Every time Parrish went out onto the parking lot, he remembered that he should've died here if he was just a normal guy. But obviously, he wasn't. He was supernatural, like Lydia and Scott and all of their friends.

It hadn't been hard to guess that something was wrong with those kids. They were constantly involved in some new mysterious crime, mostly unsolved murders that nobody at the station could figure out. And they were hanging out in the sheriff's office far too often for a bunch of ordinary teenagers.

To be honest, Scott's "pack" had always seemed kind of strange to him. Parrish had been suspecting things for a while, but he would never have guessed what was really going on. That Scott and his friends were actually supernatural creatures; a couple of werewolves, a werecoyote, a kitsune, a banshee – and a Stiles, who certainly had his own supernatural ability of annoying people.

Parrish shot a quick glance in Lydia's direction. She was sitting in the passenger seat of the police car, her head resting against the windowpane. She looked tired, and for a moment he felt bad for stealing her precious time. There were certainly a thousand things she would've rather done – she probably had classes this morning, though she hadn't mentioned it to him.

It was hard to believe that Lydia was still seventeen. She was way too smart for the limited world of high school; had to carry too much weight for an ordinary teenage girl. For a moment, Parrish wondered how she could even handle this situation, being a banshee and finding dead bodies all the time. Hadn't she tried to give it up, to deny her abilities, to live a normal life? She could've convinced herself she was psychic after all, like everybody – including him – had suspected.

As if Lydia had read his thoughts, which she probably had, she turned her head and looked at him. "You wanna tell me where we're going?" she asked plainly.

Parrish focused on the traffic again, slightly embarrassed that Lydia had caught him staring at her. "You'll learn soon enough", he murmured.

"Well, you need to tell me something if you want me to help you", Lydia replied.

Parrish hesitated. "Banshee's predict death, don't they?" he asked then.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Then let's just say I need you to do what a banshee's best at", he explained.

Lydia sighed in frustration. "I really don't get why you're being so mysterious."

That was a good question. He just had the impression he couldn't tell her the whole truth yet – maybe he was afraid she wouldn't help him anymore if she knew. Maybe she'd want to get out of the car immediately, and she would never say a word to him again. There was more than one reason he didn't want this to happen.

"You said you trust me", Parrish reminded her softly, "and I'm not the person to abuse other people's trust. Besides, you also want to find out what I am, right?"

He knew that she was looking his way right now, so he did his best to keep his eyes on the street.

"Okay", Lydia admitted then. "Of course I want to know why you're worth five million dollars. I'm just a little impatient, with all those things going on at the same time."

"If you mean Meredith, she's gonna be fine", Parrish assured her. "Sheriff Stilinski is constantly keeping an eye on her, and he'll call me right away if her condition changes. No need to worry about her."

"You're probably right", Lydia said, though she didn't sound too convinced.

They continued the drive in silence.

After only a few minutes, Parrish slowed the car down to walking pace. They had reached an abandoned quarter of Beacon Hills; many of the houses were empty because their owners had died several years ago.

As he pulled into a driveway at the end of the street, Parrish could literally feel Lydia's distaste for this place. He stopped the car in front of a small building that resembled a cabin.

"Home, sweet home", he muttered sarcastically. There was really nothing "sweet" about this place; that's why he didn't mind spending his nights at the police station, keeping himself busy with work.

Lydia raised her eyebrows at him. "This is where you live?"

Her voice was full of disbelief, but Parrish only laughed. "I'm just a deputy; this thing's cheap and you got your privacy."

"I see", Lydia murmured.

Of course, she couldn't understand what he was talking about. The Martins were probably the richest people in town, considering they had a practically unused lake house that was bigger than his own home. He couldn't expect Lydia to know what it was like for him; living alone, struggling to pay rent.

But in the end, Parrish had chosen this life himself. He had felt drawn here for some mysterious reason, and even though this was miles away from the luxurious life he'd always imagined for his future, he knew he had done the right thing. He liked his job; he liked to help people, figure things out. And there were a lot of things to figure out here in Beacon Hills.

Parrish used to think it was his fate to help others – the reason why he'd been sent here. But since he'd learned about all the supernatural creatures hanging around in Beacon Hills, he wondered if maybe he was here for a different reason. After all, he was supernatural himself…

"I'm just gonna get some gasoline." Gripped by a sudden determination, Parrish got out of the car and disappeared into the house. Five minutes later, he was storing the full canister in the trunk and climbing back inside.

"I have a feeling I will regret this", Lydia told him. "What's the gasoline for?"

Parrish turned to face her, but instead of answering her question, he looked at her apologetically. "You'll find out when we're at the warehouse. It's not far from here, okay?"

