Hello and welcome!

Mythology of the story: I mean no offense to anyone who is practicing the Wicca religion. I'm mostly using the information that I can get either from the internet or from the fairy tales and stories from my country. Also, a lot of it will be fictional.

Updates: Slow.

Here is my cast of the characters appearing:

Simone Jones: Portia Doubleday

Mrs. Jones: Rachel McAdams

Mr. Jones: Jon Hamm

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, only my OCs, plot and quite a bit of the fictional stuff that you will read.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Valley Oak

It was dark all around me, the Moon the only lantern high in the sky. Its white light spilled like liquid silver onto the trees and leaves around me, accenting the rough moss-covered bark. I walked on, my bare feet moving quietly on the dark soil. I could feel the Earth between my toes, staying there with each step I took. Where were my shoes? Of all things, I wasn't a particular fan of getting dirty. I would never be caught dead without shoes in this kind of a forest.

That was where I was, wasn't it? A forest. That was strange, too. I lived in a city. Big buildings, lots of flats and cars, with small parks here and there, full of dogs. There were no forests for miles. Yet, here I was, barefoot, in a forest.

With a deep breath I smelled all the scents around me. The rain hadn't fallen in a while, leaving the air clean and fresh, smelling of trees and earth. It was so peaceful here, relaxing. There was nothing to worry about. My mind drifted once more, leaving all rational thought behind and I observed the beautiful, pure, nature around me with a foggy kind of joy. It was like I was drunk, high and exhausted at the same time. My body was moving of its own will, taking me through the beautiful forest. Everything seemed so dreamlike, so unreal. Yet, it was too real. In my heart, I knew that it wasn't imaginary or an illusion. I had learned a long time ago to tell the difference between the two.

My white dress caught on one of the branches, pulling it until it managed to get loose. I hadn't noticed the dress before. It was one of those white vintage ones, the lacy kind that you saw attractive girls wearing in fashion magazines while sitting on the hood of old cars. I didn't own anything like this. I wish I did, but I didn't. It wouldn't look good on me anyways.

A twig snapped to my left and I spun, my groggy body only barely listening to my commands. The beautiful dress swirled around my knees as I squinted at the dark trees, looking for the source of the sound. Slowly, she came into view, one hoof in front of the other. A beautiful doe bent its head down, chewing on the small patch of fresh grass in the shadows. Her ears perked up as she heard my feet slowly pressing into the ground as I tried to steady my dizzy head. Then, she was looking straight at me, her eyes somehow wise, knowing. We shared a brief stare down, as everything in my peripheral vision became blurry except her eyes. Her caramel, wise eyes. Then, she fled.

My feet moved on their own again, taking me away from the ray of light and the patch of grass where the doe was. My body was taking me deeper and deeper into the woods. Into the darkness. The Earth beneath my feet wasn't bothering me that much anymore, but I kept looking at my blue toenails as I stepped onto the dark soil again and again. My hand brushed against the dark red tree bark for support as I went uphill for a while. It was peaceful here. Powerful, old and very peaceful. As if the whole forest was sleeping and willing me to sleep here with it. But, my body had another plan for me that night.

I looked up once more, as my feet finally slowed down. There it was, in the middle of the trees. A large stump, lonely, dark, sitting menacingly in the dark. I wanted to move away, but my feet were frozen. There was something wrong about that stump. It looked old, very old. And if I knew one thing, it was to stay away from old things sitting in the dark that are calling you towards it. I had learned that the hard way when I was younger. There was absolutely no need for repeats.

Then, my feet decided to move again. But, of course, they decided to move towards the menacing remains of a majestic tree, and not away from it. Despite the high that I was still experiencing and the dreamlike state in my head, my heart sped up. I could feel my throat closing in on itself as I began panicking. The closer I got to the tree, the more scared I was. I didn't know why, but I was positively terrified.

