#menofmayhem

 Darkness. It’s all you see around you, like an empty void ready to consume you. Your head is spinning, trying to make sense of your absence of sight. Your ears ring due to the deafening silence of your surroundings.  

Where am I? Is the first thought that breaks through the fog, echoing in your mind.  

Pain suddenly radiates through-out your body. You realize your shoulders, your collarbone, and your wrists all feel as if they’ve been battered black and blue. You try to shift around but somehow; your wrists are bound behind you. Your confusion grows, your mind fighting through the haze. You blink, feeling fabric brush against your long eyelashes. You try to think back to where you were before this, but even thinking is painful. You instinctively start to rub your temple against the bone of your shoulder in an attempt to push the rough, ratty material that you realize is blinding you. After a few attempts, an old twisted up cloth falls into your lap.  

You’re welcomed to the sight of more darkness. It appears you’re in a room, from what you can make out. Your eyes sting when exposed to all the dust that’s hanging in the air. You stifle a cough, irritated that you’ve been breathing heavily, inhaling basically asbestos at this point.  

What the fuck?  

You blink hard, all your senses coming alive with your eyesight regaining. Pain. Every part of your body aches, your hands are tied to a wooden foundation pillar behind you with what feels like old rope. Its split ends tear into your skin like sandpaper. You try moving your wrists around, to see if the rope will give way so you can free yourself, but it's no use. The bindings, if anything, tighten that much more from your movements. Giving you less and less room to work with. Whoever did this to you, had no intention of letting you go. You shudder at the thought of whoever this mysterious person may be, holding you captive. What they may want…

You refocus your attention, desperately trying to remember anything from before but you can’t seem to recall what happened. Was I at home? Work?

No, there’s no way you’d been snatched from the clubhouse while tending the bar. You must’ve been at home, sleeping?  

You lean forward, trying to use your body weight and the corner of the pillar to separate the rope, but it doesn’t work. As you contemplate your next course of action, a horrifying thought plaques your mind.  

How long have I been here? How long do I have to get out of here before they come back?

With that now in the forefront of your mind, you gain a new sense of urgency. Frantically, you try rubbing the homemade cuffs against the wood. You ignore the fact that the air is still clouded as your breathing deepens in an effort to free yourself. But once again, you fail. You growl in frustration, throwing your hands back against the wood, ignoring the dull aches seeping from the bruises on your battered wrists. As panic and adrenaline continue to take over, you scan your eyes over your surroundings once more, analyzing the area to see if anything can help you.  

With one little window above the wooden stationary table across the room from you, there really isn’t much of a light source. Just a delicate stream of moonlight, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air, stirred up from your panicked escape attempts. You think again, where the fuck was I? But you come up with nothing.

“God damn it Jax” You whisper to yourself. You knew this was coming, it came for all the women who dared to join the Prince of Charming in his tirades of violence. It was well known history that whoever stood next to Jax, had a death wish. Yes, believe or not, dating the President of a biker gang isn’t as glorious as it seems. Being an old lady makes you an instant target for the enemies of the sons, of which there are many.  

Who found you this time?

That’s right, this time. You’ve been kidnapped before. The Mayans followed you home one night. Before you even had the chance to turn the ignition off in your car, you were ripped out of the seat and taken for negotiation. Then there was the IRA. You were held hostage; your life was on the line once again. Literally on the phone line, with Jax on the other end telling Gaelan he would continue distributing for him in exchange for your survival. And now this. You know your luck is bound to run out. Your breathing quickens as you start to accept the reality of the situation. There’s no getting out this time. Is the club even aware that you’ve been taken? The question you keep coming back to is how long have you been tied up in this dingy basement? The fact that you don’t know the answer to that and probably never will, causes a pit of dread to form in your stomach.

“Fuck” you mutter under your breath as you roughly shut your eyes.

This song and dance is starting to get old. To what end is enough, finally enough? Each time your safety is questioned, you tell yourself that it’s too dangerous to go back, that you can’t handle the life; always watching your 6 as well as your 7-8-9.  

