A/N; If you read this story before October and are just coming back you should know that I've rewritten the first four chapters since then. Switching them from third to first person narration. I believe it fits more to the telling and feel of the story that I wish to write. All the chapters are also longer and filled with tons more gooey chocolately goodness.

I know this is probably a given, especially after this chapter but I don't like Braeden. Something about her just rubs me the wrong way... And no its not because she has a thing with Derek. I actually liked Jennifer, before she turned out to be hideous vengeful monster. Anyways, I can't just delete her from the series, or my story, but let's just say that her half naked playful scenes with Derek are very much non existent. She'll be staying at a motel… across town. She's a hired gun, she can afford it.

And, I'm sorry for the delay lovelies, its been a hectic couple of weeks.

Disclaimer; I do not own Teen Wolf, the right belongs to Jeff Davis. I just play in his world.

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Chapter 5; Scorching Fires

Danny

I pushed open the door with my elbow, propping it open with my foot as I manoeuvred myself in. The polka dotted boxes stacked in my arms tilting precariously to the side. Managing to straighten my cargo before they tumbled to the floor I placed them on the front desk.

Orderly and clean, I would bet everything on the fact that Amelia had most likely straightened it up for me. Walking around the desk, I stuck my small purse off to the side before patting down my shirt to remove any nonexistent fluffs that had somehow magically appeared. Not for the first time I wondered about the outfit I had chosen.

After getting up ridiculously early this morning, I had sat on my bed for nearly forty-five minutes. Teeth brushed, face washed and makeup lightly applied I was stuck. Drawers open, the two full ones at least, and my closet thrown open I had debated what to wear. What did 'police station front desk help people' wear to work? Was there a dress code? Would they give me some sort of uniform? Amelia wore a uniform. Yes, but she was a police officer. Ugh, I didn't want to over dress and end up looking stuffy or over eager but at the same time I didn't want to be a degenerate slob manning the phones. I should wear a pencil skirt, I decided. You don't have a pencil skirt, I argued with myself. I went back and forth a hundred times and through a numerous outfits before I settled on something simple. It wasn't like I had tons of options anyways.

The final choice was a white v-neck tee shirt tucked into a black pair of skinny jeans. I topped it all off by pulling my long hair up in a ponytail, adding a few curls at the end and blowing out my bangs in a airy sweep. Throwing on my lace up boots, a sturdy Steve Madden knock off, I had headed out before I could change my mind... Again.

So here I was, first day at the new job. You would think that with all the fresh starts and first days I had over the years, I'd be pro. Far from it, my stomach still did summersaults, my hands sweated and I fidgeted constantly. What I was great at however, was pretending to be a pro. So after giving myself a small pep talk, thats what I did. Besides some of these people I had know for years and well, I suppose it gave you a little pull when your uncle was sheriff and head of the department.

Wiping my hands on my jeans I picked up my boxes. Straightening my shoulders, I headed to the back and into the break room.

Putting them down on the counter, I took a deep breath and turned to face the already assembled officers.

"Alright y'all, first and foremost I figured, let's get this stereotype out of the way."

Oh god, I had gone southern on them. I thought back to all the times I had jokingly used 'y'all' when I lived in the south, mocking my friends and imitating their southern twang. Until, somewhere down the line, along with my love of sweet tea, a few words and phrases had stuck. It hadn't taken long to kick the habit when I had moved on but every once in a while they still made a reappearance. Like now, way to show them you're a professional Danny.

My internal monologuing was interrupted when laughter broke out through the room and I was patted and prodded out of the way to make a clear path to the donuts. Searching the room for my uncle, I saw him leaning against the door frame. Coffee cup in hand he was shaking his head slowly and laughing. Catching my eye he motioned to the side with his head and I followed him out of the room.

Sitting down at the edge of his desk he turned to me, a sad smile on his face.

"You did good, kiddo. They needed that, you have no idea how much."

