Note: Thank you for the kind words. I'm having too much fun with this story! I didn't realize anyone would actually want to read a Jeemaro WIP.


The first thing that registered in Betty's mind was that the floor was freezing and human skin was absolutely terrible for insulation. The second thing she realized was that it had been a while since Stiles had filled her tank up with gas. As a car, she generally felt uncomfortable. As a human, her insides decided it would be a grand idea to churn around and make beautiful noises. So before she could really answer any of Stiles' questions, her stomach growled. Loudly.

Any anger or annoyance that Stiles displayed immediately wiped itself from his face. Apparently having a naked and hungry girl in one's garage drastically changed one's point of view.

"Are you... homeless or something? Stealing unsuspecting cars to sell on the black market so you can get food? I have all kinds of weapons around here and I know how to use all of them so… if you're some crazy… lady… thing, I warn you. I can handle myself."

Something new bubbled up from inside Betty and before she could stop herself, her mouth opened wide and a loud guffaw escaped. She knew she was laughing but to actually experience it was something for the record books.

Stiles was not nearly as impressed with her newfound ability to make her diaphragm explode. He flapped his arms at his sides and looked genuinely dejected. "Oh come on, I can so defend myself. Against a naked girl, even. Can you just… can you cover yourself? Please?"

Betty looked down at her new body and realized that maybe she was sitting in a rather open fashion. She closed her legs and in doing so, Stiles seemed to calm down a lot and stopped shifting so much. She needed to explain herself. He needed to explain himself. There was a lot of explaining that needed to go on and Betty had no idea where to even begin.

Stiles, though, had different plans. Betty should have known he'd know what to do. He'd always been so resourceful. Scattered around Betty were several lacrosse sticks and even a blanket. She recognized the items from behind her hatch. It seemed that when whatever-it-was turned her human, she'd lost most of the contents of her trunk.

Sort of.

She reached a hand around to feel her derriere. It was quite squishy, plump and pillow-y. Stiles had a bony bottom. If a human like herself sat in her seats, Betty wouldn't mind at all.

"Aw, jeez, what are you doing, now?" Stiles groaned. He'd been sorting through the debris that littered the garage floor and tossed her a blanket. "Cover yourself up. If you're not going to kill me or eat my brains or flesh or whatever, the least you can do is make yourself decent. I'm going to make some phone calls and report my poor Betty missing and you get to sit around and wait for my dad to get home. He's the Sheriff, you know." He said his father's elected position in a threatening tone-as if it should illicit some kind of conditioned fear response in Betty. She just stared at him. He rolled his eyes. "Don't go anywhere."

He picked up his phone to make a call, but before he could, it started buzzing in his hand and he answered it, awkwardly.

"Yo."

Betty couldn't hear the voice from the other line, but it made Stiles' face pale.

"Derek?"

Ugh. Betty took the blanket and buried her face in it. She didn't want to see or hear this.

"Yeah, I've got a bit of a problem here, too. My Je—What? …. Are you serious?" Stiles' jaw went slack and he stopped talking. Betty stole a glance at him only to find that he was staring intently at her. With a shaking hand he tugged a little at the blanket. Instinctively, Betty pulled back, but not before exposing the necklace she was wearing. "She's wearing a necklace all right. But it's not what I bought in that store. I mean, well, it kind of looks like it… but it's not. I didn't buy a necklace, you know? I don't… psh… I don't buy jewelry. Who does that? It could have been for Lydia, shut up."

Suddenly Stiles' face crunched up and he pulled the phone hard away from his ear. Betty had no trouble hearing Derek on the other end. "JUST SHUT UP. STILES, THAT'S YOUR JEEP."

"Whaaat? No, it's not," Stiles said in disbelief. He raised his eyebrows at Betty. "Are you my Jeep?"

Betty nodded, feeling very much relieved to not have to try talking herself.

"Bullshit," Stiles frowned. "These girls are obviously from some scheme to steal our totally awesome cars. You sure they're not part of the alpha pack?" He glanced quickly at Betty, came to a decision, and then hit a button on his phone.

