Introduction to Your Destruction

By: Beccatdemon13

©2011

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone except for Isabelle Felicity Teller, Annemarie Lenora Winston, and Marco 'Cougar' Vellenueva as well as anyone you don't immediately recognize. Please don't sue. You'd only be getting a hell of a lot of textbooks. What? Don't look at me like that College isn't a paying gig you know. But god I wish it was. Beccatdemon13 now will go off to fantasize about the lack of tuition payments that being paid would bring. Oh, right, the story! On we go…

Synopsis: Charming was a nowhere town, the streets are paved with intentions...dark, violent intentions. Thanks to the Sons of Anarchy, a club that I'm genetically linked to. It's a simple truth; really, you can never escape your family.

Chapter One: Heat of the Moment

"Most of us were not violent by nature. We all had our problems with authority but none of us were sociopaths. We came to realize when you live outside the social grid; you give up the safety that society provides. On the fringe, blood and bullets are the rule of law and if you're a man with convictions, violence is inevitable." The Life and Death of Sam Crow: How The Sons Of Anarchy Lost Their Way by John Thomas Teller

Present Day (Circa 2008) Outsider Point of View

It was warm and sunny basically an average day in the small town of Charming, California. Main Street was alive and thriving, with all of the homegrown Mom-and-Pop shops seeing their normal clientele. The doors to those aforementioned businesses were propped open to allow the occasional breeze inside, as well as call greeting to the people just walking in the street.

Two girls were walking down the street arm-in-arm, grinning and carefree looking. One girl was statuesque with creamy skin and deep chocolate brown hair; oversized sunglasses hid her clear emerald eyes, perched on a ski-sloped nose. She wore dark-washed straight-legged jeans and a simple black tank top. Her knee high boots click-clacked on the pavement as she walked by. The girl's name was Anna Winston and she was twenty-four years old.

Wherever Anna Winston was Isabelle Teller was sure to follow. Isabelle, Izzy for short was smaller in height, barely clearing the five-foot mark, she too was twenty-four years old. Her golden blonde hair was up in a messy bun, a few stubborn pieces had escaped framing her heart shaped face. Like her friend, she too wore knee high leather boots. She also wore light blue jeans, which hugged and enhanced her curves. The girl also wore a scoop neck black top that highlighted her porcelain skin tone.

As Anna and Izzy walked down the street, their laughter loud echoed in the peaceful afternoon. At least that was the only thing people could hear until the deafening, distinctive roar of a pack of motorcycles came down the street.

"Hey girls!" The bikers called.

The girls smiled and waved, flipping off one of the bikers who catcalled.

Those bikers were the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original, otherwise known as SAMCO, or its personified title: Sam Crow, the founding charter. At first they were just a motorcycle club, going on the occasional ride all together. It had quickly expanded to twenty-eight other charters in the United States alone. There were also charters in England, Canada, Germany, and Ireland. John Teller and Piermont 'Piney' Winston were the founding members. They along with nine other 'original' members made up the first Charter.

The Sons had gotten their start when John Teller, and the rest of his unit had come back from the Vietnam War. When John had come home, he and his two closest friends felt shunned by the very people they had tried to protect. The war was far from popular and the general public felt no shame about taking out their frustrations on the returning soldiers and their families. John was out-of-sorts and had a hard time readjusting to the norms of society, so he looked for other possibilities, which he found within the MC world.

As the club grew ground and support the club morphed from a friendly place for friends to a family of outlaw motorcyclists otherwise known as OMC. The Sons of Anarchy weren't your average outlaws, though. They had morals: they refused to sell any drugs and they treated women with respect (mostly). The Sons of Anarchy vest or a cut consisted of a grim reaper wielding a M-16 with a bloody scythe blade and holding a crystal ball with the anarchy 'A'. Directly under that patch the chapter patch saying where the particular club was based. On the front of the vest there were other patches members wore. On the left side there was a patch that said Redwood Original. Then there were others like 'the first nine' for the nine original members, the ranking patches (president, vice president, and the like), and the final one was 'men of mayhem' worn by those who had spilled blood for the club. Nearly all of the Nomads had one. They a charter that had no fixed location, they were some of the toughest people Sam Crow had in their corner, ready to go where ever they were needed, whenever.

The Sons didn't start out in one specific place that was how Redwood Original part of SAMCRO happened. It was actually because of John's wife, Gemma that the Sons settled down. When Gemma had gotten pregnant, she wanted to settle down, Charming was her hometown. It was something familiar so it made sense that it was where the Sons would plant their roots. The Sons of Anarchy ruled over the small town, an easy thing to do with the police in their pocket. They kept out big business: the closest Wal-Mart and Starbucks were twenty minutes away. There was no fast food, no supermarket chains, or anything like that. Any and all stores in Charming were Mom and Pop stores. The owners of said stores appreciated the SOA's effort to keep out the big businesses. They knew without the Sons keeping the companies at bay, they'd be out of a job. It was seen in other towns, a Wal-Mart's built and suddenly all the little businesses shut down like wildfire. Nothing happened here that the Sons didn't know about or didn't control.