I looked at him, taking in the heaviness of his posture and the tired lines on his face. There were bags underneath his eyes and his hair was mussed, now doubt he had been running his hands through it. How much sleep had he gotten last night? Did he even come home? I thought back to last night. Stiles and I had talked for hours, late into the night. To think of it now, I don't recall hearing him come in.

Dread filled me, "What happened?" I practically whispered.

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Three people were murdered in their home last night. A young teenage boy was... he barely got away, ran all the way to the hospital, barefoot and bleeding."

"How were they killed? Do you know? Is it..." I took a glance at the open door behind me, "Um, animal related?"

We both knew what I was asking.

"I honestly don't know. It was a real mess. I'm headed to the hospital in a few to find out."

He picked his jacket up off the stand in the corner and pulled it on.

Gesturing with his hand as he picked up the mug I walked out of the room. Following after me he placed a hand on my back, guiding me around tables and into the first main room.

"There's nothing we can do until we find out more, try not to dwell on it. And please," he stressed, leaning down close to my ear, "Don't tell your cousin anything yet. That boy thinks he needs to solve every murder that befalls this town."

Stopping in front of an occupied desk closer to the front he continued, "This here is Parrish, he'll show you the ropes. He's on the newer side himself so he's been through it all recently."

He gestured to me, "This is my niece, Danny. She's the new secretary... Receptionist... Filer.. Person... Whatever."

I smiled as he became tongue tied. Deciding to leave my job description at that he nodded at the young man, dropped a kiss on the side of my head and made his exit.

He nodded to the sheriff before going back to his work, "Just gimme, like five minutes to finish this up and then I'm yours."

"Alright," I said backing away, "I'll be up front."

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I sat at my desk on my iPhone, head resting in my hand idly as I scrolled through my endless Tumblr feed. I had survived the dreaded front of the class introduction. They were the worst. You know, when you're the new kid, and the teacher makes you stand at the front of the class and introduce yourself. I loathed the teachers who made me do that. My first day at London Prep. Ugh god, I don't care what the English say, what they speak isn't english... Either that or we speak American here. Whatever it was, it was not just an accent, there is definitely a language barrier there. Thank god, my prep days were over. Actually, thank god my days of institutionalised higher learning are over. School is out for eeeeever, I hummed.

The phone rang, interrupting my high school tirade and ACDC rendition. I looked around slightly unsure. I guess that was my queue.

Clearing my throat I picked up the phone, "Beacon Hills Sheriff Department, Front Desk, how can I help you this morning?" That sounded about right.

A women's voice filled the other end, "Hi, I was just wondering if the sheriff left for the hospital yet?" There was a familiarity in her voice.

"Oh, yes. Unc— uh," I cleared my throat, "Sheriff Stilinski left about five minutes ago. He should be there soon."

The woman hesitated for a moment, "Danny? Is that you?"

"Um, yes, hello…" I fought to keep the confusion out of my voice. I knew this voice, think Danny. Female woman, older… calling from the hospital— a smile broke out on my face, "Melissa! How are you?"

"Well, it's been a long night as you may have heard so I could be better but other then that… I'm alright. Congratulations on your degree honey, I'm so proud of you. I don't always get such good news when Scott comes home from school," she laughed, " Speaking of, Scott didn't tell me you were back in town, and for good.. or well a long time it seems, if you're answering the phones at the Sheriff station."

I fought to contain my blush at her praise, "Thank you, I would have called myself but well, I'm not one to brag…"

"You weren't always like that," she cut in, laughter in her voice, "Besides, that's something to brag about."

"As for Scott," I continued, "Don't hang him out to dry just yet, I don't even know if Stiles got around to telling him, I only got in about a night ago, and well with all the excitement the other night at the school…"

I trailed off, eyes growing wide and cursing my big mouth. I always said too much when talking to Melissa, dammit! Looks like some things hadn't changed. Growing up she'd been the only one who could get me to crack. It was a superpower. Scott and Stiles usually fought to keep me away from her anytime she caught wind of our mischievous ways.