Suddenly, Betty could hear Derek much better. "—doesn't smell like a wolf, Stiles. I swear, this is my car standing in my living room."

"Well, shit, is she hot?"

"Stiles!"

"Alright, alright. Listen I'll just dr—I mean you can just pick us— … crap. We'll meet up somewhere. Do I have to walk? Not having a car sucks." He dropped his voice a little and leaned in toward Betty. "No offense."

Betty waved off the comment. She was still in a state of shock, herself. Then again, it wasn't like cars could really harbor that many emotions. Having a human form filled her with so many different feelings, she wasn't sure she could cope properly. All she could do was sit and stare alternatively at Stiles and her fingers. She flexed them in front of her face and wiggled them around. Fingers were so odd… and they couldn't turn. Everything had a texture to it. The blanket was fluffy. The ground was smooth. Her skin was soft. Stiles' pants were rough. Stiles batted her hand away eventually.

"Peter has a car. We will be there soon."

"My dad is supposed to be home, soon!"

Derek growled from the other line and then let out a long sigh. "Then how do you feel about pancakes?"


Sitting in the passenger seat of Peter Hale's car was the latest in a series of the most awkward moments in Cam's existence. She could get over touching another car, but sitting inside of one? Things like that didn't just happen.

She tucked her hands into the sleeves of one Derek's shirts. It was large and felt more like a dress to her than anything, but she was appreciative. The sleeves flopped helplessly on her knees but she enjoyed the feeling of the extra fabric. It gave her mind something to focus on now that she was trying hard not to think about the engine at her feet or the heat blowing in her face. She kept the air vents pointed away from her because even the softest rush of air was trying to make her sick.

Really, humans had all kinds of unknown chemistry going on in their bodies. How could one possibly catch up with all of that in a matter of hours? She'd already experienced the human's version of waste disposal. It hadn't been fun. At all. There were so many rules involved and Cam wanted nothing more than to hide her face in the bathroom until Derek figured everything out for her and turned her back into her beautiful vehicle self.

At least he'd been understanding. When he brought her inside, he'd helped her into some clothing because when she woke up, she was covered up and lying on the couch. The workout shorts he gave her were still too big, even with the drawstring completely tightened, but it beat the cool air hitting her flesh.

Derek had no women in his life now that Erica was gone. When he moved to the new bachelor pad, he'd rid himself of everything related to previous pack members. This meant, of course, no shoes except obnoxiously sized flip flops. Cam needed to change back to her former glory. Now. Clothes were easily the most ridiculous human invention, yet.

Her speech had improved, though. In the wee hours of the morning, she sat with Derek and calmly went over some of the finer points of their predicament. They'd already come to the conclusion that the pendant Derek bought at 'Mr. Hopewell's Hope Well' was the cause for Cam's transformation. They just needed to see if, well, if Stiles found himself in a similar situation.

Derek hadn't wanted to call the younger boy at all, but Cam insisted. She pressed him so urgently that she almost felt as though she were pulling the puppet strings, herself, forcing him to dial the number.

It had been worth it, because Stiles happened to be in the same situation, and now they were en route to his house to pick them up for, what had Derek said? Pancakes?

"Derek," Cam said quietly, breaking the tense silence. She needed a better distraction than her own mind. "Why are we going to have pancakes?"

Derek stole a glance in her direction. He did that a lot in the few short hours she'd been human. She had no idea if she was going to get used to it or not. She had seen Derek plenty of times in plenty of situations. She'd seen him at his best and at his worst. Why should he feel the need to look so ashamed and awestruck at the same time? He turned into a wolf for heaven's sake. Surely he could get over a shape-shifting car. It wasn't even her fault, anyway.

"You need to eat," he said calmly, head turning back to the front windshield. "And we need to go somewhere safe to figure this all out."

"By eating pancakes? In public?" Cam asked. Her voice rose softly at the end, signifying her question. She'd learned that little trick early on, what with all the questions she had. Cam was a fast learner.

"If someone did this to you, they might be watching our residences. No one will attack us in a public place," said Derek.

Cam stared blankly at her driver. "Are you saying someone is after you?"

