grounded as a dream wraps around him. He opens his eyes to a different room than his own. A faint light comes across the bed Nolan is stood at the foot of. The electric green is cast over the old women, laid back and unmoving besides the slightest raise in her chest. Nolan racks his brain to find who this is, maybe a well-known customer at work or an old substitute at school. He finds himself stepping closer, letting himself look at the women’s old, wrinkled hands barely grasping a cross. Her hair is beyond gray, and she looks sick. A nasal tube and something like an IV are connected to her, and as he lets his eyes drift away from the woman, he sees the heart monitor and other machines filling the room with light. Before he could investigate more, he hears a fragile whisper,

“I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Nolan’s head whips back to watch the elderly woman finish her quiet words; he sees, but doesn’t feel, a hand reach out from himself and grasp the old women in a tender hold. Distracting him the woman takes a fragile weak breath, closing her eyes and relaxes as she admits,

“I’m ready.”

Nolan finds himself wondering, for what, but a loud hum blasts his ears. The constant blare causes his eyes to look directly at the heart monitor; a straight line is all etched into it.

As the machine’s flatline continues, he desperately looks back to see the woman is completely unmoving. She’s stopped breathing. She’s dying. Nolan is paralyzed by the realization and squeezes his eyes closed to steel himself, to try and find it in himself to respond. To react and help.

His eyes open up to his ceiling. The weight of Diego is still on his feet, and the moon light is still illuminating his room. A couple seconds of cataloging his own room, the same as when he went to bed, lets his muscles relax and his breathing slow.

Just a weird dream again, Nolan tries to his side and wills himself to go back to a dreamless sleep.

Ignoring his weird happenings does not stop his dreams, unfortunately. Friday night, Nolan is only focused on his afterschool plans. He clambers into Theo’s truck with Liam, and heads to Liam’s house. Everybody was pumped for an overnight movie marathon, takeout pizza for an army, and getting to see everybody from out of town. He was roped into helping with moving Liam’s living room around to attempt to fit eleven people in sleeping bags. They scrounge up every pillow and blanket from the closets and storage before people start showing up. Eventually, by the time the pizzas arrived, Liam, Theo, Mason, Corey, Alec, Sydney, Hayden, Gwen, Brett, Lori, and himself, are piled in front of the TV with paper plates and soda. The movies were all prepicked out, so Nolan gets as comfy as possible between Sydney and Mason (& Corey since they were pretty much sharing a sleeping bag).

The living room is packed of various duffle bags, unhealthy snacks brought from home, and even a little bit of wolfsbane laced alcohol that Brett smuggled in for himself and the other wolves. Between their movies, they play Truth or Dare, bitch about their teachers, and pass out gossip, like every other high school sleepover. As the hours tick on, people slowly succumb to sleeping, including Nolan.

Nolan’s next waking moment is his eyes flying open to an unfamiliar setting, hot and sweaty from intense proximity to others. Before Nolan can even look around to figure out where the hell he is, Nolan’s breath leaves him with a name on his lips he’s never heard before. As the name “Rosita Dawns” falls out of his mouth, he blindly grasps the sleeping bag wrapped around him to sit upright.

His hands stay balled up with the sleeping bag, constricting him as he is finally starting to breath rather than hyperventilate. By the time his mind starts to clear out the deep fear and he recognizes where he is, Nolan hears movement on the couch near his head. He tilts his head backwards to see the shape of someone sitting upright on the couch, but before he can try and guess if it was Theo or Liam from the couch, he hears Theo’s voice,

“Nolan?”

Nolan response is less of words and more of a guttural agreement from his throat.

Theo whispers back “Who’s Rosita Dawns?”

“I have no idea.”

Theo can probably tell that Nolan is telling the truth from his scent, but that doesn’t stop the truth from confusing the hell out of Nolan.

So, Theo slowly shifts away from Liam, leaving Liam with a pillow in lieu of himself; Theo’s eyes lit a sparkling yellow and with the shimmer of extra light, he sees that Theo is motioning towards the empty kitchen.