"The mess at the vault the other night…"

I stilled as she too trailed off.

She knew. Oh thank god.

I must have said that out loud because she gave a small laugh.

"I guess, I'm not surprised. You, Scott and Stiles were always attached at the hip. I swear, most of the time, I forgot I did really only have one child."

"Oh you're much too young to be the mother of a twenty year old," I smirked.

"And that's why you'll always be my favourite child," She joked. She heard another voice in the background as the phone grew muffled, "Your uncles here Danny, I've got to go but you better come see me soon young lady."

"I will," I promised, "Have a good day."

I set the phone down in its place and went back to my Tumblr feed, humming along to some obscure tune with a smile on my face. I bit my lip, if Scott didn't know already, he would know by tonight. I should probably try to see him first, I mentally moved 'See Scott' to the top of my to do list. I fanned myself, God, it was hot in here. Was the A/C on? Or had they put the heat on already?

Thinking back to Scott I shook my head, had I even answered his last email? I hit the little blue square on my phone, opening up my mail. I scowled at myself as I noticed his last email, fuck me. I was a horrible friend.

I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow, twisting my ponytail up into a bun, I secured it loosely with a bobby pin. The room had grown stifling.

A tendril of flame flared up on my shoulder, an intense heat crawling up my arm, consuming me. The crackling inferno roared in my ears, blocking out all sound but the blood pumping in my skull. I could see the flames in my mind's eye, heat bursting out, licking across my skin. The skin of my back blistered and charred, the thick cloying scent of burning flesh and hair filling my nostrils. I gagged on my tongue bringing my hand up to cover my nose and mouth as I jumped away from the offending heat. Knocking into the front desk painfully, I turned to face the fire.

Startled, Deputy Parrish's hand fell from my shoulder as he took a step back from my small shaking frame, voice concerned, "Are you alright?"

My breath came in pants as the heat dwindled and I sucked in gulps of fresh clean air. I watched as the fire seemed to pull back into Parrish, until all that remained were the glowing embers of his eyes. I reached a hand up to my shoulder, running it under the edge of my shirt, feeling the chilled and unmarred expanse of flesh beneath my trembling fingertips. I steadied my breathing and closed my eyes, counting to five before opening them again and forcing a smile to my face.

"I'm fine, really, just startled," I insisted as the burning embers winked out of his eyes.

He gave me an odd look but settled on a tentative smile as he motioned extravagantly behind him, "Well then, your tour awaits."

I grabbed my black cardigan from my bag before turning to follow him. Pulling it around myself tightly in an effort to cut out the stark chill that my body fought to regulate after the blazing heat. Silently choking on the scent of smoke still trapped at the base of my throat.

I followed behind him as he pointed out rooms and keys, file cabinets, computers and photocopiers. I half listened as I stared at his back, taking in the full stretch of him as he walked. If I focused just right I could call up the tendrils of heat that licked up across his aura, wildly raging across the reflection of his being. A fox in the hen house.

My mind still shuddered from the assault, mentally exhausted and shuddering, but another part of me was thunderstruck. Completely astonished as I wracked my brain trying to place the origins of the being before me. What was he? He brought to mind an aura I had come across in Morocco, an Ifrit, a fiery class of Djinn with insurmountable power. Amongst the eastern world and Arabic tradition they were known by many names and apparitions, sometimes angels, other times demons, even called genies by some. I wasn't quite sure what he was, his aura was unique, but it was the closest I had ever seen. If I had to put money on it I would go with one of the classes of Djinn, or perhaps a phoenix I added as an afterthought. I looked around the office, taking in the people that smiled at me and Parrish as we walked by. Did anyone know? Did my uncle know?