"I have many enemies."

"So they get to you through your car," Cam deadpanned. It sounded even more ridiculous when she said it out loud. Leave it to Derek to be paranoid. What good would turning cars into humans do? How could that possibly leave Derek weak? Her driver could run on all fours faster than a human on a bicycle. He probably wasn't all that inconvenienced by Cam's sudden two-legged-ness. Stiles on the other hand… maybe.

"There could be other motives," defended Derek. Cam let the subject drop. She played with the ends of her sleeves, again so that her fingers poked out of the holes and she could brush her hair behind her ears. She'd had the chance to look at herself, earlier, in the mirror of Derek's bathroom.

By human standards, she was pretty, she supposed—if one was attracted to organic material. Her hair was a dark brown that fell in waves past her shoulders. She tried running a comb through it but there was too much hair to get through and Derek only had a small black hair comb. She had to leave it in uneven tangles, and for some reason that bothered her. As a car, she was slick, smooth and beautiful. Pristine. As a human, she felt less so. She was petite and her eyes were too brown—too wide.

She'd watched Erica transform from her pale, tangled former self into that of a colorful werewolf. She knew firsthand that women painted their faces to look beautiful. Hell, she had makeup mirrors installed under her sun visors for that purpose exactly. She wondered if she could do that—if she could make herself look beautiful again. After all, who knew how long she was going to be stuck in this sticky, breathing body.

Soon Stiles' house came into view and Derek pulled up to the curb in front and put the car into park.

"Wait here," he said quickly. Before he even gave Cam a chance to respond, he was out the door and half-jogging toward the front door of the Stilinski house. Cam folded her arms across her chest and blew a stray strand of hair away from her face in frustration. She was fully capable of going with him.

What was his deal? He was micromanaging everything. Cam had half a mind to go after him. After all, Derek was just standing awkwardly outside the front door. Cam almost thought he would go around to the back and scale the wall. He'd done it, before.

A half a minute later, the front door opened and Stiles stepped outside, holding the hand of a young woman in a hoodie and oversized jeans. Her hair was cropped short and a dirty blond, but Cam sat too far away to see the color of her eyes. Not that it mattered, of course. Cam knew who she was: the Jeep.

Suddenly, the Jeep's eyes widened and her face went slack. She immediately huddled herself behind Stiles, who placed a protective arm around her. Derek stole a glance behind him, his eyes meeting briefly with Cam's. She gave him an indignant look that said, It wasn't me.

The Jeep leaned forward and whispered something into Stiles' ear and Stiles almost laughed, but then he stopped himself. Instead, he held onto his Jeep's shoulders and rubbed her back, steering her gently toward the car. The entire time she looked increasingly uncomfortable while Stiles' mouth moved in a soothing fashion. Derek looked more pissed off than usual.

When they got to the car, Stiles and his Jeep climbed into the backseat where she huddled herself against Stiles like he was a lifeline. Cam wasted no time in turning around in the front seat and barking out, "What's her problem?"

Stiles gave her a dirty look. "You must be the Camaro. I'm not sure what I expected."

Cam opened her mouth to snap back at him, but Derek chose that time to get into the car. "No fighting you two. This is weird enough already."

"Oh, like going to IHOP is going to make this any less normal," Stiles muttered.

"Shut up, Stiles," said Derek. He snapped his head toward Cam, who was still facing the rear of the vehicle. "Seat belt, Cam."

"You're not wearing one."

"I can heal. You can't."

Cam scowled and put on her seatbelt. There was an audible snicker from the backseat.

"Cam? Seriously?"

Cam ignored Stiles in favor of glaring at Derek. "Can I punch him?"

Derek didn't bother hiding his ghost of a smile. "You'll learn to restrain yourself."


Once Stiles and Betty got over the initial shock of their situation, they seemed to fit together very well. So well, in fact, that Stiles became more like a doting big brother even though he was clearly younger than her. She wasn't physically seventeen years old like him, but she did wonder briefly if cars aged differently. Was there such a thing as car years like there were dog years? When Betty looked at herself in the mirror for the first time, she had to gauge herself at about twenty, which was awesome. She generally felt a little older than that at times, especially when Stiles was having a particularly adolescent day. Perhaps Stiles kept her young.

