Leon woke up to the blaring screech of an unfamiliar alarm.
“Where am I?”
He bolted upright, staring at a smooth, pristine ceiling painted in clean eggshell white.
He reached over and slammed the alarm shut, and a heavy silence settled over the place.
Everything about his surroudings was wrong.
“Did I drink too much last night and break into someone’s house?” he muttered, swinging his legs out of bed.
He walked over to a framed photo hanging on the wall.
The picture showed a smiling teenager standing between two older adults — presumably his parents.
Panic flared in his chest.
He scanned the foreign space once more, and through the lingering fog of his groggy mind, he registered a figure standing across the room.
The guy had the exact same face as the teenager in the picture.
“Hey, man,” Leon said, raising a hand in a desperate bid to seem friendly.
The stranger raised his hand and waved back in perfect, eerie synchronization.
Leon scratched the back of his head.
The figure scratched his head, too.
“Hold on a minute!”
Leon lunged forward.
The figure lunged right back.
He stopped dead in his tracks, standing inches away from a flawless sheet of glass.
It was a floor-to-ceiling mirror.
The face looking back at him needed no introduction — sixteen or seventeen years old, ocean-blue eyes, gold blond hair, and a jawline that would’ve gotten him out of a speeding ticket in any state.
Before he could scream, a massive wave of foreign memories rammed into his brain like a physical blow.
This is Leon Lockhart.
Sixteen years old.
High school student.
His parents, Lara and Finn, had recently dragged him from Los Angeles to this small town.
The memories were hazy on the exact reasons — all he knew was that they had packed up and left in a hurry, as if they were running from something.
“Did I fucking die and wake up as someone with the same name?” Leon asked the empty room, inspecting his new reflection.
For the next ten minutes, Leon sat on the edge of the bed, methodically organizing the rush of new memories.
He cataloged the old Leon’s habits, his personality, and his parents’ strange schedules.
They left him alone a lot.
Lately, they would disappear for days at a time — sometimes an entire week.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“Well, at least the parents are well-off.
I can live with that.”
The house was a large, beautifully designed two-story home in West Hills, an affluent residential district bordering the dense tree line of the Beacon Hills Preserve.
Wealthy, but grounded — not a ridiculous Los Angeles glass mansion, but a very comfortable, upper-class Beacon Hills estate.
Then a specific memory locked into place, making his eyes widen.
Today was Sunday.
School started tomorrow at Beacon Hills High.
“This town is…
Beacon Hills.”
The thought hit him like a sucker punch.
A TV show from his previous life.
Teen Wolf.
“No way, right?
It’s just a coincidence.”
As Leon tried to shake the absurd thought out of his head, a sharp voice called out from downstairs.
“Honey, are you ready yet?
Breakfast is getting cold!”
“Coming…
Mom!” he yelled back, the word feeling deeply bizarre on his tongue.
He hurried into the bathroom, washed up, and headed downstairs.
When he reached the dining room, a massive feast was waiting on the table.
His new mom, Lara — a pretty but tough-looking woman with her dark blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail — was already dressed in a sharp jogging outfit.
Leon sat down, his mind still half-processing the reality of his situation, and reached straight for a slice of blueberry pie.
Lara’s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him.
The old Leon had absolutely hated blueberry pie.
She stared at him for a second longer, then dismissed it with a shake of her head.
‘Teenagers.’
Leon didn’t notice.
As a total foodie, he tore through the breakfast — mini-sandwiches, omelettes, waffles, all of it.
He was halfway through his second waffle when it hit him.
The table was loaded.
Pancakes, eggs, fresh fruit, three different kinds of bread, a pitcher of orange juice, a pot of coffee — enough food to feed a small army, and all of it for one teenager.
He’d seen this exact scene a hundred times in movies and shows.
The kid always shows up, grabs a single piece of toast, says “not hungry,” and leaves.
Meanwhile, the parent who cooked it all just stands there, heartbroken.
He grabbed another waffle.
No way he was letting that stereotype live in his house.
***********
By Sunday afternoon, sitting around the house was driving him insane.
If this was truly the Teen Wolf universe, he couldn’t afford to waste a single second.
He grabbed a jacket, slipped out of the house, and spent the next few hours exploring the town on foot to confirm his memories.
He walked past the local animal clinic and, through the window, caught a brief glimpse of Alan Deaton organizing medical supplies on a shelf.
A chill ran down his spine.