I looked back at him again as we stopped at the record room. The flames of his aura ran rampant, unchecked and unrestrained, like a live wire crackling alongside a pool of water. He showed me the workings of the filing system and how to work the copier. As he made a passing joke about toner ink, my eyes grew wide as I considered another possibility… Did he know what he was? Could he feel the surge of heat inside him? The volatile time bomb ticking beneath his skins surface?

This town grew more dangerous and intricate by the day as she pulled back each layer only to find a hundred more lurking beneath its surface.

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I spent the next few hours moving back and forth between my desk and the record room, organising and storing files as I answered the phone and made photocopies of the police report's from last nights incident. I tucked an extra copy in my purse before handing the rest out to the deputy's on the case and placing the last sheet in the case file.

I hadn't even realised the passage of time until my uncle came in with a paper bag and a cup of coffee, placing them on my desk with a quick smile before disappearing to his office. My stomach rumbled as I pulled a sandwich out of the bag, a BLT from my favourite deli. I took a sip of my coffee and sighed, vanilla hazelnut, it instantly chased away any remaining chill from my psyche. I cracked my neck and rubbed my shoulder before tucking into my late lunch. The dull twinges of pain would linger on my shoulder for days, the phantom burn rubbing and itching across the muscle and skin.

It was instances like this when my gift felt more like the curse some saw it to be. My sight always manifested in different ways, not all pleasant. Sometimes it was purely visual, like glimpsing a pixie across the garden or a troll meandering through the woods beside the highway. Other times, I received strange feelings or shocks when directly interacting with 'supes' or anything to do with the 'hidden world.' It differed with my level of familiarity, to a person or specie. Shifters hardly phased me anymore, nothing particularly unpleasant anyways, while wolves themselves were mostly just a brush on my conscious that deemed recognition. As with Derek, there had been no pain or shock, just vibrancy, an annoying buzz that sought her to glimpse his aura. But like I said, it wasn't always pleasant. Sometimes I was graced with visions or glimpses I had no control over, usually but not always they resulted in pounding headaches and nosebleeds. They hit me at any time, striking me in the middle of the day or screaming me awake in the dead of night. Then there were manifestations of power, like earlier. An expulsion of energy striking out of an aura, radiating violently across my own. These manifestations and visions sometimes had greater lingering effects then the simple headache, nausea or nosebleed. The stronger the power, the deeper it struck. Over the years I had developed cuts and lacerations, bruises and burns. Sometimes there were clearly there, marked across my skin, yet other times they were scars that ghosted across my psyche. Invisible wounds, I could surely feel but never see. They were never life threatening and in a few days, or weeks they faded, disappearing into nothing.

My hand self consciously pulling at the base of my tee shirt before I knew what I was doing. A couple left lasting scars, like the thin pale lines across my hip, a memory transference from a little boy in India. His family had been slaughtered by the blood-soaked claws of a Rakshasa, a hideous demonic creature of Hindu mythology that feasted on blood and flesh, he had barely escaped with his life. And I had spent the next three days in the hospital beside him, recovering from the spiritual horror that had been passed to me.

I shook my head, clearing unpleasant memories from my brain. Those instances were few and far in-between. Gifted like myself, the young boy had not realised the depth of his powerful emotion when he had lashed out in his moment of terror, his aura seeking to share the burden of its anguish. The knowledge that incident had revealed was always at the back of my mind, the pain and infliction an aura could cause. Did it only transfer through the gifted? Or could that pain be directed on to others? Harnessed into a weapon? I knew one thing for sure, that amount of energy acted as a beacon. One that at the time I had been able to inform the authorities of before succumbing to my mental exhaustion. Had anyone else heard his call that day? Such a strong little boy I smiled, Nayan was eleven now. He had grown up so much in the last few years, so advanced for his age. He lived with his aunt and uncle now and attended school in New Delhi, he wrote often.