Neither Anna nor Izzy had an easy life. Both had experienced loss early in life. Anna's mother had abandoned her and her older brother and father. While Izzy had lost her twin brother. Thomas Wayne Teller was born ten minutes before her on January 8, 1984. Izzy owed Tommy a lot; he had saved her from the family flaw. It was passed down from Mom to Tommy. Maybe it was because Tommy and Izzy shared her womb that he had saved her from a more severe case of CHD, or Congenital heart defect. Because of that, when they were born, Tommy was really sick. He was constantly in and out of the hospital until his death in 1990. They were only six.

Izzy wasn't the only offspring of John and Gemma. Jackson Teller or Jax, as he preferred to be called, was born on March 21, 1978. He had dark blonde hair that hung around his neck. Jax was about six foot one, towering over Izzy's much smaller frame. Jax's best friend happened to be Anna's older brother, Opie. Harry 'Opie' Winston was six foot four, with dark brown hair and green eyes.

Izzy's Point of View

After Tommy had died, things had changed. Both Mom and Dad were really depressed, we all were. I had lost part of myself and it was just so difficult. I don't remember much but I do remember how much Dad had changed. Suddenly he was withdrawn and cautious. The father that use to come booming into the house, with a laugh that could shake the foundations was gone, leaving this shell of a man. A man who could barely take care of himself let alone the rest of the family and the club.

Within my ten years of life I had already lost so much. Almost all of the original nine were dead, those men and their families were my family. We got together on holidays, we looked out for one another, and when they were gone it was just weird. I had lost my twin brother, a loss that I never really got over. And, then, in 1993, my father was hit by a semi and dragged one hundred feet. The problem was my father hadn't died on impact or when the truck dragged him. Nope, he died three days later from his injuries in the hospital.

When Dad had died, everything really had changed. The national president of the Sons of Anarchy was dead; charters from around the world came to pay their respects. I had never seen Charming so packed with bikers in my life. The clubhouse was full of the other charters and everyone was lending out their homes for the members who weren't apart of Redwood. The other charters were around when Clay Morrow, the youngest of the original nine, was voted in to be president.

Clay Morrow was my father's best friend and my godfather; he wasn't just the person who replaced my father in the club. As of 1994, he became my stepfather. When Dad died, Clay had stepped up in a big way, watching out for my mom, brother, and I. It was never weird to see him around the house before Dad's death but after he was there nearly every day.

The way the club made money was by selling ammunitions, under the radar, which was where the majority of their money came from. It wasn't the only revenue stream, however, they had one of two legal businesses. The first was an automotive shop affectionately called TM stood for Teller-Morrow Automotive. TM gave a job (and alibi) to every patched member of the Charming Chapter. The second legal business was a diner. The Crow was a simple diner, one of only five restaurants within Charming's borders. But it was one of the more successful ones thanks to Anna and I.

Anna and I were walking around on our break, knowing that if anything went wrong, we'd be close enough to handle it. Almost like clockwork the glass door to the diner flew open and one of the waitresses stormed outside. Janice Donovan was one of our best waitresses, she was a recent hire but she caught on quick. Her fake blonde hair caught the sunlight reflecting off the pink streaks she had added recently. Janice's cute face was pinched in annoyance as she scanned the street, when she caught sight of Anna and I she shouted, "I can't take it anymore!"

"Can you be anymore dramatic, Janice?" Anna huffed in irritation.

"That bitch is stupid," Janice responded. "Why'd you even give her a job here?"

"Get back inside," I ordered sharply.

Janice grumbled something under her breath before she walked back into the diner with us on her heels.

"Now what happened?" Anna asked eyeing Janice and our new girl, Amanda suspiciously.

"Punky McGoth is being a bitch," Amanda murmured.

"Oh, wow, look at that, a complete sentence," Janice mocked. "You must be so proud."

"I swear to god, I'll knock your fucking teeth in," Amanda threatened.

"You mean that you'll cheer me to death?" Janice smirked. "Be aggressive. B-E Aggressive!"

Amanda didn't say anything instead she shoved Janice backwards, a fierce glare adorning her normally sweet face. I coughed to mask my snort of amusement because that seemed exactly what Anna or I would say to the cheerleaders when we were in high school. I always liked Janice, she was smart and wasn't afraid of the Sam Crow crowd. Amanda, on the other hand, was a complete surprise when the brunette co-captain of the Charming cheerleaders walked in asking for a job.

"Hey," Anna snapped. "You two shut the fuck up. Get back to work."