It was real.
Later, he pulled out his phone and opened a map application.
As he started studying the area — every spot and location where all the major plot events occurred — he remembered everything with freakish clarity, whether due to the transmigration or something else, he didn’t know.
He remembered every episode he had watched.
Except one.
The last season.
“I shouldn’t have dropped the show.
What happened at the end?” It bothered him, but that was way in the future.
No reason to worry for now.
“That’s future Leon’s issue to worry about!”
As Leon was searching and looking up some things, he opened a map of the entire United States.
“Just in case I want to escape in the future, I need to have an idea where to run if things go too far—somewhere completely out of state.”
He dragged his cursor across the digital map, filtering for towns with weird histories.
Suddenly, he froze.
“What the fuck?”
On the opposite side of the country, he noticed a suspiciously familiar name.
Mystic Falls.
“Don’t tell me those pedophiles exist in this world too!!” His breath hitched.
The screen fully loaded the details.
A town in Virginia, thousands of miles away from California, but very real.
The Vampire Diaries was a show he watched way back, but he dropped it around season 4 due to garbage writing and hypocritical, annoying characters.
‘Plus those two brothers were over 160 years old but still went after a 17-year-old girl…’
He zoomed into that town and noticed the familiar locations he remembered from the show — the Salvatore house, Mystic Falls High.
After a quick search, he learned that the current sheriff was named Elizabeth Forbes, with a picture he recognized.
Aren’t werewolves in the TVD show different from the werewolves in Teen Wolf?
Werewolves are related to bloodlines in that world, born into it, while here they can be turned.
How does this change the plot in both shows?
If vampires are real, would they be stronger or weaker than werewolves here?
Where would I be able to find a vampire if I wanted to be turned?
Are the originals real?
The sheer realization that the world’s danger level was astronomically higher than a simple werewolf show made his blood run cold.
He needed power, and he needed it fast.
***********
The next morning, the drive to his first day of school was entirely too fast.
His mom drove her expensive SUV like a stunt driver.
“Alright, hun,” she said, pulling up to the curb of Beacon Hills High.
“The principal knows you’re transferring in today.
I’m going to meet up with your dad in the next town over, so we might be back late tonight.
Your car should be delivered later today — look for it in the school parking lot.
Love you!”
As Leon unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to open the passenger door, his mom leaned over to adjust the rearview mirror.
The motion caused her track jacket to ride up slightly along her waist.
Leon froze.
Tucked securely into a custom, low-profile tactical holster against her hip was the unmistakable, matte-black silhouette of a semi-automatic handgun.
He didn’t say a word.
He forced his face to remain completely neutral, gave her a quick wave, and stepped out of the car.
A gun.
To a simple real estate meeting in the next town.
An ominous realization began to bloom in his mind, but he quickly buried it.
Maybe it’s just for protection.
A few minutes later, he was being introduced to his first period class.
“Class, this is our new student, Leon Lockhart.
Do your best to make him feel welcome.” The vice principal — a surprisingly young Black man drowning in a suit a size too large — gave a brief nod and promptly walked out.
“Alright everyone, stop staring,” the biology teacher barked, then looked at Leon.
“My name is Mr.
Harris.
There are a few empty seats.
Pick one and sit down.”
Leon walked down the aisle.
He immediately recognized a familiar face and took the empty seat directly behind him: Scott McCall.
Leon gave him a polite nod, and Scott offered a quiet, friendly nod in return.
Taking a quick scan of the classroom, Leon’s suspicions were instantly confirmed.
The main cast was all here.
They didn’t look exactly like the Hollywood actors from the show, but their style, their clothing, and their general vibes made them instantly recognizable.
His eyes drifted toward the window, catching Lydia Martin watching him through the glass reflection.
When their eyes locked, she calmly turned back around without a single trace of emotion.
Leon smiled faintly, turning his gaze toward the other side of the room.
Stiles Stilinski was staring open-mouthed.
“He’s beautiful,” Stiles muttered under his breath.
Because of the quiet room, both Leon and Scott caught it perfectly.
Holding back a sudden burst of laughter, Leon pretended to focus on the chalkboard while his mind raced.
I need to get the bite.
Vampires are obviously a lot harder to find, but he knew a way to become a werewolf easily.
Although he didn’t know exactly what night Scott and Stiles would head out to the preserve to search for the body, he had to be there.
He needed to get bitten right alongside Scott.