And then, there was a flash of light and finally I had control over my own feet to stumble back. The high was over, leaving my body heavy and feeling very human. I stood still, staring at the light coming from the old stump. I squinted, finally making out the shape inside it. An old lantern was there, made of dark metal, curving in a beautiful way around a dancing ball of light that never stopped flickering with immense power. I could feel the surge of the pure energy hit me as soon as it lit up, and it didn't falter, but just kept seeping into my skin, making me feel strong.

It was a Beacon. And I had to answer its call.

The Jones house stood innocently on the west side of the periphery of a city called Denver, in Colorado, USA. It was a fairly ordinary house for an unassuming passer-by. It had a nice, taken care of, front yard and a regular mailbox which said Jones in pretty, cursive black letters. The house had two stories and completely ordinary windows and door. It was painted a pale yellow, just like all the other houses on the block and its roof was a completely normal orange color, a little paled by the harsh Colorado sun.

However, the Jones family was anything but ordinary. The family had three members, all currently living in the Jones house. There was Mrs. Jones, a tall, fair woman, with a mass of auburn hair that was always styled perfectly. She wore those flowing dresses with pictures of flowers on them that trailed behind her while she worked in the garden or fetched the mail, and they seemingly never got dirty. She was also often seen with wide-brimmed straw hats, smiling at her neighbors as she went to do her grocery shopping by car.

Mr. Jones on the other hand was a man who always had a joke at the ready, with a smile on his face, like his wife. He was tall, but not too built around the shoulders. He was slim and carried a dress shirt very well, much to the neighborhood women's delight. He was dark haired and light eyed, which was quite surprising with his slight tan. Mr. Jones worked a white collar job as a lawyer and was gone during most of the day, sometimes, he even went away for weeks or months on different business trips, leaving the house without his sleek black Mitsubishi in the driveway.

The last, but not the least, member of the Jones family was a teenage girl. She was pale, skinny and had light wavy hair that fell all the way down to her hips. She wore overalls and large sweaters, uncaring of her appearance. She was definitely the quietest of the Jones family, but, like her parents, always with a smile on her face and a light twinkle in her icy blue eyes.

All in all, when you put the three of them together, you wouldn't think the young Mrs. Jones to be the wife of a successful businessman such as Mr. Jones. Nor would you assume that the pale, awkward teenager was their child, as they were all completely different people. Yet, they were a family. A family as happy as one could get in the city called Denver, Colorado in the USA.

However, this wasn't just any family. No, despite their seemingly ordinary lives and jobs, they were much more special. After all, Mrs. Jones and her mother before her, and then her mother before her and all that way to Salem and beyond were what one would call these days a witch. They, of course, preferred a different name, Crafters or The People. The Wicca Community. Different things, different names, but all for the same thing.

Our story, though, doesn't revolve around Mrs. Jones and her struggle with the magic within her. No, she had had her adventures and was living through her happy ending with her beloved and their child. Our story is about the pale, awkward, meek teenage girl that sat up in her bed, gasping at the peak of dawn. Again.

The girl lay still for a moment, her eyes glued on the baby blue ceiling of her room. She calmed down her breathing, reveling in the way her body was fully responsive to her commands despite the usual grogginess that came from sleep. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. One glace at her bedroom window told her that she was awake before dawn, again. She turned around, her back to the slowly brightening skies and closed her eyes, trying to go to sleep again.

Five minutes later, she tossed her covers off in frustration and got out of her bed. There was no use. It would be another early morning for her. The teenager walked to her dresser, taking her towel and a simple yellow sundress from inside, along with a change of underwear. Slowly, she crept into the hallway, leaving her room and tiptoeing to the bathroom.

She lit the first light when she entered the tiled room, enjoying the way the cold tiles felt on her bare feet. She glanced down looking at her green toenails. Wriggling her toes, she gave a small smile before turning on the showerhead and stripping to get into the tub. The bath was quick, as the girl had tied her hair into a bun on top of her head.