The girls looked at Anna wide-eyed and I smirked. Out of the two of us, Anna was the scarier one, at least to the girls. Anna was never one to suffer fools and she sure as hell didn't put up with petty high school bullshit. Which was probably why Amanda and Janice were fighting, separate cliques created friction. However, we had warned both of them that if either of that friction bled into the diner one of two would be tossed out on her ass. Although, it would most likely be Amanda who would get tossed out, she was the newer of the two, after all.

The Diner always had certain times of the day. One of the busiest times was just around lunchtime. It was normally completely packed and just a little insane. At the most there were always four waitresses on the floor. Trying to keep things running smoothly at all times.

"Tori, get the lead out!" Anna groaned.

"Give me five seconds, Annie," Tori groused. "Kat, I need that salad."

Victoria 'Tori' Moran was another kid of the original nine. Tori was born a year after Opie and Jax. She had red hair and dark blue eyes. Tori was Otto Moran's only kid. Her dad was more likely to be recognized by his nickname of 'Lil Killer.' Katherine "Kat" Maynard was Louis' daughter and another daughter of the original nine. She had graduated the year before I did. She had light brown hair and fluorescent green eyes. She was tall, standing at five foot eight.

"Order up!" Tori called.

Janice swooped in carrying two bowls of pasta and a side order of salad to one of the booths in the back. As if we weren't busy enough, the back phone began to ring. With a sigh, I ran to the office, kicking the door shut behind me as I picked up the phone.

"The Crow diner, Izzy speaking, how may I help you?"

"Baby,"

"Hi, Ma," I smiled softly. "What's up? We're in the middle of lunch rush."

"You think you can put in the boys orders?" Ma asked.

"Of course," I replied. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, Iz, have you heard from Wendy?"

"That bitch hates me," I responded, laughing. "So, that would be a no. Why? What'd that cumrag do now?"

"She hasn't been answering her phones."

"Who gives a shit?" I growled.

"She's pregnant with your nephew," Ma snapped.

"Yeah," I frowned before changing the topic. "I'll bring the food by as soon as I can."

"Thanks, baby," Ma responded.

We both hung up and I pulled open the door to the office, walking back behind the counter.

"Girls, Sam Crow placed their usual order," I shouted. "Need it on the double. And someone ordered the salad of the day again."

"You got it, Izzy," Kat responded.

"Order up!" Tori called, shoving Kat out of the way, filling the window with plates.

Janice and Amanda came by grabbing the aforementioned dishes and placing them in front of the customers. The diner continued in that vein until finally people began to leave, without more people taking their place. For such a small town, it sometimes didn't feel that way. When it was calm enough for someone to be able to get away, I grabbed the bags filled with Styrofoam take-out containers. Everyone's names were scrawled on the top of each lid.

Ever since the diner had open, TM had placed an order almost religiously. They always ordered the same thing so we knew who got what. It made for a very easy system. It was a quick drive from the diner over to the shop and I eventually slid my car into the spot besides my mother's Cadillac.

"Food's here, boys!" I shouted once I got out of Mustang.

Like the boys motorcycles, my mustang was my baby. It was custom made with a body kit, nearly touching the ground, making it look even faster than it had looked before. It was a cheerful fiery orange color and had Lamborghini style doors. Part of it was a graduation present, but Juice and I had made a few changes, leading to a kick-ass stereo system and all the other changes.

"Thanks, Izzy," Juice grinned, taking one of the two bags from my hands.

Jean Carlos Ortiz, or Juice as most people called him was one of the newer members of the SOA. He had black hair that was shaved into a short Mohawk. There were two tribal style lightening bolt tattoos on either side of his head. He was about five ten and one of the smartest people I knew. At least when it came to anything technological. He was a very skilled hacker and normally watched over the extensive security cameras that were all over the auto shop and the clubhouse. Making sure that wouldn't be any surprises that might sneak up on them. Like random police or other MC visits.

"Hope you boys didn't have to wait too long," I grimaced. "The diner was swamped."

"People minding their manners?" Juice asked. A gleam of promised retribution if the people had been less than cordial to any of us.

"Of course," I smirked. "No one has the balls not to be."

Juice smirked as we walked into clubhouse. It was still early in the day so there were no hang-arounds yet but they'd be there soon. I laid some of the Styrofoam containers on the bar counter. I looked around and saw that the clubhouse was filthy. Rolling my eyes I grabbed a trash bag from the cabinets under the kitchen sink and began to toss in garbage and the like. As I moved I caught a glimpse of the dark blue Anarchy symbol tattooed on my wrist, all the daughters of the original nine had one. It was our way of showing who we were, since we couldn't ever be Sons. Another way was the Crow tattoo. But that was a privilege reserved for the old ladies, a term that members called their wives or steady girlfriends, if you were an old lady you were allowed to get a crow tattoo. In a way it showed that you belonged to the SOA. The tattoo showed possession along with protection. Both Tori and Kat had the Crow. Most members had a lot of tattoos either of the reaper from the cut, or some variation there of. Basically if the tattoo related to the Sons in any way, a member had it.