He pulled out a notebook and carefully began writing down everything he could remember about the lore of both the Teen Wolf and the TVD worlds, substituting names with random letters just in case someone snooped, with a separate section titled “What changed?”
When the final bell rang, the classroom erupted into noise.
Before Leon could even slide his notebook into his bag, a crowd of girls completely swarmed his desk, throwing questions at him.
A wave of irritation rolled through him.
His brain was on a strict timeline, and he didn’t have the patience for small talk.
“Leon, a teacher is looking for you.”
The voice cut through the giggling crowd — commanding and sharp.
Before he could see who it was, a firm hand wrapped around his wrist and forcefully yanked him out of the cluster of girls.
Lydia Martin.
She didn’t let go until they were halfway down the hallway, releasing his wrist as if she’d just touched something mildly unsanitary.
She turned to face him, tilting her head slightly.
“I just saved you from a very annoying five minutes,” she said smoothly.
“You’re welcome.”
“Can you keep saving me and get me out of here?” Leon said with a sigh.
Damn vampires, witches, druids, werewolves, every other creature that appears later, and the horrible shit that comes with them.
Lydia’s eyes narrowed a fraction, studying him like a puzzle.
“Already?
Beacon Hills isn’t that bad.”
“Sure.”
Something shifted behind her eyes — the faint promise of a smile.
“Good luck with that,” she said, turning on her heel and walking away.
Leon watched her go, remembering how brilliant she actually was behind the “popular girl” act.
Further down the hall, Stiles leaned heavily against his locker.
“Damn it, Scott, did you see that?
He’s already moving in on Lydia.”
“Don’t overthink it, man,” Scott said.
When the final bell of the day rang, Leon headed straight for the student parking lot.
His phone buzzed with a text confirming his car had been delivered.
He followed the coordinates and stopped dead in his tracks.
A pristine, dark blue Ford Mustang was waiting for him.
He retrieved the keys from the glove compartment and fired up the V8 engine.
As he backed out of the space, he noticed a figure standing two rows over, leaning against a candy-apple-red Porsche 911.
Jackson Whittemore.
His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes locked onto the Mustang.
Leon just smiled, catching Jackson’s gaze in his rearview mirror, and drove out of the lot.
***********
The drive home was quiet.
Leon crashed onto the living room couch and dozed off.
When he woke, the light filtering through the windows had turned a deep, fiery orange.
He checked his phone: 6:48 PM.
It was time.
He threw on a dark hoodie, grabbed his keys, and headed out.
Ten minutes later, he parked the Mustang deep in the brush of a secluded turnout near the Beacon Hills Preserve.
He walked past the chained entrance, found a thick, rotted tree stump hidden well within the dense foliage, and sat down to wait.
The sun dipped entirely below the horizon.
The temperature plummeted.
At 9:03 PM, a pair of bright high beams cut through the fog.
A 1980 Jeep CJ-5 pulled up right in front of the chained gate, its engine sputtering to a halt.
“We’re seriously doing this?” Scott’s voice drifted through the trees.
“You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town, Scott!” Stiles shot back.
Hearing the classic, sarcastic gear-grinding between the two lifelong friends filled Leon with a sudden surge of relief.
First day, first try.
I got incredibly lucky.
Leon straightened his clothes and stepped out of the thick brush, deliberately intercepting them right at the gate.
“Hey, guys.
What are you doing out here?”
The bright beam of Stiles’s flashlight swung toward him instantly, blinding him.
Scott stumbled back over a root, while Stiles dropped into a frantic, defensive half-crouch.
“Whoa, whoa, whoo!
Holy crap, man!
Stay back!” Stiles yelped, clutching his chest.
“It’s Leon,” Scott muttered, squinting through the glare.
“From Harris’s class.
The new kid.”
Stiles lowered the flashlight slightly, his eyes still wild with frantic energy.
“Leon?” Stiles looked at him with a suspicious squint.
“First day in Beacon Hills and you’re already lurking in a pitch-black forest?
Is this an LA thing?
Because around here, we usually just go to the movies.”
“I heard there was a missing body,” Leon lied smoothly.
“Caught it on a police scanner stream online.
Figured I’d come take a look.”
Stiles’s jaw practically dropped.
He spun toward Scott, his eyes shining with sudden, unhinged excitement.
“Did you hear that, Scott?
A fellow intellectual!
A man of culture!