"So," Stiles had said, after he showed her the basics of the shower. He acted as though he found anthropomorphic vehicles in his garage every day. It was actually quite nice on Betty's shiny new nervous system. "Now you're all squeaky clean and fresh! How do you feel?"

Betty just smiled at Stiles and gave him a thumbs-up. She'd been communicating with him nonverbally since she woke up. It wasn't that she thought speech was hard—it's just that she wanted to try speaking on her own, maybe when Stiles wasn't around to hear. It was embarrassing, trying to figure out speech for the first time. She'd hummed a little to herself in the shower to get a feel for her vocal chords, but the acoustics of the bathroom seemed to magnify everything and it left her more tongue-tied than before.

"You can wear some of my old stuff. I've been meaning to give these to Goodwill, but, you know, lazy. Sudden growth spurts are awesome," Stiles said, handing her a pile of clothes. He'd probably intended to just leave her alone in the bathroom to fend for herself, but after she squeaked a little from putting the hoodie on the wrong way, Stiles took a deep breath and helped her dress.

For Betty, this wasn't any different than Stiles giving her a car wash, or giving her a fresh coat of wax. She gave Stiles free reign, never once assuming he felt awkward for human indecency. Humans weren't born with clothes on, were they?

Once she'd been fully clothed, Stiles helped her from the bathroom to the living room. She was still a little wobbly on her legs, but she'd gotten the hang of it.

"Okay," said Stiles, sizing her up. "If you're going to be human for a while, we're going to have to get you humanized—especially if Derek's going to be here in a little bit to take us out for pancakes. You ready?"

Betty nodded.

"Sweet. First thing's first," he said. He let go of her arm and she nearly lost her balance. She shot him a look of betrayal, but Stiles only shook his head. The devil. "You need to walk on your own. I know you had some sweet tires before, but feet aren't all that bad." He backed up a little and held out his arms. "Walk to me."

Betty stared hard down at her feet and willed them to move. Her center of gravity had changed drastically, but after holding onto every grip possible in the shower, it gave her a chance to get used to the change. She held her arms out to keep her balance and only fell once she was close enough to Stiles' arms.

"There! That wasn't so bad!" Stiles ruffled her hair. "You're like a big kid. This is so awesome. What else can you do?"

Betty pulled back from his grasp and gave him a foul look that clearly said, don't patronize me. Stiles grinned widely at her. Betty warded off his incoming mockery by wobbling over to the other side of the room and giving him the finger. She knew that sign by heart thanks to Stiles' wonderful road rage.

And yet, she couldn't stay mad at him. Stiles was all she had. He was her best friend and she trusted him. He hadn't steered her wrong, literally, and she knew he could keep up the responsibility.

So when Derek knocked on the door and Stiles started to get nervous about it, Betty reached out her hand to grasp Stiles by the wrist to let him know everything was okay. He shifted his arm so that they were holding hands and in that moment Betty knew Stiles would get her out of this mess. He tugged her toward the door where Derek was waiting and-

-and Betty froze.

Waiting for her was Derek, of course, but also a very, very familiar car. Betty had only been in one car accident that involved another vehicle (not counting the time Stiles purposely crashed her into a warehouse wall, but they didn't talk about that—especially since she had a wonderful, illuminating view of Jackson's everything. They really didn't talk about that night). Once a car hit another car, they never forgot it—and Peter Hale's car was definitely something Betty would have liked to forget.

It had just been a fender-bender. Stiles was trying to save Scott's mom. Betty understood that. The violation of crashing into another car just left ugly scars all over her, even if Stiles spent good money to have the scratches removed. She clung hard to Stiles out of instinct.

"I can't," she said desperately, trying to keep her voice quiet because Derek was staring harshly at her.

It was the first time she'd said anything and Stiles gave her a wide-eyed look. She knew he wanted her to speak more, but she couldn't do it. She was surprised she'd even made it that far. Would he put two and two together? Would he remember?