"Hey," I patted Juice on the shoulder as I caught something on one of the security cameras. "Who's the kid?"

"Our newest prospect," Juice responded. "Chibs' found him."

Filip 'Chibs' Telford was different from all the other members because he's Scottish, and was once a member of the True IRA, the organization that supplied us with guns. He had been kicked out of Northern Ireland, for what, I didn't know. The nickname of Chibs came from his facial scars. Known to most as a Glasgow grin, meaning someone had cut open his face, making his smile even wider. The cuts had long since healed but everyone knew what they were. He had been called Chibs ever since. He was around six foot with deep blue eyes and brown hair.

"Where?" I asked.

"No idea."

I watched the feed from the cameras and watched the messy-haired strawberry blonde head of the newest prospect running towards the clubhouse. Seconds later he ran through the front door and glanced around.

"What's wrong, Half-sack?" Juice asked.

"Just hungry," The kid shrugged. "Clay let me go on break."

"Half-sack?" I questioned.

"I got my left nut blown off in Iraq," Half-sack explained. Before I could respond he had unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants and boxers down. True to his word, he was missing a ball.

"Dude," Juice started. "You shouldn't-"

"What the fuck, prospect?" Jax interrupted.

"Uh…Jax…I," Half-sack stuttered.

"Pull your pants up, you idiot," Jax snapped.

"Jax, don't scare 'im," I rolled my eyes before turning towards the prospect. "You got a real name?"

"Kip Epps," Half-sack replied. "And you are?"

"Isabelle Teller," I smiled.

Half-sack's eyes widened in shock as he took a cautious step back before looking at Jax and Juice, looking for a hint.

"I'm his sister," I filled in the blanks, worried that he thought that I was Jax's old lady or something.

"My baby sister," Jax added with a glare. He then turned the aforementioned look on me when I smacked his shoulder.

"Oh," Half-sack nodded, looking even more nervous. Poor kid. "I can see the resemblance."

I rolled my eyes with a smirk as Jax moved in front of me. I hadn't been around TM in about a week so that must've been when Half-sack had been voted into prospect status. I tried to see whether or not I remembered seeing him around prior to that but nothing came to mind. Normally there were male hang-arounds, getting to know the members and then they were prospects, then they were either patched in or let go.

"Get back to work," Jax ordered.

"Here you go, Half-sack," I said offering one of the unclaimed take out boxes to him. His appearance explained why there had been more boxes lately. He grabbed the box with a smile before he turn on his heel and walked out of the clubhouse. Juice grabbed his own and then followed after the prospect, leaving Jax and I alone.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Jax shrugged. "Everything's fine. What about you? You look tired."

"I'm fine, Jackson," I replied. "You know you didn't have to scare the crap out of the prospect."

"Izzy," Jax rolled his eyes. His voice dropping a pitch, a warning, "gotta teach the new kid his place."

"Whatever you say," I mumbled. "Where's Ma?"

"The office," Jax stated.

"Okay, I'm gonna go say hi, then I gotta go back to the diner," I announced.

"I'll see you later," Jax mumbled, kissing me on the forehead. "Be careful, Darlin'."

"You know it," I grinned.

I walked out of the office, crossing the lot with Ma's food as I slid into the main office. Both doors to the office were open, making it nosy because one of the doors led straight to the garage. I waved at some of the guys who smiled and waved at me.

"Hi, Ma," I greeted, kissing her on the cheek. "How are you?"

"Fine, baby," Ma replied with a tired smile. "Somehow I've fallen behind on invoices."

"You need help?" I asked.

"I'm fine," Ma returned. "How are you? I caught Amanda and Janice bickering on the street again."

"For fucks sake," I grumbled. "I really am questioning why Anna and I ever bothered hiring her. She and Janice have clashed from day one."

"Petty high school bullshit," Ma shrugged. "I'm sure you still remember."

"Yeah," I shuddered. "Fun times."

Mom gave a knowing smirk as she grabbed the take out box from my hand. It was her usual order of grilled chicken Caesar salad, heavy on the tomatoes. We talked for a few more minutes before I decided that I had been gone from the diner for long enough. I was on my way back to my car when a hand snaked out, grabbing my wrist before leading me around the side of the garage. One of the few places that didn't have a security camera near it.

"Bella." Warm chocolate brown eyes pierced my own as the person in question pressed me against the brick, his body hot and hard against mine.

"Marco." I smiled

Marco Vellenueva, the only boy of Chico Vellenueva, the third founder of the Sons of Anarchy. The first three families had grown up together. It was always Anna, Marco, and I at least until high school had ended. Anna and I had stayed behind and opened the diner, Marco wanted to serve. He had done exactly what he wanted to going into the army and rising through the ranks, just like his father before him. He was one of the best snipers in his unit. It was insane how accurate he was with a sniper rifle. Cougar was a nickname that had come from that experience and it had stuck when he had been discharged a little over a year ago. He had gotten hurt in Afghanistan and sent home. When Marco came home, he felt so guilty about what had happened. How he was home and the rest of his unit, his brothers were still in the line of fire. He was hurt, bad. His leg was all fucked up and it took a lot of physical therapy to get it back to where it would function normally again. Once the doctors cleared him, Marco threw himself into the SOA, becoming a prospect, his year was almost up.

