The Princess Without a Crown -- [COMPLETE]

"Why am I always with the felons..."

Rebekah's POV

"Hey!" Rebekah gripped the steering wheel hard and glared over at Peter who sat in the passenger seat. She'd been nodding her head along to Taylor Swift, minding her spiraling emotions when he'd reached over and turned the station.

Peter let out a dramatic groan and let his head drop back against the headrest. "I'd rather you leave me to starve on the road than continue listening to that."

"That's the best idea you've had since we met! I'll gladly leave you behind and let the vultures pick you off," she snapped at him, "My niece is stuck in some horror movie and if I want to sing along to Shake It Off I will, and don't expect me to ask for permission."

"Okay," Stiles started, leaning forward between their seats, "I think everyone is just a bit on edge. How about we stop for something to eat and regroup. Maybe the others have found something."

Sighing, Rebekah glanced at the time on the dashboard. She didn't want to stop- despite having been driving for hours through the dusty heat of Arizona. Any time spent on themselves could be time used to find Hope and every minute counted. Though it felt like they'd already wasted so much time.

They didn't know where to search, didn't even know which direction to drive. For all she knew, they could be going in circles.

Slowly she nodded "Fine. We can stop, but not for long..." she said as she pulled onto a road that looked like it led toward lights in the distance. The sun had fallen a couple of hours ago, leaving the desert an almost completely darkened abyss. It was almost unsettling, but the blanket of the stars above helped to calm some of her nerves.

"Looks to be a town of sorts ahead. We can stop there for a time, but don't get too cozy."

Fifteen minutes later, Rebekah was pulling into the parking lot of a bar where there was an advertisement for hamburgers and hot wings on a flashing neon sign. It wasn't necessarily her cup of tea, but she could make do.

"Alright, I'm leaving in half an hour whether either of you is in the car or not," Rebekah said as she cut the engine and checked her makeup in the rearview mirror.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Peter roll his eyes and started to get out. Muttering under his breath, "Whatever you say, Barbie."

"Drop the attitude." She snapped at him, but he'd already closed the door.

Stiles puffed his cheeks with air and let it out slowly as the awkwardness settled in the silent car. "I'm...gonna go pee." With that, he slipped out of the car and Rebekah watched as he did some sort of jogging sprint to the door. Where the bouncer successfully deflected him.

Huffing a sigh, Rebekah got out. "I swear..." she muttered as she walked toward the bouncer, offered an award-winning smile that stretched her dimples (while Stiles did a potty dance of sorts), and looked into the man's eyes. Her pupils dilated as she spoke. "He can go in."

"You can go in," the bouncer replied robotically, stepping aside.

"Lovely." Rebekah smiled, walking in after Stiles who bolted to the sketchy bathroom in the back, narrowly avoiding a gang of bikers playing some sort of card game in one of the booths.

Outside hadn't looked promising, so at least she wasn't too disappointed to be hit with the stench of stale beer, piss, and cigarettes. Was she really going to buy food here? The growling protest of her stomach answered for her and truth be told she wished it would shut up. She didn't necessarily like eating in locations where she wasn't sure why the floor was sticky.

Still, she sauntered toward the front bar. "I suppose a basket of fries," she nodded and looked at the racks of liquor, "And tequila - three shots."

"Risk taker I see."