Soon, she stepped back out, spilling water onto the cold tiles and then wrapped herself into the fluffy towel that she had brought along. She brushed her teeth while looking at her reflection in the mirror and then rinsed them out. Something caught her attention just as she was about to turn around and get dressed.

A single green leaf sat in the messy bun of bed hair that she had put up in a rush. With wide eyes, the teen pulled it loose, studying it closely. It was a small leaf, no bigger than her palm. However, it was very distinctive. Its edges were lobed, along with small waves all around the green 'fingers'. Under her, moist from the shower, fingertips, she could feel the fuzzy upper side of the leaf. The teen hummed in thought. She placed the leaf on the sink as she dressed at a leisurely pace.

The bathroom window cleared from the condensation as she let down her hair, running through it with her mother's wide-toothed comb. It fell in soft waves around her face and down her shoulders and the teen gave her reflection a soft smile. Despite the lack of sleep in the last couple of days, she looked pretty decent. Well, not eye-catching pretty or anything. But, decent. And, this was without a drop of make-up on her face.

Her grandmother was the one who influenced her no-make-up policy. She always reminded the young adult of how many chemicals there are in today's cosmetics and how the original ones were made from Nature itself. She had even made lip-balm for her granddaughter in the end. It was a beautiful tone of pink, making her lips look fuller and giving her face a younger, more innocent look. It also smelled of roses, which was always a bonus.

The teen picked up her discarded towel, PJs and opened the door to the short hallway that lead to her room. On second thought, she stopped, reaching back for the strange leaf on the sink and taking it with her as well.

By then, the sun had peaked over the horizon slowly, its first rays hitting the windows of the modest house that the girl lived in. There was no need to turn the lights on as she arrived back into her room and tidied up her bed. She quickly scribbled the outline of her dreamwalking into her diary and then placed it back under her pillow. With a smile, she headed downstairs to the kitchen to make coffee and tea.

Their home was a simple one. A classic modern American house. It had two floors and a basement, leaving little to imagination. While there were three bedrooms on the top floor, along with one bathroom, there was a kitchen and a cozy living room downstairs. With a small smile, the young adult poured the water into the heater on the counter, making the water ready for the hot beverages that the family preferred.

Soon, there were three cups on the counter. One was wide and short with roses all around the rim. It was filled with chamomile tea to the brim, without any sugar. That one was hers. The taller cup was smaller in size and mass of liquid held and it was a host to her mother's morning preference: good old Earl Gray with a hint of milk and a spoon of sugar. Her father was a whole different story. His cup was the medium one, and it wasn't even a normal porcelain cup. It was a travel mug, full of dark coffee, complete with a lot of sugar.

With a small sigh, the girl took a book from the shelf, a big, old, plant encyclopedia and started looking through it for the leaf that lay next to her cup. As the sun shone brighter and brighter, she flipped through the pages, reading off the Latin names of the green trees and their properties. It must have been at least an hour or two before the teen heard light footsteps from the stairs. Her mother was up.

"Blessed be." The woman's voice was almost a whisper, gentle and soothing. Her daughter rolled her eyes at the religious greeting and gave her a small smile.

"Morning, mum. Tea's on the counter." She said in her normal voice, not worried about waking up her father. He was probably up, too.

"Mmmm." The woman inhaled some of the smell from her cup fondly. "Earl Gray." She commented with a small quirk of her lips. Finally, the teen girl looked up at her mother while fiddling with the current page in her book.

"Just how you like it." The girl remarked.

"Your father and I really have created perfection." The middle aged woman joked, sitting next to her daughter on the bar stool and leaning across the counter to see the book. "I don't know how I survived without you all these years."

"I'm sure you managed." The teenager giggled and flipped through the book again. There was silence as her mother drank her tea and slowly woke up.

During the summer vacation this was a rather ordinary way for the Jones family to wake up. The daughter first, then the mother and lastly the father. Contrary to the stereotype that most teenagers were lazy, this girl enjoyed being helpful. It made her feel good and complete to be up before her parents, prepare them a beverage of their preference and tidy up a bit if necessary.