He probably didn't, because he did his best to calm her fears and shove her into the car anyway. Almost immediately, Betty lost her appetite.

She didn't say anything the entire way to the restaurant. She didn't need to, apparently. Cam and Stiles were too busy learning everything there was to know about getting on each other's nerves.

Cam turned out to be everything Betty thought she would be. She was beautiful and arrogant and snarky and demanded to be heard. She had the exact intimidating presence that she held in the parking lot of that shady store. Derek grumbled as he drove and radiated an aura of hostility and Stiles' grip on her hand in the backseat was so strong it was borderline painful.

Betty wanted out of there.

In fact, the minute Derek pulled up to the restaurant, Betty unbuckled her restraining seatbelt faster than was absolutely necessary. She was a bit dizzy, probably from the dreaded combination of confusion, anger, fear and hunger. She needed a lot of things and none of them were happening. The least she could do was get out of the car and get herself some fresh air.

Stiles scrambled out after her and chased her to the front doors of the building.

"You okay?" he asked, out of breath, even for the short distance.

Cam took a deep breath and shook her head. She hugged her arms around herself, grateful for the warmth the hoodie gave her. She looked beyond Stiles to the car that would no doubt continue to haunt her for a while just as Cam stepped out of the passenger seat.

It was like the world slowed down for a moment. Her long, dark brown hair caught in the wind. Betty had seen girls step out of cars before and toss their hair like the world was watching. Cam did exactly that. Betty felt like she was doing exactly what the world wanted her to do, and she looked away immediately. The ceramic wolf pendant that stuck around her neck warmed a little on her bare skin under her clothes. She tried to concentrate on that, instead of Cam. Soon they would be back to normal and she'd never have to actually speak to her.

Once they were inside, they were seated quickly. Derek had been right to suggest a pancake house for their meeting place. It was still early morning and many of the patrons looked just as disheveled as they did. They blended in just fine.

Betty let Stiles order drinks for her, but only because she'd never experienced ordering food before. It wasn't like she could order Pennzoil and unleaded gasoline.

The waitress disappeared with their drink orders and when she was safely out of earshot, Stiles spoke up first. "So, wow, you guys. CARS."

Betty smiled at her driver, just as amused as he. Both Derek and Cam gave him a bored look, however. Stiles didn't seem fazed by it. She always liked that about her driver.

"It's an easy fix, isn't it?" Stiles asked. "I mean, we just take the necklaces off. No big deal."

Derek shook his head. "It's not that easy. The cord won't cut, and it seems impervious to my claws."

"You've tried, already?"

Cam just shrugged. "It's too small to fit over my head, too."

"What about fire?" Stiles suggested.

Betty's eyes widened. Derek shot Stiles a bad look and Cam answered just as casually as ever. "Do you want to risk it?"

Betty thought about how close a flame would have to come to her neck in order to burn off the pendant and shuddered. There had to be another way.

"Hey," Cam said suddenly, nodding from the other end of the table. She was seated across from Betty and they were both pressed against the wall of the booth by their driver's who were seated on the outside. "You have any good suggestions?"

Betty shook her head.

"Can't talk?"

Betty shrugged.

Cam rolled her eyes. "Should have guessed, coming from a Jeep."

Betty opened her mouth to say something, but Stiles beat her to it. "Hey! That's my Jeep you're talking about!"

Cam didn't keep her eyes off Betty for an instant, and Betty wanted nothing more than to sink into the booth and disappear. She felt so big compared to the dark, tiny form of Cam. Actually, Betty felt big compared to most cars, anyway, but as a human it didn't seem to be beneficial.

"What's her name, anyway?" asked Cam. She was looking at Betty but clearly talking to Stiles.

"Betty," Stiles said with an air of pride in his voice. "It sure beats Cam."

"Stiles," Derek interrupted. "You do realize you're fighting with a car."

"For all intents and purposes, I'm human right now," Cam offered.

"I think I liked her better as a car," Stiles grumbled.

"Stiles!" Derek looked around him briefly before nodding toward the exit. "A word?"