Yet each time you’re rescued, you’re consumed by the ways of the club, and always end up back to square one. The simple fact is you desire the life. The atmosphere, the people, the machines, the thrill... you feel you belong. That your role is meant to be at Teller-Morrow assisting those men in kutte, offering sanctuary and support for the women in tight dresses, to stand beside the old ladies and keep them on their toes. As for the president that sits at the head of the table; for him you’re the reason he stays resilient and clear-minded. Each time you get a chance to see how short-lived life is for those around the sons, you tell yourself you’re on borrowed time. That you need to walk away, that you will leave the life, but you know you speak the language of lies.  

“Quit your bitching” you mumble to yourself, thudding your head lightly against the wood. They’ll find you. They have too. The notorious band of killer bikers always do. You know how much you mean to Jax, and you know they’re probably already on the hunt looking for you. Jax calling all charters for assistance and letting the reaper inside him take the wheel.  

The reaper. That side of Jax, he can smell you. Feel your pull when he needs you. Everyone says that he’s the prince but really, he’s the god damn devil himself. He’s feared among warriors, he puts demons to shame. And your soul will always belong to him, no trade necessary.  

“I see you’re awake.”  

The sudden intrusion of your captors' grating whisper tears you from your thoughts as your whole body goes rigid. Your breathing falters at the realization that you’re no longer alone, your heartbeat getting louder and louder in the growing silence. You can feel the echoing of each beat in your ears. You wish you could turn it off and hide in the dark, in silence.  

“Shh... “The sound slithers from the shell of your right ear across the nape of your neck causing your hair to stand on end as it settles in your left ear. You can’t move, your body is frozen in shock, locked in a state of fear. You can’t even bear to look, to reveal the mystery.  

“It’ll be quick...” the voice drawls out, an underlying tone of excitement riding with it, riddling your skin with goosebumps.  

Just then, you’re startled by a muffled vibration from directly underneath your rear. Holy shit. You’ve had your shitty iPhone 4, in your back pocket this entire time. Regardless, you wouldn't have been able to snake it out from beneath you but the fact that it’s ringing on silent mode, gives you just enough confidence to believe you might get saved. You know it’s Jax trying to get a hold of you.

“Doesn’t matter” you manage to spill out. The two words are all you could say as you clutch onto your mask of composure.

“You won’t receive the same fate.” You whisper, staring ahead. Your eyes glues to an old piece of tape stuck on the wall in front of you as an anchor. You could feel it’s presence right beside you. Feel eyes burning into your flesh.  

“Look at me” the low voice says with a sharp hiss.  

You clench your jaw. You know you have to face your captor. It’s your best chance for an opportunity to escape or buy yourself more time.  

“You see” you start your attempt to distract.  

“When you’re in his grip, there will be no such thing as a quick death” you spit the words as you turn, to stare down your opponent.  

Your eyes grow wide, the second they make contact with hers. A shriek clambers out of your throat before you can even think to stop it, you try to rationalize what you’re seeing in front of you

“W-what are you!?” You scream at her, as you push yourself back as close as you can against the wooden pillar.  

You can’t believe your eyes, as they focus on the woman – no - thing, crouched in front of you.  

A smile slowly works its way onto her face. “I always forget how ignorant you humans are…so unaware of what’s lurking in the dark all around you”  

She creeps closer, stepping over your legs as she does so.  

It wasn’t the fact that her face, lips, arms, her entire body was covered in tattooed lines or that her expression seemed void of any emotion, but it was her eyes. They glowed deep blue. Her silhouette black against the navy hue emanating from her eye sockets. It was unnatural.  

“You’re a monster” You utter the words in disbelief, your eyes wide at the creature staring back at you.  

She advances again, giving you a better look at her disguised form. It looks starved, deprived of meals.  

“A Djinn” her voice echoes as she closes the space between you two. Your mind fills with confusion at her words. You feel her cold touch, gripping your chin. Before closing your eyes due to the blue light blinding you, your eyes focus on her tattoos and how they move… all travelling towards her hand, to her grasp on your face.  