Marco and my relationship had once been purely platonic but when he had come back from overseas something had changed. He had changed. He never liked to talk about what happened in Afghanistan but there was no denying that he was different, his once open brown eyes now held a haunting quality to them. A sign that the war was so much worse then anything the news stations were telling us.

When Marco first became a prospect to the club that our relationship changed. It happened at one of the weekly parties the Sons threw. We each had a few too many and the next thing I remember was waking up in bed together the both of us naked. The first few days had been awkward going from friendship to something more. And even though Marco was a founding member's kid himself, I was off limits as the daughter of the founding member, the daughter of the President, and the sister of the Vice President. Still the fact that I was off limits only made things all the more enticing because as much as I was off limits to him I was supposed to stay away from him as well.

"How've you been?" Marco asked.

"Fine," I shrugged. "Did you just get back?"

"Yeah," Marco sighed. "Literally got in a half hour ago."

"Everything okay?" I asked.

Tacoma had recently had a flare up with our main rivals: the Mayans. There had been problems with the rival MC for as long as I had been alive, maybe even longer. Their mother charter was based out of Stockton, California. There had been a lot of blood lost between the two clubs.

I didn't really know details but I knew that the Mayans were pushing in on Tacoma's territory. So, the charter needed bodies so the Nomads had gone up along with a few of our boys, including Marco.

"Everything's fine," Marco shrugged. "They just needed bodies."

"Makes sense," I agreed.

"I missed you," Marco grinned, his voice becoming husky as he moved even closer to me. I tilted my head up in time for his lips to meet mine. One of his hands wrapped itself in my golden locks and the slid down to palm my ass. His tongue slid against my mouth and I willingly deepened the kiss. I had missed him so much. It had almost been a week since I had seen him last.

We would've gone a lot further when there was a sudden crash in the garage followed my a exasperated yell of, "God damn it, Half-sack!"

It startled us out of our little moment and made us realize that we weren't even close to alone. If one of the patched members saw…

"My house later?" I whispered, fixing my hair and clothing. "Finish what we started?" I added with a smirk.

"Definitely," Marco agreed.

I slipped out of our hiding spot first walking around to come out on the other side of the lot. I got into my car and was about to close the door when a hand dropped on my door, halting the movement entirely. I looked up into the green eyes of Tig.

Alexander 'Tig' Trager was an all around good guy or at least he meant well. As the Charming charter's Sergeant at Arms he was completely loyal to my stepfather. He'd follow Clay one hundred percent, no questions asked. Although his loyalty to Sam Crow was quite the asset, he was a twisted in the head. Tig was one of the two of the most violent members of SOA. Tig had tousled brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was also tall maybe around six foot or six one. Most of the time we loved to fight with one another exchanging insults back and forth. He was one of the most entertaining ones to rile up. But, it was a careful line, he wasn't afraid to hit a woman.

"Hi, Tigger," I greeted.

"Where were you?" He asked suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You weren't in the office, the clubhouse, or the garage, but your car's been here," Tig shrugged. "You normally drop the food, chat, then you head back."

"Felt like taking a walk around," I replied with a bit of a bite. "Problem?"

"Not at all," Tig stated.

"Tig!" Chibs shouted. "Clay wants ya!"

"I'll talk to you later, baby doll," Tig replied closing my car door firmly.

I started the car, swinging it in reverse before driving out of the lot. There was a reason Tig was the Sergeant at Arms. He was very perceptive and knew when people were lying to him, most of the time. Of all the members it had to be Tig who got suspicious. I shook my head, grimacing at my bad luck. We just had to sneak around for a few more weeks, then we'd be able to become official.

I pulled into the parking lot in the back of the diner noticing a Harley parked up close to the back door. I recognized the graphics on the bike and smirked as I moved into the diner, letting the backdoor slam shut behind me as I made my way to the front.

"Iz!"

"Damien," I greeted with a smile.

Damien was the only son of Thomas Whitney, better known to Sam Crow as Uncle Tom; he was the second youngest of the original nine; he had been in Clay's division in the air force. It had been Clay who had brought Tom to Charming and into the Sons of Anarchy. Tom and his wife, Michelle had one son, Damien. He was tall, almost Marco's height with silver eyes and dark brown hair. Unlike Marco, Damien didn't wait, he had jumped right into being a prospect, only a week after we had all graduated. That was why Damien was currently a fully patched member, while Marco was still a prospect.