He streams police scanners!” Stiles spun back to Leon, pointing a dramatic finger at the trail ahead.
“Well, welcome to the hunt, Leon.
We were just about to head in.
Follow the flashlight.”
They trekked deeper into the woods.
Stiles was rambling nonstop about the severed half of the body while Scott trailed heavily behind them, wheezing into his inhaler.
Stiles kept looking back at Leon, whispering to Scott in a completely undisguised “secret” voice: “I’m telling you, Scott, he either was driven by curiosity and a desire for adventure, or he’s the actual killer returning to the scene of the crime.
Either way, it’s exciting!”
They walked for another ten minutes until the entire atmosphere of the forest shifted.
The constant hum of nocturnal insects cut out entirely, leaving the woods in a suffocating, held-breath silence.
Without warning, Stiles dropped into the dirt, forcefully yanking Scott down with him.
Leon immediately reacted, dropping low behind a massive fallen log.
In the distance, the sharp beams of professional flashlights cut through the trees, accompanied by the echo of barking bloodhounds.
The deputies.
“Wait, come on!” Stiles scrambled back to his feet, sprinting directly toward the lights.
“Stiles!
Wait up!” Scott called out.
They burst into a small clearing just as a massive German Shepherd lunged forward, barking furiously.
Stiles shrieked, tumbling backward into the dirt in pure terror.
“Hold it right there!” a loud voice boomed.
Sheriff Noah Stilinski stepped into the light, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
“Hang on, hang on.
This little delinquent belongs to me.”
The Sheriff scanned the immediate tree line.
“Now, where is your usual partner in crime?”
“Sc-Scott is at home,” Stiles lied terribly, his voice shaking.
“It’s just me.
In the woods.
Completely alone.”
The Sheriff shook his head and forcefully escorted his son back toward the Jeep, leaving the clearing dark once more.
Once the heavy footsteps faded, Scott slowly crept out from behind the tree line.
He signaled toward the deeper, darker sections of the preserve to bypass the remaining deputies.
Here we go, Leon thought, his adrenaline spiking as he followed close behind.
They walked through the dense fog for a few minutes until a massive herd of deer erupted from the darkness, stampeding directly through the clearing.
The sheer noise and motion sent Scott crashing to the ground in terror, his inhaler skidding out of reach across the leaves.
Scott immediately pulled out his phone, lighting up the screen to search the damp ground.
Leon looked down at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Scott, you know your phone has an actual flashlight toggle, right?
Using just the screen glow is incredibly stupid.”
“Oh.
Right,” Scott muttered sheepishly, quickly tapping the flashlight icon.
The bright beam swept back and forth across the damp leaves, then froze.
Every muscle in Scott’s body went rigid.
Stumbling backward in pure horror, Scott lost his footing and went tumbling down a steep ravine, crashing through branches and rocks before hitting the bottom.
“L-Leon!” Scott gasped out, dragging himself to his feet at the bottom of the hill.
Leon calmly jogged down the slope to meet him.
That was when the world changed.
A sudden, deep rumble vibrated through the earth.
The air itself felt hostile, as if it had suddenly grown teeth.
The two boys spun toward the thickest part of the fog.
Standing less than twenty yards away was a creature that defied the laws of nature.
It wasn’t just a large wolf — it was a literal giant, standing a terrifying ten feet tall.
Its frame was a mountain of corrupted, dense muscle and pitch-black fur that actively swallowed the faint moonlight.
Two glowing eyes the color of burning brake lights stared through the mist, unblinking.
It moved.
There was no warning.
One second it was twenty yards out, the next, a wall of pure muscle and the stench of rot hit Leon like a freight train.
Claws the size of Bowie knives dug deep into his torso, ripping through his hoodie and slamming him spine-first into an oak tree.
The impact knocked every ounce of air from his lungs, his vision fracturing into white spots.
Before he could even process the agony, Scott hit the exact same trunk, slumping into the dirt, half-conscious.
The Alpha turned its terrifying gaze toward Scott, its jaws unhinging to reveal rows of jagged, interlocking teeth.
It clamped down hard onto Scott’s side, eliciting a shriek of pure, unadulterated agony.
If I pretend to save Scott now, later he trusts me completely.
Leon knew how fiercely loyal Scott McCall was to those who bled for him.
To completely lock in Scott’s eternal trust, Leon had to play the hero.
He forced his broken body up.
“Move,” he said, his voice flat and cold.