Another wave comes rushing through you, but this time it’s peaceful. Not a nauseating sensation but a sense of euphoria. Your eyes roll back, as her toxins continue to seep into your pores. Your mind is abruptly cleared as a moment of clarity hits you. You find yourself in a different world, such as a dream. Your body completely relaxes without instruction. Everything feels… calm. Calm enough to let yourself fall further into the hallucination.  

“Grab the girl, I got this!” You hear a deep shout somewhere in the distance, or maybe it’s right in front of you. The now familiar haze in your mind makes it impossible to decipher. Maybe there is no voice at all.  

“Dean!” Another voice echoes nearby.  

You feel yourself losing consciousness as your hands are suddenly free from their restraints. Your vision starts spinning once again as you feel yourself being lifted from the ground. The motion of being airborne is enough to make you blackout due to being so vertiginous. The last thing you can remember is your arm wrapped around someone’s neck, as this person carries you in theirs. Your fingertips brush against slick, long hair.  

“Jax?” you weakly whisper before slipping into the darkness once more. 

                                                        ~

“Found it! Jax, I found her!” Juice shouts as he runs through the clubhouse, holding his laptop above his decaled head. Jax, who was just inches from walking out the front door snaps around, his face riddled with worry and downright anger.  

“Where!?” The president barks back, his glare piercing juice’s very soul. He wastes no time as he turns, continuing to the railing outside, which is accompanied by several Harleys. Following Jax were his comrades from the SOA crew.  

“Her cell just came back into service; the ping shows she’s 40 miles out headed towards Oakland. She’s on the highway right now” Juice said, placing the laptop on the outside bench and reaching for his helmet sitting on his bike.  

“Aye, Niners Jackie boy” Chibs speaks as he buckles his own helmet on. Jax looks into his brothers’ eyes with flared nostrils, seething.  

“If they fucking touch her- “

“Go get our girl and bring her back!” Bobby interrupts from the club door, hollering at the cavalry of big men in leather kuttes straddling their roaring machines.  

“I got this; you guys go!” He motions to the men to head out. The clubhouse is accompanying more and more bodies as Jax had ordered a lock down since the discovery of your disappearance. He has learned his lesson from previous threats, it’s the quickest way to make sure all the women, children and other men of mayhem are accounted for.  

Bobby chose to stay back and monitor in case the wrong people came knocking. He was doubtful that this was a distraction tactic but the one thing he did know, is that anything can happen. As he watched the bikers ride out, he was thankful for wearing his black shades, as he would have trouble believing his own concealed expression. There was a chance you weren’t making it back this time, and everyone knew.  

One by one, they follow their leader, silently preparing themselves for the worst. Jax however, was preparing for war while struggling with the ongoing battle in his head.

Jax hates, truly hates himself for being selfish. It’s exactly what this is. He hates that each time your life has been in danger, he has to face the picture of standing over top your headstone.  

Since you came back to Charming, Jax vowed to serve you, protect you, love you. He knew he was destined to be yours when you told him the life didn’t scare you, just the fear of losing him. You agreed to be his old lady, despite all the risks and stand by his side during all the chaos.

Even though Jax would never leave the club, he wishes he could. Every day he thought about how you deserved more. Just like him, you suffered sleepless nights, restless days, endless dry throat from all the cigarettes you smoked to ease the stress away. He thought about the way you startle each time your cell rings, adrenaline consuming you as you brace yourself to receive bad or very bad news. This life, it too affects you. He’s selfish because he holds your freedom in his hand. A better existence. Fuck, you’d do anything for this man no matter how deep it hurts. Yet, he’ll never set you free. You are the only light in his days of darkness, his one true love. This life isn’t easy, but no matter what, you always look evil right in the eye and challenge it. You’re a fighter, and you fight hard. It’s another reason why he loves you so effortlessly. You’d listen if he told you to walk away, to leave Charming and he knows it, but he also knows he’d find you dead before ever granting you that peace.  