"If you are looking for this leaf, you are searching through the wrong book." Her mother piped up suddenly, causing the teen to sigh, closing her encyclopedia.

"Do you know what it is?" That was a stupid question. Of course her mother knew. She was one of the best, after all. She shouldn't've searched, but merely gone to her mother instead.

"Quercus lobata." The woman spoke in Latin, smiling at her frowning daughter. "It is a type of oak that grows only in California." She twirled the leaf in between her thumb and index finger. "Where did you get it?" There was a moment of silence before the woman sighed. "We've talked about this, Simone. You are to tell me whenever you dreamwalk." It was as if the air between them caught fire. It was time for the first fight of the day, and only Gaia knew that it wouldn't be their last.

Great. The teen thought. This was just what she needed. Another fight with her overprotective mother. "I didn't. At least not for a couple of days until now. I tell you each time."

Her mother stood up, placing her empty cup in the sink. "Dreamwalking is dangerous. You shouldn't be doing it. You aren't trained in these things yet, Simone."

And there she goes, the teen almost sighed. I would be if you would just let me learn. She forced her anger down. There was no use. Her mother wouldn't train her. No magic, that was her mother's rule. It's not like she wanted to dream of forests. She wanted a good night's sleep, just as much as the next teenager.

"Of course, mother." She meekly responded into her cup, drinking it.

"You don't understand the severity of the dreamwalking!" Her mother kept going on. "As I thought, I should've bound you into our Coven. They would be able to control your power, unlike me."

"No!" The teen finally raised her voice, causing the book in front of her to slam onto the table on its own. "I don't want to be in a Coven!"

"No magic in the house!" Her mother yelled back. The teen didn't retaliate. Instead, she fumed on the inside. It wasn't like she wanted her magic to be out of control.

"You girls are at it again? Hell hath no fury like a witch scorned." Her father had joined the party in the living room, already in a suit and with a briefcase. "Come on, give me a hug, both of you. Calm the storm clouds and the fires of Hell until I leave."

And just like that, their argument was over. The two women of the house gave the man a hug each and he grabbed his coffee and ran out the door. As soon as the car engine sounded, the two dispersed from the living room. The teen headed back upstairs, while her mother went towards the garden, both fuming.

It was another usual morning in the Jones family household.

The girl lay on her bed in frustration until it cooled down. She had learned when she was younger that she had a bit of a temper, and that getting angry was never a good solution. Windows tended to break when she yelled. Any nearby liquid would boil. Sometimes there would be a sudden gust of wind or even a lighting crack. Mostly, this was completely unintentional.

The teen disliked violence. She preferred finding common ground or backing away. There were only a couple of people that could test the worst of her temper, and one of them was her mother. They loved each other, yes, but they had very different views.

While her mother was a confident woman who sought control and rules, the young teenager loved enjoying the chaos all around her and simply faded into the background to watch it better. The worst of their arguments came from two topics: magic and self-esteem.

As many girls in high school are, this teen was no exception to low self-esteem. She had always been a bit on the quiet side, but never this much. It completely destroyed her mother to see her only daughter become this meek wallflower, while she had been a queen bee herself. After all, they could have pretty much anything that they wanted at the simple snap of their fingers.

As for magic, that was another topic entirely. They didn't talk about it as often as they talked about the teen's dwindling confidence and increasing silence. It was mostly a taboo topic in the house. It was enough for Simone to mention anything about it, or even sometimes to think about it, for her mother to blow her fuse.

Catherine Jones, the mother of the family, as we said before, loved rules. Hence, she was all too much into Covens and group practicing. This was a more common way of crafting in the modern days, more commonly known as the Wiccan Community. Her daughter however, Simone Jones, was an old soul. She had listened to her grandmother talk about the Traditional ways of the Crafters so long that she never wanted to join a Coven. She didn't want to bind herself to others, even though it would help with her control of the craft. So, arguments often erupted once the teen used her craft openly, or by accident, due to her inexperience.