Nolan resigns himself to having to talk about it, so he tries to quietly shimmy out of a crinkly sleeping bag without waking others. He slowly tiptoes around everyone else using his phone screen as a temporary flashlight before finally making it to the kitchen, seeing Theo holding out a clear glass of some kind of fruit juice. He meekly takes the glass and takes a silent sip of the grape juice; when he finally looks back up to Theo, he is immediately asked,

“So, what was the dream about?”

“I’m not really sure. Woods?”

“Just woods?”

“I don’t know. It kinda looked like the preserve woods.”

Theo has a moment where he adopts a quick face of sadness, almost pity, as he takes a sip out of his own glass.

“Is this like your Beast nightmares?” Nolan had told him a bit about his other nightmares, in a short and awkward conversation on their drive to his house afterschool.

Nolan shrugs his shoulders, and the conversation falls into silence as they both continue to drink their short glasses of juice. And by the time Nolan is yawning and ready to go back to sleep, Theo puts his glass in the sink, turns to leave the room, puts a firm hand on Nolan’s shoulder with a quick squeeze before heading back to the living room. Nolan continues to sit and stew in the peaceful moment before going back to sleep in the living room.

Nothing else to do with the name “Rosita Dawns” happens over the rest of the weekend, but his weekend of pretending that nothing was happening ended Monday morning. Nolan plops himself down at the island in his kitchen as he is waiting for his dad to finish making their breakfast, eggs and toast. Nolan actually managed to get up a bit early, so he grabs the rolled-up newspaper sitting next to him and starts to skim through looking for anything cool. As he opens the third page and starts skimming, he finds the obituary and reads,

Dennis Alberts passed away at the age of 64, on November 14th…

Gwyneth Lopez passed away at the age of 86…

Rosita Dawns, 27, of Reno, Nevada, died…

Nolan quickly skims through the section and the hair on the back of his neck stands right up; a feeling he’s come to know with hesitancy. As he reads through the second one, Mrs. Lopez, he realizes that his dream was probably her dying; the presence of all the machines and the flatlining noise was her passing away for real. He’d dreamed her death, and it was right. And just Friday, he’d even said the name of the girl, Rosita Dawns. A sickly bout of shame creeps in thinking he was twisted up in these people’s untimely demises.

As his dad sets down his plate of his steaming hot egg sandwich on the table, Nolan desperately tries to fold the newspaper right and shoves the newspaper into his lap, away from prying eyes. He looks down and can’t stomach the idea of eating with the large ball of something twisted in his gut.

He blurts something out to his dad before heading back to his room to try and get through his morning routine. His mind is so scattered that brushing his teeth, combing his hair, and grabbing his homework seems impossible without his eyes drifting back to the slightly crumbled newspaper sitting on the edge of his desk. He can help but ask himself Why did I dream of these dead people?

By the time Theo is rolling up in front of his house, and honking his horn at Nolan’s lateness, Nolan manages to stumble out the door, disheveled and barely put together. He quickly shuffles into the truck and throws himself into the passenger seat, leaving Theo asking,

“What’s up with you this morning?”

Not even attempting to answer, he rips open his backpack and pulls out the crumpled newspaper to hand Theo the obituary. Theo quickly scans the page before slowly looking over to Nolan and saying,

“We’re gonna skip first period. Let’s go find Parrish.”

A couple seconds after sending Parrish a text, Theo starts the drive into Beacon Hills to Derek’s apartment.

The drive to Derek’s apartment is quiet as Nolan starts picking at his nails, trying to patiently wait for whatever is going to happen at Derek’s. When they pull up to the parking lot, Derek is already holding his front door open for Theo and Nolan; although Theo enters much more gracefully than he does.

They are shuffled into Derek’s dining room where Parrish is sipping on some coffee, chilling in his pjs at the table. Everyone sits down with him, and all three older men turn to look at Nolan. Paralyzed by the three intense questioning sets of eyes, Nolan finds himself shrugging rather than talking.