I cleaned up after finishing lunch, tossing the paper bag in the trash and making a quick trek to the bathroom. I washed my hands, then delicately peeled back the edge of my shirt. A very light red outline graced my otherwise smooth flesh, a perfect indentation of Parrish's fingers. It wasn't bad, I deduced, it would be completely gone in a couple days. Pulling the bobby pin from my hair, I untwisted my bun and tightened my ponytail before making my way back to my desk.

When I returned there was a young black woman leaning against my desk. Thick dark curly hair tumbling over her shoulders, a look of impatience on her perfect features. In a black button up shirt and green tailored suit jacket, she played with the end of her deep burgundy scarf. It was like a million degrees outside, who do you think you're fooling?

I slid in to my seat, giving her a warm smile as I apologised for my absence. Seeing her straight on, I fought to keep my shock inside, luckily I had practice in keeping my emotions in check, usually anyways. Her smooth mocha coloured skin was interrupted by four massive scars that ran along the side of her face, across her neck and disappeared beneath her shirt. The angry white lines only seemed to heighten the effect of her cold beauty, a harsh flaw that brought the rest of her into emphasis.

Her eyes roamed over me, cold and calculated behind her open smile, "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Oh, hell no. Before I could respond she started speaking again.

"I called about the case file," she said, holding up her badge, a haughty smile on her face.

I instantly disliked her.

I scrunched up my nose, putting up my fakest and brightest smile, "Just gimme a quick second, while I go collect the file and check with the Sheriff."

Her smile halted for a fraction of a second before she nodded her head. The edge of her scars puckering as she slightly pursed her lips, I could see her tongue running over her teeth. So she was worried, I speculated, nervous even.

I looked her over again, paying close attention to her eyes as I took a glimpse at her aura. I was shocked to noticed the shadowy tears in her aura, mirroring her scars perfectly, a lingering shine of vibrant red beneath its surface. An alpha always did leave its mark.

Though my observation had only taken a few seconds, she interrupted my quick gaze, eyebrows raised, with an impatient, "Well?"

I smiled and turned on my heel. Bitch.

Noting my uncle and deputy Parrish in the lunch room, I headed there.

"Uh, theres a U.S. Marshall here. Said she called about some case files?" I inquired.

It was Parrish who answered me, "Yeah Tony, said something about that earlier. She's here about last nights incident."

"So, Tony took a message and were just going to hand it over to her?"

They both looked at me, incredulous looks on their faces.

"Oookay then," I replied spinning away from the room and collecting the file, teeth on edge.

She smirked when she saw me returning, file in hand.

Before handing it over I put on my sweetest voice, "As it's a recent ongoing investigation I just wanted to remind you that that file is not allowed to leave the station."

Sure usually Beacon Hills didn't usually enforce that rule but I didn't like her.

She gritted her teeth before taking the file and flipping it open, reading through a few pages she shut it and slid it over to me, "Be a good girl and make a copy of these for me, will you. I'm sure you make excellent photocopies."

That, was a perfectly reasonable request, I tried to tell myself. A burning fury settling in my core. You're being irrational, Danny. Flames rose up in the pit of my stomach, almost rivalling the heat from earlier. I'm not being irrational, I argued with myself as I followed the light of the copier back and forth, she knows something. And I'd bet that she probably isn't who she says she is but what do I know, I seethed, I'm just a lowly secretary.

I handed her the copied file, still hot from the machine. Making sure that our fingers slightly graze as she takes it from me. Nothing. No flash. No feeling besides my gut. Nada. Zilch. Fuck.

She turned to leave, almost a skip in her step. Flipping her hair over her shoulder she shot me a triumphant look.

I told myself not too, really I did. I just couldn't help myself.

"Careful," I called out to her, halting her steps, "Full moon's coming."

Her face blanched before slowly tightening as she turned and disappeared out the door.

Checkmate.

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A/N; Please please review! Let me hear your wondrous thoughts on the newest insight on Danny and her abilities. Is it too much at once? Too confusing? :3 xx