Stiles' mouth was open in general annoyance and he closed it with a sigh. "Fine," he breathed, shuffling himself out of the booth. He let Betty know he'd be right back with a friendly but mostly apologetic pat on her shoulder and left with Derek outside. Betty watched them go and even watched them fight animatedly outside, with Stiles arms flying everywhere like an octopus.

He'd abandoned her with the Camaro.

A waitress came by with their drinks. Stiles had ordered Betty a hot chocolate and a water. She took a hold of the mug but quickly let go when the ceramic nearly burned her fingers. She was gentler the next time, and sipped the dark liquid slowly. She could feel the chocolate move down her throat and coat her insides and without realizing it, she smiled.

"You don't seem to be taking the change very well," Cam observed. Betty didn't want to have to look at her, so she didn't. She kept her gaze on the swirling chocolate in her mug.

When Betty didn't answer her for a long time, Cam let out an impatient sigh. "Look, what was your name? Betty? I don't like this any more than you do, but I'm trying to make the most of it. I've had enough of Derek moping to last me the life of my transmission. I can't stand moping."

Betty finally stole a look upward at Cam. She was nursing her water and staring intently at Betty as if there was some strange mark on her face. Betty narrowed her eyes at Cam. "I…"

"She speaks!"

"I…" Betty tried again. "I hate you."

The smile that broke out across Cam's face was unsettling. "The feeling is mutual, Jeepy. Glad we got that out of the way. The bottom line is that you and I are going to have to work together to get out of this mess. Are you willing to do that, at least?"

Betty hesitated a little. Couldn't Stiles and Derek just figure it all out and relay the information to her? Why did she even have to deal with this attention whore at all? Still, Betty preferred to have some semblance of camaraderie rather than total hatred, so she nodded in agreement.

"Great," Cam said. "I'm so glad we could settle this better than our boys." She nodded her head toward the windows where Derek practically had Stiles in a chokehold and Stiles was surrendering, both hands in the air. A surge of over protectiveness washed over Betty. She wished she could turn back into a Jeep at will and hit Derek with her car door for treating Stiles like that.

"I know that look," Cam said warily. She kicked her foot forward under the table and it nudged Betty in the shin, causing her head to snap back to Cam quickly. "Don't even think about hurting Derek."

Betty took a deep breath. She'd gotten talking down, but she still had to think about her words to make sure they would be okay once she started saying them. "Then stop hurting my Stiles."

"Fine."

"Fine."

By the time Derek and Stiles came back inside, the waitress had come by twice asking Cam and Betty if they were ready to order. She must have been watching the table like a hawk because once Derek and Stiles came back, she was there, pen in hand and ready to write down their choices.

After the waitress disappeared, Derek began giving Stiles some very obvious eye gestures and Stiles sulked a little, but he responded with a somewhat sincere apology to Cam. Betty hated how smug Cam looked about it and thought about kicking her from under the table, but thought the better of it.

"Did you two come up with anything other than an apology while you were out there?" Cam teased.

Stiles turned a lovely shade of red that Betty didn't miss at all, and Derek quickly answered the question. "We're going to have to look into the matter more."

"As in research," Stiles added. "We're going to go back to that store and see what that guy knows about these things… and I'm going to do some research about symbols and probably ask Allison if she might know something."

"I will talk to Deaton," Derek suggested, his voice low. "But until then, we need to make you two look more… human."

"How much more human do we need to look?" Cam frowned. "I'm more human than you are."

"Clothes," Stiles chirped.

Cam's features seemed to brighten and that actually caught Betty off guard a little bit. For a split second, Cam looked so much less threatening—almost to the point that she was attractive. Betty thought that maybe, even for a little bit, they could be friends if only she looked like that instead of like she was thinking of all the ways she'd rather not be where she was. "And makeup?" Cam asked, her smile widening.

"Sure…" Stiles said slowly. "I guess? I'll probably just… let you two hang with Lydia. That's not really my um… area."