There was only one reason why Damien would be in the diner. And though all the families of the first nine were close (at least the ones who were stateside), it wasn't for me or Anna. Nope, Kat had captured his heart years ago, back when we were all still in high school. The day that Damien got his full back patch, the one the younger members had taken to tattooing on themselves was the day that Kat got her crow. She had chosen to get it on the back of her neck, which was normally always on show, since she either cut her hair short enough for people to see it or wore her hair up.

"How're things?" Damien asked as I returned to my normal place behind the counter.

"Surprisingly normal," I grinned. "I think this is the longest we've gone without drama. We should have a days without things going sideways count, or something."

"That would work," Anna scoffed.

"Anna Banana," Damien smirked. "About time you came out of that back room."

"I thought so," Anna laughed, grabbing some plates from the pass and giving them to the older gentlemen sitting at the counter.

"Shouldn't you be heading back to TM?" I asked. "I ran into Marco before I left. Seems like he's the first one back from the excursion."

"I have a better idea," Damien laughed. "Why don't you let Kat out early?"

Anna and I exchanged a glance before I looked back to Damien.

"Come on, you guys," Damien cajoled. "You were gonna shut down early anyway."

"The guy has a point," I smirked.

"Yeah, fine," Anna laughed.

Damien didn't wait for us to tell Kat the news; instead he jogged around the counter and walked straight into the kitchen. Seconds later there was a squeal and a crash before Damien emerged once more, with Kat thrown over one shoulder. She was kicking her legs and punching him in the back, laughing all the while.

"You two be safe-" I teased.

"-And use protection," Anna finished with a cocky grin.

Damien sparred us a small glare as he pushed open the glass door, the bell chiming cheerfully as it shut behind them.

"I'll go help Tori," Anna finally said.

"Okay, I'll run the front," I shrugged.

Things continued to run fairly smoothly as we continued to keep food flowing out of the kitchen. I had to scold Amanda and Janice twice for shoving one another as they moved around the diner but other than that it was a normal day.

"Closing time," I announced a few hours later.

It was more for our benefit then for the few stragglers that remained. Everyone in Charming knew that the diner's hours tended to be erratic on occasion. But, this occasion was more special than normal. Today at around two in the afternoon, Opie Winston had been released from Chino. He had been in prison for five long years on an arson charge. It was a crime that he had committed, however, if he hadn't been abandoned in the truck yard he might not have had to face those charges at all.

"Girls, you can go home," I said. "Anna and I can finish cleaning the tables."

I was over by the counter cleaning it with wide sweeping circles. Suddenly Anna gasped, causing me to swing around. Before I could ask what was going on she had already answered, "Iz, you know that days without drama count?"

"Yeah?" I asked cautiously.

"I think it just went down to zero," Anna winced.

I joined my best friend by the window and saw that normally peaceful dark blue sky was glowing in the distance with oranges, yellows, and reds. Fire. I thought maybe it could be a wildfire, it was California, after all. But when a giant fireball was thrown up into the air I realized that it couldn't possibly be a wildfire.

"Shit," I mumbled.

"Now, that's a fire," Anna whistled. "Jesus."

"There's nothing but warehouses up there," I stated.

"Like the blue bird warehouse?" Anna retorted.

"What should we do?" I asked.

"What can we do?" Anna scoffed. "We're not even supposed to know about that warehouse."

"Shit," I mumbled. "Tonight's the party."

"Um, yeah," Anna blinked, prying her eyes away from the blast to look at me. "I got a call from my father earlier asking where the hell we were."

"Then let's get going," I shrugged. "At least we'll have the party as cover to throw the blame of the blue bird warehouse elsewhere."

"Here we are," Anna laughed as she weaved through the crowds of people to park next to my mother's car. "Home sweet home."

We climbed out of the car and pushed through the randoms to find people who would know what was going on. While Anna and I had figured out what was happening it was nice to make sure. Jumping to conclusions in this life could kill you.

"You see anyone?" I asked.

"Nope, not yet," Anna frowned, her emerald eyes scanning the lot. "Oh, I found Tig and Happy."

My eyes roamed the lot until I saw the boxing ring set up closest to the garage. Tig was fighting with Happy, a member of the Tacoma charter. Happy was a sick bastard and not in the best way. He was loyal to the club, which was what mattered but it still sent a shiver down my spine that he marked every assassination with a smiley face. That was how he had gotten the nickname in the first place. Happy and Tig were two of the most violent members of SOA. That was a hard thing to wrap one's head around since most men that I knew in the club had done jail stints and weren't afraid to get physical if a situation called for it. But, Tig and Happy were called on whenever there was a job other people didn't have the stomach for. Another Sons of Anarchy member shoved his way in between Hap and Tig separating them easily.