Parrish breaks the silence with “You boys want a cup of coffee before we start?”

Nolan nods and Theo responds with a quick “Yes” so Parrish heads around the table back into the kitchen area. The sounds of a coffee machine ring in Nolan’s ears, but Theo nudges his arm to distract him into looking at Theo.

“Can we see the newspaper?”

Nolan places the obituary on the table for Derek to look at. He also skims through the obituary before asking Nolan,

“And this concerns you because?”

“Um, I’ve been having these dreams. Kinda. They’re not all dreams but they kinda have to do with them.”

Parrish walks back into the room with two mugs of steaming hot coffee, sets them down in front of Nolan and Theo, and asks,

“Do you wanna tell us about them?”

Which has Nolan slowly and awkwardly trying to describe his not-so-descriptive dreams over the past week. Nolan finishes his story, and the room is silent as the three older men all make eye contact with one another, not even looking at Nolan. Finally, Theo asks Parrish,

“Did their deaths affect you in any way?”

“Outside of being a deputy, no.”

More awkward silence as Nolan slowly tries to sink into the floor. Derek finally breaks the silence again

“Well Nolan didn’t predict them. He just knew a bit about them.”

“We should talk to Lydia. She is the one of us with the most experiencing about knowing deaths as they happen.”

The men shake their heads in agreement, and Parrish whips his phone out, presumably to send out a text to Lydia. Derek and Theo head elsewhere in the apartment after they discussed looking in the Bestiary for some clues. Parrish finishes the text and fully turns back to Nolan.

“Thanks for telling Theo, and us, about your dreams. We’ll figure this out.”

“Yeah, thanks.” There’s another moment of silence before Nolan’s stomach starts lightly growling. A smile grows on Parrish’s face as he tries to cover up his stomach.

“You eat breakfast?”

“No, um the paper kinda freaked me out.”

“You want some grilled cheese? I’m pretty good at them.”

“Sure.”

Parrish makes Nolan a little grilled cheese as the other two bring a computer out and start searching for clues on there. But as Nolan is finishing his sandwich and patiently waiting for them to come to an answer, he sees a conclusion is not really made. Everyone agrees that they don’t really know and should wait for Lydia, who had not replied yet due to her being in class. The only good news Nolan gets is that Lydia has plans to return to Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving break the next weekend so he can talk to her face-to-face then. Slightly dejected about the vagueness of results but happy he was not doomed to die, Nolan lets Theo drive him back to school, and pretends everything is fine, patiently waiting for Lydia.

Nolan makes it all the way to Thursday during his study hall, t-minus two days until his meeting with Lydia. But as his teachers give up on homework right before break, he has absolutely nothing to do other than chill at his normal table with Alec and Sydney; everyone mindlessly scrolling or gossiping in whispers. So, he crosses his arms and gets comfy to take a quick cat nap.

Instead of being awoken by his phone alarm, déjà vu hits as he shoots up, pushing the chair back and notebooks around. He frantically looks around the library, barely glancing at Alec and Sydney’s worried looks, before carelessly scrambling for his phone and running into the hallway. He speed-dials Parrish and paces around the hallway with his lungs working overtime until he hears Parrish pick up. The second he hears Parrish’s voice, he starts stuttering out,

“It was an old guy. He’s like ancient super old. I think he fell down. He was- he was hurt. And I think his name is Bert. Or maybe John. Like Bert John…”

His scattered story of his recalled dream is interrupted when Parrish responds, “Bert Johnson.”

Nolan falls silent as Parrish continues, “He was at the elderly home, and fell down in the shower. Nolan, he passed away a couple minutes ago. Sheriff and I were just called in.”

Nolan chokes out a quiet, “He’s dead?” barely understanding what’s happening.

“Yes,” Parrish doesn’t even let Nolan try to respond before reassuring him, “But it already happened. You couldn’t have done anything about it, okay”

“Okay...”

