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."

She hadn't realized Peter had been right next to her until it was too late. Rebekah rubbed her temples and looked over at him. "You know, you're not as cute as you think you are."

Peter flashed a grin "You think I'm cute?"

"No. You think you're cute. I think you're annoying." Rebekah picked up one of the shots and swallowed it down in a swift gulp.

"Oh, don't flirt with me like that," he chuckled, sipping his own drink. Which she assumed was a whiskey based on the scent, "I might just fall in love with you...oh, no sorry, this isn't a 90's horror film."

"Hm, then why is the fashion sense the same?" she asked, looking him up and down.

"Ouch," he said, placing a hand over his heart, "You wound me, Rebekah. I'd have thought a lady such as yourself would have more manners than that."

"My manners are reserved for respectable men." She picked up a fry and took a bite.

"Am I not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. A slow smirk crooking his lips.

"If you are, you've yet to prove yourself," Rebekah gave him a look, "Ken."

Pursing his lips into a thin line, Peter nodded slowly. "Heard that, did you?"

"No, I just pretended I did." She retorted.

Peter chuckled again as Rebekah reached for her second shot of tequila. She raised it to her lips and froze. Raising a sculpted brow, she looked down at the liquid. She smelled the top, breathing in the burning scent of vervain.

"Oh, this should be fun..." Rebekah said as Stiles showed up behind them and took a fry from the basket.

"What'd I miss?" he asked, continuing to eat from the basket.

"Well," Rebekah looked over at the bartender, then back at the bouncer, "You're actually about to witness something truly spectacular, darling." All eyes were on her. Even the gang of bikers in the corner.

"Enjoying your drink?" the bartender approached, throwing a towel over his shoulder and leaning his hands against the edge. The eyepatch over his right eye wasn't what caught her eyes. The word chasseur was tattooed in bold ink on the base of his throat.

Rebekah smiled dangerously, eyes glinting with subdued anger. "Do you enjoy spiking a lady's drinks?"

"You're no lady." He said, leaning forward.

"Oh...no..." Stiles started, looking around with an audible gulp. "I knew I should have peed on the side of the road."

Peter rubbed his temples "Any bright ideas?" he asked her.

"A few..." Rebekah said, tilting her head. She lunged then, grabbing the bartender by the throat. Her manicured nails sliced into his jugular and hung on. Gripping him like a barb-wired vice. She yanked him over the bar and tossed him onto the floor, watching him sputter and gurgle while bleeding to death from his jugular on the dirty bar floor. "I suppose that won't be cleaned up well either. It's like this place has never heard of bleach."

"Oh my God..." Stiles' voice shook as he practically dove behind the bar, clearly not about to be caught in the middle of the fight.

Looking up, the bikers and bouncers (now there were two of them) moved forward and crowded around them.

"Bitch." A biker with a black leather jacket and a gray beard down to his chest seethed at her through his yellowing teeth.

"I do detest that word," Rebekah said, licking her finger and then licking her upper lip, "However, I'm willing to forgive in exchange for a bit of information. I want to know about the supernatural games. The fighting that happens in the ring."

Deep belly laughter erupted in the place.

"Like we'd tell a vampire anything. You're about to die, blondie. How's that feel?" The bouncer grinned. "Too bad you have such a pretty face. I'd love to see your mouth around me before you burn alive. What do ya say?"

"Hm..." she looked him over, rage simmering beneath her surface. "That was by far the worst pickup line I've ever heard." She picked up a steak knife on the closest table to her right, and in the blink of an eye, she stabbed through his crotch and yanked it free only to throw it into the eye of another biker nearby who died instantly. He kicked him to the floor and listened to him scream while she placed the heel of her stiletto against his jugular.

"Let that be a lesson, gents. In no way is that how you talk to a lady. Let alone a Mikaelson..." The man under her heel whimpered, gripping the hole in his crotch before she slammed her heel into his vein and pulled out swiftly. Letting him bleed out as well. Her eyes darkened, the veins crawling beneath her eyes. "I suggest you answer my question. I'm starving and cranky. Not a good combination."

One moment the bikers were trying to crowd around them as a challenge, and the next they were scrambling to get out of dodge.

Cowards, Rebekah thought as she suddenly stood in front of the door, blocking their exit. "My niece is suffering at the hands of your group....and I'm in no mood to turn the other cheek."

Necks were snapped. Heads were rolled. Hearts were tossed.

Rebekah felt only slightly better after she finished. She walked across the bloodied floor of limp bodies and searched for a lighter "Stiles, stop hiding and help me burn the bar down."

"Why am I always with the felons!" Stiles exclaimed as he crept out from behind the bar, trying to avoid looking at the twisted bodies.

Peter, who had watched with raised brows and his mouth shut, finally grinned. "Where have you been all my life..."

Rebekah gave him a look as she wiped a bit of blood off her cheek "Don't flirt."

"Too late." He said with a smirk as he dipped behind the bar. Taking out two bottles of vodka from the rack he offered one to Rebekah. "Cheers."

Rolling her eyes, she smiled. Just a little.

They poured the contents over the bodies and around the bar before lighting it up. They piled into the car and sped down the dirt road toward a busier part of town where they might have more luck and fewer hunters. In the rearview mirror, Rebekah watched the bar go up in flames.

Good.

Don't fight a woman if you're afraid of third-degree burns.

Rebekah slammed into something hard on the road that made her yank the wheel and spin off the road. With a gasp, she looked around. "Bloody hell..." she looked back at Stiles to see if he was okay, then over at Peter, "What was that?" She looked out the front window, seeing some kind of lump in the road but the brightness of her headlights distorted what it was.

"Uh," Peter started, pulling his brows together, "I think you just hit my nephew with your car..."