Lydia. She was one of the few girls that had actually had the chance to ride in Betty. Betty liked Lydia, even if she was the source of a lot of angst-filled teenage nights with Stiles. Betty felt she knew more about Lydia than even Lydia knew about Lydia. She was actually looking forward to meeting her as a human. What would she think? Maybe Betty could talk some sense into her—show her that Stiles was a good guy and that she should think about taking him away from Derek. Clearly, the boy's change from Lydia to Derek had been destructive in the sense that it gave Betty blond hair and blue eyes. Life just had to be like that.

Once their food arrived, Betty sat back and let the others do all the talking. She was more focused on the food, anyway. Being away from Peter's car had caused her appetite to return and she found she was rather looking forward to eating. Stiles had ordered her a short stack of buttermilk pancakes, eggs, bacon and hashbrowns. It looked like the most generic thing on the menu, but for her, it was fantastic. Having only had the same kind of petrol her entire life, using her mouth to try a myriad of foods was a sensation and flavor overload.

She poured every kind of syrup imaginable on her pancakes, delighting in the way the purple and red colors swirled together. The crisp, salty taste of bacon contrasted with the toned down and mellow flavor of the eggs, but together everything fit like a puzzle she hadn't realized she'd been building. Slowly, the queasy feeling in her stomach left altogether and the general feeling of uneasiness she'd been harboring began to melt away as well. She felt like when she had an oil change and every pulley, gear and belt under her hood just seemed to work better even though they hadn't been touched.

Confidence poured into her being and soon she began swinging her legs under the table of the booth and humming to herself as she ate. She smiled more. She began paying attention to the conversation, but she'd missed the bulk of it.

"Hey," she said suddenly. Three sets of eyes turned toward her, all amazed to hear her speak so clearly. She found she rather enjoyed the attention. "What are we doing after this, exactly?"

"We're splitting up," Stiles explained. "You and I are going home for research. Derek and Cam are going to Doctor Deaton to see if he's got anything on magic talismans."

"No, I mean, where are we staying?" Betty reiterated. Really, she needed to think her words through. How did Cam just blurt out words and get her point across so easily?

"Oh…" Stiles trailed off and glanced over at Derek. "She can't stay with me… my dad, you know…"

Derek gave Stiles a very pointed look. "My place is too small. I can't have two girls—"

"Oh, nice to know we're such a burden on you. You never had a problem with me, before." Cam rolled her eyes. Betty couldn't help but second the sentiment.

"Look, we'll just… we'll get you a hotel room, okay? Until we can get this all figured out. That way no one gets suspicious." Stiles threw his hands up in the air at the suggestion. The minute he said it, though, he agreed with himself with a firm nod of his head. "Yeah, a hotel room! It's not like you can sleep in the garage or anything, and this way there can no more awkward… naked… things… happening."

Derek nodded a bit as he chewed his food, like he hadn't expected such a good idea to come from Stiles. "There's a motel right by my apartment. I'll see if there's a vacancy."

"A seedy motel?" Cam frowned. She'd seen those before, with old beat up pickups sitting out front. She preferred the four star hotels with gated parking. "I'm glad you think so highly of us."

"It's not seedy," Derek defended.

"It's either a hotel with an actual lobby or your couch. You choose."

Stiles began to snicker and Betty couldn't help herself. She tried to cover her own giggling up with a mouthful of pancakes just to avoid getting any backlash. "Wow, Derek, that's some car you've got there."

Cam actually seemed to take Stiles' comment as a compliment because she built off it. "He's right, you know. I'm a custom model. Don't I deserve a better hotel room?"

Derek clenched his fist so hard, he must have forgotten he was holding a fork because it snapped. Betty jumped in her seat with a little squeak and Cam simply raised her eyebrows at her driver.

"I take it back," Stiles grinned. "This is the best thing to happen, ever. Derek, you get the hotel room. I'll get the check."

Betty took a chance to look up at Cam who was grinning wildly at Betty. Something tugged in Betty's lower gut and she found her face growing hot, but wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she could turn on a sensor saying her radiator was getting too hot. Humans didn't come with manuals. She'd have to file the feeling away for later to ask Stiles when they were alone.

It was going to be a long day.