The trip from Beverly Hills to Beacon Hills was like a journey into a realm Leo knew well but Damien was only just starting to understand. The sun-scorched freeways of Southern California slowly gave way to the more mountainous, wooded terrain of the north. As the miles flew past, Damien's thoughts tumbled over each other, combining the disparate pieces of information he had. Peter Hale was on the move, taking victims with him. Lydia and Allison sensed something of what was going on. And a mysterious message had driven him to the center.
He attempted to track the mysterious number that had texted him, but it was a burner, something that couldn't be traced. The person obviously wanted him to arrive, yet their intention was still unknown. Was it a friend? An operator? Someone who was aware of his Lycan birth? The options churned within his head, each one more disconcerting than the previous.
As he entered the state, a very noticeable change seemed to take place in the air. The air became thicker, bearing a faint, metallic tang that danced across his developing Lycan senses. The trees lining the road appeared darker, more primeval, and full of hidden knowledge behind their dense leaves. It was as if the landscape itself was charged with an underlying supernatural power.
He pulled into a gas station in a tiny, remote town, the type where everyone appears to know everybody else's business. The locals stared at his pricey car with a combination of interest and suspicion. He overheard fragments of excited chatter, whispers about bizarre animal attacks and unexplained howls emanating from the preserve just outside of town. Their terror was palpable, a complete contrast to the sun-kissed apathy with which he used to be greeted in Los Angeles.
Back on the road, the sky darkened into twilight, casting long, sinister shadows over the twisting country roads that wound towards Beacon Hills. The sense of tension grew, a visceral warning screaming at him to beware. He could feel other presences in the woods around him now, the sounds of them barely audible on the periphery of his hearing, the minute changes in the air pressure that spoke of movement just out of his line of vision.
He only arrived on the outskirts of Beacon Hills as night fully fell. The town itself was unremarkable enough from initial observation – a normal small American town with a charming Main Street and familiar fast-food outlets. But beneath the normalcy facade, Damien sensed a tangible tension, a sense of something lurking just out of sight beneath the surface.
And following the overall path suggested by the text message, he was walking toward the Beacon Hills Preserve. The entrance was indicated by a decaying sign, the paint flaked, as though even the town itself was exhausted of the things it kept within its limits. As he drove along the curved road into the preserve, the trees shut in behind him, their bony fingers reaching out across the narrow road. The air chilled, the quiet broken only by the sound of leaves and a faraway owl's hoot.
And then, he listened. A raw, animal howl that was unmistakably different from the despairing cry he'd heard on Beverly Hills. This howl was one of fury, of suffering, of primal ownership. It was the cry of a creature under duress, a creature asserting dominance.
Leo's memories overwhelmed Damien – the initial episodes of *Teen Wolf*, Scott's early battles with his transformation, the naked, untamed strength of the newly bitten werewolf. This was Scott. This was happening to him now.
He pushed down on the accelerator, the Aston Martin's engine thundering through the silent forest. He needed to find him. He didn't know why, but a strong instinct, a combination of Leo's automatic protectiveness of the *Teen Wolf* characters and Damien's own nascent sense of purpose, propelled him forward.
He took a hairpin turn and saw it – a mad chaos lit up by the headlights. A creature, half-wolf, half-man, snarling and raging on the ground cover, its eyes aflame with a sickly yellow glow. And looming over it, a taller, more substantial figure with raging red eyes, exuding an atmosphere of sadistic dominance. Peter Hale.
A surge of protective rage swept over Damien. This was no longer a TV show scene. This was life. And the sheer energy radiating from Peter, the desperate fight of the younger werewolf… it struck something primal in Damien's Lycan heart.
Unthinkingly, he hit the brakes, the Aston Martin squealing to a stop. He yanked the door open and leapt out into the chill night air, all his senses screaming, the ancient response to defend the younger wolf kicking in.
Peter Hale turned his seething red stare upon the sudden arrival, a growl vibrating deep within his chest. Scott, his body beset with agony as he underwent his painful change, emitted a strangled scream.
Damien held his ground, the air charged with a budding power. He didn't yet grasp the strength that was awakening in him, the ancient heritage in his blood. But in that instant, looking on at the raw unfairness of the view before him, one thing stood: he wouldn't sit back and let it happen. The fan had become a guardian. And the game, as he finally knew now, was just starting.