He launched himself forward, driving a heavy kick toward the monster’s temple.
The creature caught his leg mid-air.
The grip was absolute.
Leon felt his shin bone give way — a sickening, wet crush like chalk collapsing inside a closed fist.
Jaws immediately clamped onto his calf.
Leon screamed, a sound of pure torture echoing through the preserve.
Scott dragged himself off the ground, bringing a heavy rock down onto the creature’s skull.
The Alpha didn’t even flinch, sending Scott flying across the clearing with a lazy backhand.
“InteReSting.”
The voice was a terrifying layering of multiple distinct voices speaking out of sync.
The creature’s physical mouth didn’t move.
It smiled — a horrific pulling back of black lips.
The giant creature threw its head back and let out a massive, deafening howl that hit Leon like a physical pressure wave.
When Leon finally managed to blink his eyes open, the monster was gone.
***********
The trek back was absolute torture.
Leon’s broken leg dragged uselessly over the rough terrain, every single step sending a pulse of agony up his spine.
Scott, bleeding heavily from his own side, was carrying almost all of Leon’s weight.
They finally broke through the tree line onto a narrow, asphalt back road engulfed in thick fog.
A pair of high beams rounded the curve fast.
Leon used the last of his strength to yank Scott back into the safety of the brush just as a burgundy SUV blew past them.
As the high beams swept across the road, Leon caught a crystal-clear view through the glass.
A woman with a cold expression carved out of stone was driving — Victoria Argent.
And in the passenger seat sat Allison Argent, staring directly out the window.
Their eyes locked through the glass for a fraction of a second before the SUV disappeared into the fog.
“Don’t move,” Leon whispered to a bewildered Scott.
“Give it a minute.”
Once he made sure the car did not stop for them, Scott helped him hobble the remaining distance to the hidden Mustang.
Scott took the keys and drove them back to the Lockhart villa in dead silence, his knuckles stark white on the steering wheel.
When they finally arrived, Scott carefully helped Leon inside and lowered him onto the large living room couch.
“Thank you, Leon…
but I still really think we need to go to an emergency room,” Scott panicked, holding his bleeding upper hip and staring at Leon’s ruined leg.
“No,” Leon hissed through tightly clenched teeth.
“Think about it, Scott.
If werewolves are actually real — and we both just got bitten by one — going to a public hospital right now is the worst thing we could do.”
Scott dropped his head into his hands.
“What about your leg?”
“The bone is snapped, not shattered.
I just need to keep it perfectly straight.”
Under Leon’s guidance, Scott disappeared into the garage, returning with a sturdy wooden plank and a roll of heavy tape.
His hands were still shaking, but the motions were practiced — one wrap under the knee, two over the splint, a clean lock at the ankle.
Working at the animal clinic for Deaton had taught him a few things, even if they’d never involved a real human bone before.
He had the splint secured in under a minute.
“You should crash here tonight,” Leon said, leaning his head back.
“My parents won’t be back until tomorrow evening.
Tell your mom you’re staying over at a friend’s house to study.” Scott gave a slow nod and disappeared into the guest room down the hall Leon pointed at to make the call.
An oppressive silence settled over the villa.
Leon lay flat on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling.
At first I would have preferred to turn into a vampire and get me a day ring, but after seeing that Alpha, I don’t feel that regretful anymore.
I shouldn’t judge this world based on the shows.
This is very different.
His leg was a total mess, but the pain was beginning to feel distant, like someone was turning down a volume dial inside his nervous system.
A sharp, tingling sensation ignited at the very edges of the bite wound.
It raced up his calf, flooded his thigh, and washed over his chest.
His heart was hammering like a heavy war drum.
His vision flickered.
For a single, dizzying second, the familiar layout of the living room was entirely overlaid with glowing symbols, faint lines of text, and a translucent neon light at the absolute edges of his sight.
He sat up — doing it so fast his body practically blurred.
When he looked down, the massive swelling had already vanished.
The bone was still slightly misaligned, but the agonizing fracture was rapidly knitting itself back together right beneath the wood.
He held his hands up in the dim light.
The veins running along his wrists and palms had turned incredibly dark, appearing almost pitch black beneath his skin.
And then, at the very bottom of his line of sight, a series of glowing words manifested, burned directly into his retinas:
[Werewolf Bloodline detected…]
The text hung suspended in his vision for three seconds, pulsing faintly, before slowly fading into the darkness.