"The warehouse?" Lydia asked, still confused. "I really don't like this."

There was something fearful about her words; something that put Parrish on edge. "Please, you have to help me", he found himself begging. "You're the only one who can do this, Lydia. I'm serious; I need you."


The warehouse was a gloomy place, poorly lit by a bare bulb and reeking of fuel. There was dust everywhere; Parrish knew that the building had been deserted for at least twenty years. A large parking lot adjoined the building, and the whole area was surrounded by a safety fence. At the gate, a warning sign read: No admittance for unauthorized personnel. This was simply the perfect place to put his plan into action.

Lydia didn't seem to like it, though; she kept glancing around as if they could be attacked at any second. When Parrish finally told her about his plan, her eyes grew wide.

"You want me to burn you?" she asked in disbelief. "Okay, you have obviously lost your mind now."

"Lydia, all I'm asking of you is to use your banshee power and make sure I won't die." Parrish put the can of gasoline down and took off his jacket.

"But that's not how it works!" Lydia protested, throwing her strawberry blond hair back in indignation. "I don't even know how to control my powers, let alone how to use them correctly. I can't do this."

"You can", Parrish said. "I know you can." Then he took a step forward, resting his hands on Lydia's shoulders as he continued. "I wouldn't do this if it weren't absolutely necessary. But I'm willing to stand the pain if it helps me find out what – who – I really am! Isn't that what you want, too?"

"Finding out what you really are, yes", Lydia answered. "Watching you burn alive, certainly not."

"I told you, I can stand the pain", Parrish replied, even if he knew it would be hard. But as he'd said, he was willing to go through this hell all over again if that's what he needed to do.

"Lydia, from all that I've learned about you so far, you know whenever a person's going to die", he said, looking right into her eyes. "So you will also know when I'm about to die, right?"

Lydia bit her lower lip. "Right, I guess", she muttered after a while.

"Okay, then. If you think I might die – die for good, I mean – it's your job to kill the fire. Otherwise, you just watch whatever will happen to me. Got it?"

Lydia nodded slowly, though he could see that she was absolutely averse to his plan. Parrish released her shoulders and took a step back. He wished there was something he could say to make her feel better, but as he didn't find the right words, he started unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he grabbed the can of fuel and poured its content all over his body, so every bit of his skin would easily catch fire.

Of course, all of this seemed strange to him. He couldn't blame Lydia for calling his plan insane – actually, it was. But somehow, Parrish knew he had to do it. If he wanted to find out the truth about himself, he had to face the flames and the pain that would come with them. Knowledge could only be achieved at a price; that's how life worked, even in the supernatural world.

Parrish took a deep breath and looked over at Lydia, who was fumbling nervously at the hem of her sweater. Seeing her worried face, the words suddenly came to him all by themselves.

"Listen, I think I have quite a good knowledge of human nature. And I chose you for this job because I know you can do it, and because I trust you. What else do you wanna hear?"

Lydia shrugged, obviously giving up the fight. "I guess a few more screams won't matter to me, anyway."

"I'm sorry for that", Parrish told her, feeling all the more guilty to burden her with this job. "I hope you know how much I appreciate your help. – Now, could you please light a match?"

He pulled the matchbox out of his pocket and threw it at her. Lydia caught it, then bit her lip before pulling out a match. Parrish felt impatient as he watched her cautious movements. He wanted to have it over with, and his doubts were getting stronger by the second.

Lydia's hands trembled; she needed three attempts to light the match. In small steps, she made her way toward him, searching his face every now and then as if she waited for him to stop this insanity. But Parrish remained silent, despite the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. One look at the match and he could almost sense the pain, as vivid as it was in his memory.

His voice of reason fought hard to gain control, but for the first time in his life, Parrish wasn't supposed to act reasonable. He told himself that he was just doing his job: digging for the truth. He was a deputy, after all, and even though this case seemed impossible to solve, he had to figure something out. It didn't matter what price he had to pay; it was also part of his job to make sacrifices for the benefit of other people. And who knew what would happen to him one day, if his supernatural abilities got the upper hand? What if he hurt people, or actually killed them?

Parrish knew he had to find out the truth about himself before he put someone else in danger. It was this thought that helped him to steel himself for the pain.

"Throw it at my feet and stand back", he instructed Lydia. "I'll be okay."

"I don't want to do this", she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Lydia, I'm counting on you", Parrish said insistently. "Do it."

He looked at her for a long moment, trying to memorize every detail of her pretty face. When she finally dropped the match, he could only think how glad he was to have her around. Lydia's eyes were the last thing he saw before he was engulfed in flames, and somehow, he could still see them when the pain set in. Only this time, it didn't seem so bad.