Beacon Hills, from the top of the ridge, it looks like every other New England town. Lights from homes shine as bright as the stars above; life, and families unaware. Oblivious of the darkness, the blood that has stained these suburban streets. Beacon Hills, a town that is more than it appears, a town with a secret. If only they knew, that there are things much scarier, more dangerous than the fictional monster under your bed. Beasts that are stronger, faster, more dangerous, and he, Chris Argent, had no problem facing them all. Lately, however he began doubting himself…doubting whether he or his daughter would be able to handle what was coming. He took a deep breath and let the cool fall air fill his lungs as he looked out at the town. According to Derek, the Alphas were coming… a pack of them. He ran his hand through his hair as he thought about his daughter and her friends, of Scott and the rest of the rag-tag group of teens. Derek was strong, so was Scott, and Stiles and the others were brave and stupid but none of these kids were ready for what was coming. They needed more help, more… reinforcements. Chris Argent was a proud man, a hunter; it took a lot to rattle him and now was one of those times. Chris took out a weathered, napkin from some diner where there was a phone number written in faded ink. He dialed the number; the phone rang for a bit before it stopped then a gruff voice came through

"Hello?"

"John, John Winchester?" Chris asked, his voice was even and he heard a slight pause then a cough on the other line,

"Who the hell wants to know?"

"I'm a friend, my name's Chris Argent, he owed me a favor and now I'm calling it in. Who is this?" Chris asked, his voice remaining calm as he heard some noise that sounded like shuffling in the background.

"His son Dean. John is dead, what was is this favor?" the man, Dean said gruffly and Chris paused briefly at the news of John's death but soon continued,

"Werewolves, a pack of Alphas." Chris explained, Dean sighed

"Hold on," Chris could hear what sounded like muffled conversation between two people then he heard Dean swear then came back on,

"Where?" Chris interpreted that as an agreement,

"Beacon Hills, MA"

"All right," Dean clipped then the line went dead. Chris scoffed then smirked; Dean was definitely John's son. Chris took one last look at Beacon Hills before walking to his car; the wind began to pick up making him pull his jacket tighter. When he got into the car he looked at the sky and even in the night sky he could feel the tension, the calm before the storm. He just hoped they were ready for it.