Simone gave a sigh and pushed herself off her bed. The rage that she had felt during the fight had ebbed away, now only leaving a dull pulse in the back of her head. She knew that that was merely an echo coming from her craft after her outburst. She was calm already.

The girl headed to her desk, glancing down at the oak leaf. Regardless of her mother's controlling ways, she was a resourceful woman who knew her craft. And Simone was no fool. If she was having dreams, especially the dreamwalking kind, she was being given a sign. And who was she to ignore the magic when it called?

The teen grabbed her phone and jumped on her window still. It was a tight fit, and for the thousandth time she wished that her mother would allow her to transform the darn thing so that she could properly sit. But, the 'no magic' rule was still in place. With a tired sigh of annoyance and a fleeting glance out the glass, the young girl dialed the familiar combination of numbers. There was always that one person that she could talk to about her magic.

It rang once, twice and then three times. She found her mother in the garden with her eyes, as the woman angrily worked on the new batch of roses. Then, finally, someone picked up on the other side of the phone.

"How much trouble are you in this time?" Her grandmother's raspy voice skipped the greeting, making her smile. Her grandmother had gotten a phone simply because of Simone. She knew that only the teenager would call her on the line and she mostly skipped through the formalities. Not to mention her level of intuition was quite high, and the old woman could often guess the topic that her favorite granddaughter would bring.

"Not much, for now." Simone replied. She could never understand how her mother and her mother could be so different. It was like the two women weren't even related.

"Are you still dreamwalking?" Her grandmother was always clued in to her life. She was one of those rare people that didn't judge you and waited to hear the whole story. The teen knew, she could always tell her nana. And mostly, like this time, she didn't even need to say anything.

"It happened again last night. I didn't tell mum about the last couple of times. If she knew, she would blow." The teen explained in a hurry, her voice a bit stronger than usual. She fixed her mother with her eyes as the woman in question shoveled dirt.

Her grandmother gave a small sigh. "I understand, Simone." The old woman rasped, and it sounded like she was walking about and making something from the clanking in the background. "Catherine is a difficult woman, but she isn't ill-willed, I assure you. Now, have you taken the potion that I told you to?"

"Yes." The teen replied diligently. She had cooked up the draught in a pot on the stove a few days ago while her mother had been at the library for her 'book club'. "I'm almost out of it."

"Good. You make some more, it should help. It is for slowing down the dreams and making you remember them in the morning. Did you have any more movement inside the dreamwalk this time?"

Simone nodded absentmindedly twirling a lock of her long hair. "Yes. The potion worked. This time I could see everything. There was a forest, and then a doe and then the same tree stump that turns into a beacon. It was much clearer in the morning than the last couple times."

"Perfect." Her grandmother agreed. "Did anything happen differently this time?"

"I brought a leaf from the forest with me to reality." The teen confirmed, twirling the item in between the fingers of her free hand. "It's valley oak, endemic to Cali."

"And now you have your destination." Her grandmother told her.

The teen snorted. "That isn't what I'm worried about."

Her grandmother laughed airily. "It isn't wise to ignore a call, especially the one as strong as this one has been. What will you do Simone?"

"It seems that I will have some convincing to do." She begrudgingly murmured, ignoring her grandmother's laughter. She was still watching her mother in the garden. The woman was now preparing to water the plants. With a swift jerk of her slim hand, the teen made the hose in the garden sprout water, causing her mother to scream and start cussing.

"Good luck." Her grandmother hung up, and the teen didn't doubt even for one second that the old bat was smirking devilishly.

"It's your daughter that I'll be convincing, so help me Goddess." The pale teen got up and left the leaf on her desk. It was time to start begging.

Hope you enjoyed! I'm looking forward to some reviews!