The gray and brown-frizzy-haired, beer-bellied figure of the secretary of the mother charter emerged into the middle of the ring separating the two men fighting with ease. Bobby Munson was one of the Sons who were protective but not suffocatingly so. In addition for keeping the books for anything the Sons were involved in, he was an Elvis impersonator and frequently had gigs in Tahoe. He also helped us with our books, making sure we got all the tax exemptions right and stuff like that. A cigar was dangling out of his mouth as he said something to both Tig and Hap. When the latter two hugged, it was clear that the fight was over.

"You think Clay and Jax went to check things out tonight?" Anna wondered.

"Naw," I shook my head. "They have no idea what they're walking into. They'll probably go in the morning or something. As long as people see all the Sons at the party, there's alibis all around, that's all that matters."

"Yeah," Anna agreed.

We were still scanning the lot at parties like this the crowd was overwhelming. People came out in mass looking to have a good time. There were the male hang-arounds cooking up burgers and the like, the fire casting an odd glow against the clubhouse. The Sons of Anarchy in the front of the grill was sparking happily.

There was an undercurrent of tension with those of us who were completely in the loop concerning the affairs of the SOA. Despite that the party was a welcome one. There were normally always a party after church but it had been a while since we had a welcome back party.

"Found the guest of honor," I smirked.

Anna didn't bother to reply instead she broke into a run pushing innocent people aside to jump into her brother's outstretched arms. He picked her up and swung her around, a huge grin on his face. It was easy to spot Opie in a crowd, he towered over a lot of people. I walked up to the siblings in time to hear the tail end of their conversation.

""I've missed you, kid," Opie whispered, holding Anna as tightly as she was holding him.

"Me too," Anna whispered.

"I drove by the diner on the way here," Opie announced, returning Anna to her feet. "It looks nice."

"Thanks," Anna and I chorused.

"Izzy," Opie grinned.

He closed the distance between us and hugged. He lifted me off the ground, squeezing me tightly.

"How are you, Iz?" Opie asked.

"I'm pretty good," I smirked. "How does it feel to be free?"

"Great," Opie smiled. "Donnas' not exactly happy that I'm here…"

"I know," I sighed. "We talked. You apparently promised that you were earning straight."

"You going to make fun of me too?" Opie laughed.

"No, I run a diner," I replied. "That's earning straight."

"Straightish," Anna corrected.

"I just want to try," Opie groaned.

"I have faith in you, Ope," I soothed. "If anyone could earn completely straight it would be you. Enjoying your party?"

"It's good to see everyone again," Opie agreed. "No one's really changed except for you two, of course."

"We were nineteen when you got sent away, Ope," I sighed.

"Picked a hell of a night to have a party," Opie noted.

"What can I say?" Jax joked, easing in between Opie and I. "The Sons are known for having amazing timing."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes. "I'm gonna get a beer. Anyone want anything?"

When everyone said that they were fine I ambled off in search of beer. The lit cigarette in my hand was quickly burning down to the filter. I quickly smoked the last of it before tossing it down and stepping on it to kill the flame. I grabbed one of the beers that was set up near the grill smiling at the man behind it as I glanced around.

The crow eaters were out in force tonight, I noted with a small amount of scorn. There were only three kinds of women involved in this world. The old ladies, who were to be respected. They belonged only to their old man, and if anyone was disrespectful of that they'd get their ass kicked. Then there was family members sisters and daughters and the like. Finally there was crow-eaters. They were the lowest rung on the totem pole, not belonging to any one member. Crow-eaters were whores, plain and simple. They couldn't refuse sex and were passed around until they became an old lady or they were kicked out. Most people were confused as to why women would subject themselves to that. The truth was they either wanted the protect or the bragging rights.

I wrinkled my nose as I watched the crow-eaters throw themselves at the club barely wearing enough cloth to cover their unmentionables. Most of their outfits left absolutely nothing to the imagination. One of the sluts were all over Marco and without even a conscious thought, I crossed the lot standing close to the pair, glaring up at him.

"Baby," Marco stuttered stepping away from the crow-eater.

"Baby?" The crow-eater repeated. "This bitch is your old lady?"

"Izzy, this isn't what it looks like," Marco reasoned.

I spared him a look before staring at the girl. The wise words of my mother echoed around my head. Ma had counseled countless of old ladies, giving them advice about the life. The famous ones: what happens on a run, stays on a run. That if you love the man, you learn to love the club, that was geared more towards Donna, Opie's old lady, who hated Sam Crow, even more so now because of Opie's incarceration. And the most important was the one about the crow-eaters. Ma explained that it wasn't your man's fault, the club would always be desirable to woman who wanted the thrill of a bad boy. Still, you didn't have to let it stand. Ma had said, "They think they're all free dicks, ya gotta educate. Set the bitch straight, others see it, everyone knows."

Even though Marco and I had only been dating for around six months, we had known each other our entire lives. He knew me: inside and out, just like I knew him. Which was why he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"Izzy, you can't," Marco whispered. "There's only two weeks, baby."

"Two weeks," I repeated.