He tries his damndest to keep his eyes dry, to override the blue with pure red hate, but regardless of his efforts, the tears fall, disappearing into the wind. He wreaks on the throttle harder, hoping the rumble would drown out his sorrow. 

                                                              ~

“Dean, It’s the only antidote we have, that blue eye freak got away. There’s a chance we’ll need this once we find her again and kill her for good.” The agitated voice spoke right beside you.

“Sammy, I’m not saying this again, give her the fucking antidote.” Someone responded from further away. It was hard to tell over the rumble of.. a car?  

“Such a waste, we don’t even know her!” You felt a grip tighten around your arm.

“Give it to her, now!”  

“Fuck!” You shriek as your arm is stabbed with a needle birthed from a large syringe. The sharp infliction snapped you out of whatever previous fog you were residing in or maybe it was the effect of the content that was administered into you.  

“That fucking hurt!” You shout, ripping your arm out of the stranger’s grasp and holding onto the spot that feels like its bruising already.  

“Yeah, well it was that or deteriorate due to your blood getting sucked out, disintegrating your brain” He responds, seemingly sarcastic whilst putting the needle away into a bag.  

“Jesus Christ” The voice comes from the driver seat. You look over at the rearview mirror in the darkness, suddenly catching a glimpse of deep green eyes accented by freckles as he drives underneath a spotlight. His face disappears as the dark of the night envelopes the inside of the car once more.  

You look up at the man who had been manhandling you in the backseat to find him staring back at you.  

“I think it worked” Sam says, looking passively towards the driver. You rub your eyes, as if when you open them again, you’d be back home.  

“Good, we’ll keep her at the motel. Try and stray the Djinn off her scent.”  

“Why? it would make more sense to use her as bait, draw the djinn back in and finish it off.”  

“She doesn’t need to be a part of it Sam.”  

“She became a part of it when she almost died, Dean.”

As you listen to these men banter your conscience becomes clearer. You have no idea where they were taking you, what had happened to the creature that was apparently about to feed on you, and what the SONS may be doing to find you. With rising confusion, you snapped.  

“Who the hell are you guys!?” You blurt out, interrupting their fight. “And what the fuck was that thing back there!?” You point your thumb towards the rear window.

“Because I swear when she touched me, it felt like… I was drifting away...” You shift yourself upwards in the leather seat, well more like a bench, in this vehicle that these men threw you into.  

You watch the man who sat in front of you, his broad shoulders rising as he clears his throat.  

“What you saw… is what you think you saw” Dean says slowly from up front, locking his eyes with yours from the mirror again. “She’s a monster… and she was trying to kill you”.  

“We really giving her the talk right now Dean?” Sam says with his eyebrows raised. You side-eye him, shocked by how comfortable this guy is. You wonder if this is something they’ve done before. “The less people know the better” He continues.

“Might as well, she saw too much and clearly she remembers, don’t you?” Dean asks you.

You rub your forehead with your fingers. This is all too much. This isn’t really happening, is it? You’ve spent the last year running away from thugs, for what? To run straight into the arms of monsters?

You scoff to yourself, then inhale deeply through your nostrils, eyes shut trying to center and organize your thoughts. You’re capable of handling a lot of bullshit, but this is next level. You make a silent agreement to figure out the truth first.  

You open your tired eyes, “Alright, one thing at a time.” You mutter just loud enough for them to hear.

“So, you’re Sam?” You point your finger at the long haired, flannel wearing giant who barely fits inside the car. He nodded; his eyes intense as he continued to analyze you. Maybe to see if the antidote was still working.  

“Sam Winchester” He speaks up.  

“Winchester… okay.” You whisper.  

You glance back to the rear mirror, searching for those earthy forest green eyes.  

“Dean, is it?” You question him in the dark as he continues driving down the wet highway.  

“That’s right sweetheart” You could hear the smirk on his lip, and you barely know the guy… Kidnapper, savior, whatever he is.  

you correct him by giving your name. “That’s a pretty name” Dean replies before his brother interjects with a huff.

“We’re brothers, we work this gig together” Sam says.  

You pause with your brows raised. “Gig … as in … killing monsters?” you speak slowly, feeling silly even saying the words.  

“We hunt monsters, then kill them. It’s sort of a family business” Dean explains.  

You stare at him in disbelief, jaw agape. “Okay…” You drawl out.  

“The thing that attacked you was a Djinn. They infuse their victims with poison, which acts as a hallucinogen, which you learned. As you dream away, they drain you of blood until you’re all dried up. The poison also seeps into your bloodstream slowly shutting down your entire system, hence why you needed the antidote.” Sam ever so calmly reveals what could have been your fate.  

“Right…” You shake your head, still trying to register all that has occurred. It doesn’t help that every time you close your eyes, you see that blue haze, scouring the inside of your eyelids like veins.  Just as you’re about to question more, a white sign with black fonts catches your eye as you speed by.  

“OAKLAND”

“Wait, wait, where are you guys going?” Your voice starts to raise as your panic quickly surfaces.

As if Dean can hear the unease in your tone, he responds softly.

“Back to our motel. You gotta stay there and we’ll go back out and finish the job. We’ll take you home when it’s safe”.  

You hear Sam scoff.

“Yeah no, I think I’ll manage just fine on my own actually. We need to turn around and head back to Charming, like now”.  You turn looking out the back window wondering if Niners are trailing the impala.  

“Oh yeah? Being tied up to a pillar is how you manage? How’d that work out again?” Dean questions, tearing his eyes from the road and meeting your gaze with furrowed brows.  

“Yeah, thanks for saving me, I get it” You spit back with your arms crossed, shooting a glare at Sam who clearly didn’t want to give you the antidote. He shrugs his shoulders back at you.  

“But listen, I’ve got bigger problems on my tail than this monster you guys are hunting, I need to get back to Samcro” You demand, catching Dean's eyes in yours.  

“I can’t do that” he says matter-of-factly as if he actually has control over you.  

“Hah” You laugh out loud. “Little do you know we’re probably being hunted right now” you say with a grin.  

“What are you talking about?” Sam turns to you.  

“I deal with real monsters on a daily basis, your worst nightmare is my constant” You speak with one brow raised. “Have you ever heard of a group called Sons of Anarchy?”

Dean stared at you through the mirror, you could just see his half smile cracking, showing a little bit of his perfect teeth “Oh? Those old boys that ride scooters?” he chuckles.  

And it was as if Dean had summoned Jax Teller, the Reaper himself because there it comes. The loud rumble of the Harleys, sounding like the impending hoof beats of the horsemen of the apocalypse arriving on the battlegrounds of war.  

“We got company” Sam states, as he crawls over the seat from the back to join Dean in the front, he opens up the glovebox and pulls out a pistol.  

“Guys, guys just pull over” you try to suppress the panic in your throat. The last thing you need tonight is to get caught in the middle of a full-blown drive by.  

Just like that, the men in kutte open fire while they gain speed. That’s their first warning to the brothers to pull over. They intentionally miss the impala as they presume you’re inside.  

“Fuck that” Dean curses as he slams on his brake causing an ear-piercing squeal followed by the stink of burning tires - a sharp punch to the nose.  

“Jesus!” You spit as you hold onto the seat in front of you to brace yourself.  

“Stay in the car” Dean commands as he and his brother step out, slamming the doors behind them.  

“For fucks sakes” you mutter underneath your breath as you attempt to crawl over the seat yourself.  

The Harleys come to a screech themselves as the men all then quickly step off their steeds. Each one, reaching and pulling out their weapons to point at the brothers. The sounds of Glocks being cocked simultaneously, echo into the night.  

Sam and Dean follow suit, raising their own guns, facing the crew.

“Jackie boy, these guys are looking a little too white to be niners” The Scotsman shouts to his president.

“She’s with them” Jax murmurs lowly. His skin screaming, he knows you’re in the impala, he can feel it. He takes his helmet off before hanging it on the clutch.  

The blonde man is yet to be armed as he plucks a cig from his pack in an all too calm manner. He slows his strides as he walks over to the brothers in his famous swag, one white sneaker in front of the other. He places his smoke in between his lips before pausing to light the end. His sharp framed face looks eerie, as the light from the flame casts shadows across his cheekbones.  

In the still air the crackle of his intake is loudly audible. The smoke drifting from his nostrils before he exhales

His stance expelled power. His feet planted widely apart from each other, one hand to his mouth assisting his smoke. The other clutching his belt buckle. He let his hand fall down, exhaling once more before breaking the silence and the hair-pulling tension.

“Give her to me” He finally speaks, in a low haunting tone. His eyebrows raise with his words before furrowing. He can see your shadow moving in the vehicle, bringing an instant blanket of relief over him.  

“Not gunna happen, pretty boy. Unlike you guys, trafficking isn’t really our style.” Dean spits out, never wavering his raised hand, gripping his gun. He can only assume these guys wanted to hurt you, that they used you for whatever needs they required. The fact that they’re chasing you down, guns out, demanding for you like some piece of property, enraged him to his very core. He never liked gangs to begin with but a biker gang? What a joke. He’s familiar with the Sons of Anarchy as he’s a man of research whenever he goes into any new town to hunt. Within moments of searching up Charming, the notorious Men of Mayhem found their way onto the Google search page. They seem to cause trouble, attend a charity here and there, then more trouble again. Their reputation, other than running a consensual brothel which is right up Deans ally, bothers him.  

Jax lets out a chuckle, flicking his lit bud to the side of the road. Before it can land onto the wet concrete, Jax pulls out his own piece and points it right at the shorter, dark-haired brother. The taller one flinches at his motions, looking over at Dean. Jax could tell he was trying to read his face, to navigate their game plan.  

The Impala door squeaks open, and a light thud sounds as you stumble onto the road as you pull yourself out.  

“Wait! Don’t shoot” You call out, causing all the men to turn their attention to you. Jax’s breathing stops as he watches you approach him.  

Abruptly, Sam puts his hand across your torso, blocking you from your path; his other still holding the gun.  

“Get your fucking hand off of her” Jax then points the gun at Sam as the men behind him holler with rage.

“Move” you mutter as you shove his hand off, continuing towards Jax unphased as you walk to him in line of his weapon. 

Dean calls out your name, watching you walk to the leader, his heart pounding while thinking the worst.  

Jax scowled at the sound of your name coming out of another man's mouth. He keeps his eyes on Dean as he clutches your waists and pulls you into him. The brothers seemed utterly perplexed that you weren’t a target; more so a member.

With a scowl still residing on his face, he finally breaks the eye contact from Dean to you.

“You okay Darlin’?” He murmurs to you as you lean into him.  

“Yeah, I’m fine, get them to put their guns away Jax” you motion to the armed crew behind him “they didn’t hurt me” He tilts his head at you with confusion, his icy cobalt eyes scanning your face.  

You turn to the brothers, their concern growing. You knew they didn’t want them knowing about their... occupation. You remembered what Sam said earlier “The less people know, the better”

You look back at your dark prince.  

“They saved me Jax, I was tied up in a house” you start to explain “I’m pretty sure it was the Niners, but… I can’t remember shit” you rub your head as you blatantly lie through your teeth.  

The brothers were first to lower their guns, Dean raising his hands in surrender.  

“She’s telling the truth” He says, speaking directly to Jax.  

“We were in the area, heard her screaming, thought we’d check it out.”  Sam explains.

“Did you see them?” Jax asks, clutching your waist tighter, bringing his gun down.

“No, by the time we showed up, it was just her'' Sam pitches. “We untied her, carried her out of the house, just trying to help her”.  

“Aye, and what were the two of you planning on doing to ... help her?” Chibs spoke out as he grabs his scarred cheeks, trying to conceal the pure hell boiling internally. He doesn’t trust these guys as far as he can throw them. Nothing about this made sense.  

Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “She might be right, maybe they do see worse shit than we do” he says, mumbling to his taller brother.  

With a dry chuckle, Sam responds “Yeah, you’re telling me”.

Jax releases you, as he tucks away his piece before sliding both hands into his pockets motioning his chin at them with his jaw clenched.  

“Wanna tell me why you two are driving around Charming in some shit impala then? Besides searching for women in distress?” Jax speaks sharply, his words laced with hostility.  

Dean closes his eyes slowly, his hand curling into a fist. “Shit impala” being repeated in his head. That car is his baby.

“We’re just driving through; we’ll be out of here by tomorrow” Sam intercepts knowing damn well his brother is still trying to recover from that comment.  

“Tonight” Jax demands through gritted teeth. He wanted these men out of sight. It didn’t add up, the Niners haven’t had beef with the SONS. Why were you taken? Why did you stay with them? Did they make you feel safe? Was he not enough?   

“Tsk” the click of Dean's tongue echoes down the highway before he purses his lips.  

“Or what?” he says with a half-smile. He couldn’t help it, he liked to get under people's skin and there was something about Jax that just pissed him right off. It was the entitlement, or maybe it was the fact that you were so calm about the matter, around guns, around bad men. He wondered what kinds of hell they put you through in order to be so tough-skinned.  

“Fuck around and you’ll find out” Opie utters, stalking up to join his blood brother in their battle of wills against these two posers. Settling his deadly glare on the taller one with the mop of hair on his head.  

“Oh, like how you found her?” Dean snaps back, his voice a deep rasp. “Maybe you should take better care of your women or better yet, maybe I should stay in town, just to make sure she stays alive, cause if it wasn’t for us buddy, she’d be cold by now.” He motions his index finger at you.  

Your President jerks forward but before he can get his hands on Dean standing in front of him, you shove yourself in his path, grabbing his kutte in fistfuls. Glaring at his brothers over his shoulder to back down.  

“Jax” you breathe, looking up at him “They’re not a threat!”  

“I really don’t give a shit” He says, leveling you with his dark eyes. That’s when you know he’s plotting his revenge for you later on. Disappearing doesn’t go unpunished, even if you were kidnapped.

You swallow hard. This isn’t the man that was smitten by you, how his eyes would sparkle at the sight of you, the man that appreciated hearing your two cents, the man that would softly ask you to listen to him when he was frustrated, no. This was the Reaper, and he’s very unforgiving. You know when you’re out of bounds with him, and as of right now you’re on the tipping edge. You blink rapidly realizing just how affected he is by the words spat by Dean. You release his kutte from your hands, feeling his anger radiating from his body. Before you can speak, he cuts you off.  

“Sit your ass down on the bike and shut your mouth” he says to you coldly.  

That was a direct order. You’re grateful for the dark of the night as it hides the growing red in your cheeks. You hate when he embarrasses you in front of his soldiers like that. You can feel the looks of concern settling on you, the men in kutte don’t particularly like it either but, that’s what being an old lady entails and you signed up for it.  

Dean watches you with Jax, his entire body tense with rage. He can’t even begin to understand the relationship you share with this man. He can’t fathom how you’re a part of a gang. You seemed so innocent, so defenseless tied up to that pillar in the cellar. Yet here you stand, next to the President of murderers. Hell, he barely knows you but for some reason, he doesn’t want to leave you there. Not until he knows for sure, that you truly feel safe.  

The air is so silent you could hear a pin drop. You slowly make your way over to Jax’s Harley, quietly slipping on his helmet and swinging a leg over the seat. You keep your gaze down, eyes locking onto a little pebble sitting by the kickstand of Jax's bike.

Jax analyzes Dean, how he watches your every step. He grows more and more infuriated as he witnesses Dean struggling not to call out to you, like he thinks he’s some knight in shining armor ready to rescue you from the Dark Prince you’ve seemed to settle with. It looks as if he is worried about you. And Jax simply doesn’t like that.  

“Hey, you gunna be okay?” your head snapped up at Dean who called out to you. His forehead creased with lines as he awaited your response. His carelessness was going to get him killed.  

“Don’t fucking talk to her” Jax shouts as Opie intervened, standing in between. 

“Ill be fine” you responded to Dean in the smallest voice, that it squeezed his heart. You feel guilt rising as you deliberately ignore the glare from Jax for disobeying his orders.  

“Tonight it is then” Sam states, not wanting to pursue this any further. His focus was on hunting, not this ‘who’s dick is bigger’ pit fest. He turns to Dean, nodding his head to the impala. “Let’s go”.  

Dean remains in his stance, his eyes flicker back at Jax once more, letting out a scoff before following Sam.   

“Hey brother, we’ve got the clubhouse on lockdown still. We should get back.” Opie turns to face Jax, trying to read his expression.  

“Time to let these wankers get on the road aye?” Chibs joins in. “She’s safe n with us now” 

Jax stares at the mystery brothers with his brows furrowed. Absorbing all the details of their features, their car, their potential baggage. He would be sure to remember them if they ever step foot near his town again and more importantly, come near you.  

Nothing more had to be said between the standoff of Jax and Dean, their eyes said enough. Jax turns, patting Opie’s chest. “Let’s go brother” he commands.

Collectively the men begin to board their steeds.  

You peer up from your lashes, feeling his presence as he walks towards you. He slips his black leather gloves on and by surprise he grips your face, squeezing your cheeks together before giving you a hard kiss.  

It’s clear he is marking his territory in front of the brothers; you really aren’t sure why he’s so threatened by the two. You deal with perverse men on the daily, but Jax very seldom had this reaction. He releases your cheeks, glaring towards Dean as he stood watching the two of you before opening the impala door. Once Jax sits on the Harley, you wrap your arms around his waist.  

Discreetly you look at the Impala once more, to see Dean looking back at you through his side mirror. You wanted to tell him that you’re thankful he saved your life, to tell him that you’re safe in this club. Well for the most part anyways. You wanted to apologize for the way the sons greeted them. But you knew this was the last interaction you’d have with the Winchesters.  

Your heart sinks when the engine turns over. You don’t like this feeling of uncertainty residing within you. You have so much more to learn about, this whole deal with monsters? Is this Djinn still tracking you down? Are you watching the only people that could protect you, drive away out of town, out of your life? You’re left with so many questions and an atmosphere that makes you feel incredibly alone.  

The machine below you roars to life, rumbling underneath you, the sound growing louder as Jax steers around. He then squeezes the clutch, and revs his engine, causing the tires to spin out spitting up gravel on the side of the highway which coincidentally patters the rear of the impala before heading back to the direction they came from.

BANG!

Your shoulders dip, your ears ring slightly at the sound of a gun going off. You frantically release one hand off Jax, to turn and look behind you, the wind causing your hair to blow across your face. Your eyes scan, as you’re worried that they had killed the brothers. Tig was the last one following the comrade, holstering his Glock with a smirk across his face. With a sigh of relief, you see Sam step out of the impala, to inspect what appeared to be a side mirror blown into pieces on the ground.  

The last thing you saw was Dean stepping out with his hands behind his head, before dropping his arms in frustration. You truly feel bad for them, they don’t deserve this treatment. Surely anyone who offers a hand in protecting your life would be put on a pedestal by Jax but this time, it seemed as if death was as good a reward as any. You feel his chuckle through his kutte, as he’s pleased with Tig’s style of amusement. You place your hands back around Jax, pressing your cheek up against his back. With shut eyes, you try to mentally prepare yourself for the chaos awaiting you back at the clubhouse.  

But due to the exhaustion of the night, you drift in and out of sleepiness on the way back to Charming, your mind replaying the scene of those deep green eyes, accented by freckles underneath the passing streetlights.