“Thank you for telling me so soon. But I know you are at school. Why don’t you go back to class, and I’ll talk to you later?”

“Alright, bye.”

“Bye.”

Nolan presses the End Call button and stares at his phone wallpaper, still a little unsettled, before he pockets his phone and turns back around to see Alec and Sydney standing at the library doors.

Alec breaks the silence by asking “Who’s Bert Johnson?”

“I don’t know.”

Nolan slowly shuffles back to the doors with them and all three go back into the library.

2:02 Saturday evening, the glass doors of Moe’s diner open as Lydia gracefully floats in. She’s dressed up and elegant for the dingy diner’s afternoon crowd. She immediately sees him all alone, and heads towards him. Nolan raises his hand to quickly wave, and Lydia simply smiles as she slides into the other side of his tattered booth.

Nolan has to restrain himself from shaking; his anxiety skyrocketed the second he had entered the building himself and Lydia either doesn’t notice or doesn’t comment as she says,

“Hi Nolan.”

“Hi Lydia, um thanks for coming and talking with me.”

“I’m the master of crazy dreams. I’d love to help if I can.”

“Well, I’ve been having some crazy dreams.”

“Why don’t you tell me about them as much as you can?”

Again, Nolan launches into his story of all the dreams, including the last one, and tells her everything he could remember. It takes probably ten to fifteen minutes before Nolan runs out of things relating to his dreams and just waits for her response.

“Nolan, in your dream about Mrs. Lopez, did you look around the room?”

“No, um I was just looking at her.”

“Well, there’s a chance she wasn’t talking to you. I asked Parrish, that woman’s daughter was apparently in the room when she passed.”

“But, but what does that mean? Why is this happening to me?”

Lydia takes a moment to take a deep breath and a sip of her water. The momentary pause also allows him to take a couple breaths too.

“Can I ask you a couple, personal questions Nolan? I promise it’ll help.”

“Um sure.”

“Nolan, do you know what I am?”

“A Banshee?”

“Yeah, do you know what Banshees do?”

“Um, scream when someone dies?”

“Sometimes. We are called the Harbinger of Death. My screaming is just one of my abilities. Banshees have been around as long as werewolves, and this is where it might be a bit personal… Nolan, Banshees have always been woman.”

Nolan had already been fidgeting with his fingers, but he couldn’t help but quickly break their eye contact to watch himself fidget with his sweatshirt arm hems. There’s a moment of awkward silence before he watches Lydia’s hands reach out and eventually land over his own, stopping his fidgeting and lightly squeezing his hands.

“Is there any chance you could be a Banshee?”

“…Maybe.” Lydia waits patiently as Nolan has to gnaw on his bottom lip for a second before he builds the confidence to continue. “I, I’m, um I’m a boy. I, like, went through male puberty and everything. But I was born, I’m intersex. I, I um.”

“It’s alright if you don’t wanna go deeper. I believe you. And that means there’s a chance you might be becoming something like me.”

“But, but you’re here. And part of the pack. So why am I doing it too?”

Lydia takes a moment to think before replying,

“Well, a lot of us have been away at school. And I’m pretty far away. I know you’re closer to Liam and the other younger wolves. So maybe it’s happening so you can help Liam.”

“Yeah, maybe. But what does that mean for me? Like am I becoming you?”

Lydia lightly laughs through a breath before cheekily responding,

“No, I am one of a kind. But I might be able to give you some advice; make sure you know you’re not going crazy. You know, stuff I wished I knew.”

“Yeah, that’d be really nice.”

The afternoon fades as patrons come in and out. Nolan and Lydia stay sitting in the booth, eventually ordering some food and drinks, as Lydia imparts as much wisdom as possible. Not that long ago, Lydia was helping Meredith realize their powers are good when they use them for good; and now, in the diner booth, she helps Nolan understand what he is.

#teen wolf #nolan holloway #spooktober #spooktober prompt #banshee! nolan #intersex! nolan #lydia martin #this is be put on ao3 soon #my posts #my writing #my last spooktober prompt

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