Two more weeks before we could make our relationship public. That I would be his old lady, get the crow and be the girlfriend of a son. Until then it was imperative that we keep this quiet. Maybe nothing would happen but there was the risk of him not being patched in for ignoring the wishes of the president and VP.

With one last dark look at Marco and the slut I turned on my heel, figuring that I'd hang out with Anna or find my mother or Clay in this mess and talk to them. Instead a hand grabbed my hair and ripped me backward. One glance told me all I needed to know. That little slut had grabbed my hair. If I was capable I would've shaken my head, this was far from my first catfight, she had no idea what she had just gotten herself into. I was going to let it go because Marco was right. Now though, I had another reason self-defense. No one would believe a crow-eater over me.

I kicked backwards grinning when I heard a squeal of pain. She let go of my hair trying to reach her now throbbing shin. I advanced on her with unmasked glee. If Tig was here he'd be so proud of the relish I now felt. The girl, who was new to this whole thing, now that I thought about it tried to back up. But, she wasn't fast enough as I curled my right hand into a fist and threw it at her jaw. As she fell to the ground I followed her, straddling her hips and punching her multiple times in the face and torso. The slut shrieked and cried and tried to throw me off. Though, it wasn't until arms wrapped around my waist sending me airborne and then against someone's chest that I stopped.

"Calm down," Marco soothed pulling me further away from the crow-eater. "Jesus Izzy."

"What just happened?" Jax asked appearing next to Marco and I.

"That skank grabbed my hair," I snarled, still angry about that. Even though punches and scratches hurt, getting your hair pulled was a different kind of hurt. One that I didn't appreciate.

"Sack, get the bitch out of here," Jax ordered gesturing to the girl who was still trying to get up.

"Bella!" Jax shouted holding my face in his hands as he tried to gain eye contact. "Calm the fuck down. Just take a deep breath."

"Let me go," I whispered.

"You going to attack anyone else?" Jax questioned.

I shook my head and Jax signaled to let me go.

"I'm taking you home," Jax said after a few seconds.

"It's okay, I'll walk," I shrugged.

"No, you won't," Jax responded. "Come on, you look tired."

I agreed, knowing that Jax wouldn't let me walk home. I made the rounds saying goodbye to everyone. Once I finished with that I walked over to where the motorcycles stayed. They were all parked in a straight line going in rank order from the president all the way to the prospects and hang-arounds. Jax was now the national vice president of the Sons of Anarchy, taking Big Otto's place when he went away for second-degree murder. Before Otto went away he had to chose a successor, which was how Jax got the position.

I accepted the extra helmet, strapping it on my head before climbing on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist before he drove off of TM's lot and in the direction of my house. Jax maneuvered his motorcycle through the backstreets. The streets near and around TM were called Sam Crow's corner. Most of us lived in that sector; it made it easier to connect to one another whenever something happened. Jax pulled into my driveway, idling the engine as I hoped off the motorcycle. I pulled the helmet off as I handed it over to Jax, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

As I turned to go he grabbed my wrist, effectively stilling my movements. I turned back around with a sigh and a groan, "Jax, please, I'm tired."

"You want to tell me what that was back there?" Jax asked.

"A crow-eater grabbed my hair so I put her in her place," I shrugged.

"That was a pretty severe beating for someone pulling your hair, Izzy," Jax frowned. "Was there something else?"

"That girl was one of Wendy's friends," I mumbled. Just because I had never seen the girl before didn't mean that she didn't know any of the other crow-eaters, they often banded together because the Sons just wanted them for sex and the Old ladies looked down on them as nothing more than cumrags.

"Why do you hate Wendy so much?" Jax groaned.

"Jackson," I rolled my eyes. "Can we not go there? It's not like it matters anymore she's your ex."

The look Jax shot me was full of disapproval, though I pretended not to notice. It wasn't like my big brother was surprised by that turn of events. Wendy and I had never gotten along. I thought she was trash nothing more that an easy lay and a junkie but somehow she had hooked her claws into Jax. Then she was invited to family dinners and stopped by the diner and TM a lot. He even took her to get the crow, what I had always thought was the biggest mistake of his life.

Wendy Case and Jax's relationship was not a stable one. He cheated on her on runs, off runs, really whenever he felt like it. Not that Wendy would really notice, she was too high to care about most things. Jax didn't like drugs, he especially didn't like someone he was intimate with on them. They had been broken up for about two years before they reconciled, resulting in her pregnancy, which was what broke them up all over again. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

"I'll see you later, okay?" I finally said.

"See you later, Darlin'," Jax replied kissing my forehead.

I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder as I grabbed my house keys, letting myself into the house. I shut and locked the front door before I armed the security system. I heard the roar of Jax's motorcycle down street after I had flipped on the lights as I made my way to the back room, quickly stripping out of clothes and into an over-sized shirt I slept it. I climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep.