A/N: This is my first SoA story, and I have fallen in love with Juice- This is terribly bad for him. It now means he will be beaten severely in any story I write. Or hung… Or maybe drowned. If you are looking for a happy story, head someplace else. I'm into Juice Abuse.

Juice might flirt with people, but it won't be serious.

Disclaimer- I do not want to own SoA, and this is the property of Kurt Sutter and FX's characters. Just borrowing them for a story. If I did own them…. Juice would die way too many times!

Prerequisite

Chapter 1- Leaving and Charming

Juan Carlos ran up the fire escape, jumping high enough to catch the next ladder. His hands were gloved, black leather well worn. His outfit was similar in style, black, and well worn material, a sweater and jeans that seemed to hang off the young man. He was barely 18 years of age.. Soon, he made it to a broken window- His home. There wasn't much left of the building, long since condemned, yet no one had decided to destroy it quite yet. He had lived there for so long, barely remembered anyplace else as his home. Reaching in, mindful of the broken glass, he flicked the lock and slid it up. Years of practice helped him move inside quietly.

He stepped through the piles of debris, wall paper peeling and carpet long since ruined from a leaky roof. The front door had been barred close, so trash was scattered about. It was a horrible place to live, but when you didn't have any money, there weren't many options. Finally, he made it to the back bedroom, and stared at the bed for a few minutes, his resolve slowly breaking down.

4 heads were resting there, snuggled tightly on a twin sized bed, the only piece of furniture in the room. From their faces, their ages ranged from 5 years to 12 years old. Most had dark curly hair, sticking at odd angles from sleep, and Juan thought if angels existed, these would be them. But he steeled himself, moving towards the closet and grabbing his sleeping bag, tool set, and 2 changes of clothes. Creeping back to what should have been their living room, settling on the floor and laid out the sleeping bag. Carefully, Juan opened the tool kit, and flipped through the pieces. He couldn't take them all, but chose the ones he knew he would need regularly to maintain his bike. Placing them inside the sleeping bag, along with the change of clothes, he rolled them up tight, securing the sleeping bag to his back like a pack. Moving back to the window, Juan glanced behind him towards the bedroom, wishing he could hug or kiss them one last time, but knew if he did, he would stay. If he stayed… well, he would die in this place. Feeling tears welling up in his eyes, Juan went back through the window and shut it.

He felt the boot in his back as he approached the hole for the ladder. Knocking him off balanced, he pin wheeled for a few seconds before tumbling down 10 feet and hitting the next fire escape landing. Groaning, he rolled onto his side as the landing vibrated. His attacker had come down to join him on the fire escape.

"So, Whiney, where do you think you're going?" Juan groaned again, recognizing the voice. It didn't help they had used his least favorite nickname in the world, Juan with a y at the end. He looked the man in the eye, wishing he didn't feel so vulnerable right that second.

"Mark, I'm getting out of here. I didn't sign up for this shit, I-" a kick to his gut caught him off guard. He coughed, tasting the blood in his mouth.

"Too bad, my friend. We still need you. Just edit a few more files and we will let you out, and pay you too." He crossed his arm, flashing the young man a smile.

Juan stared at the towering figure, eyes wide, scared. But it was all an act. He had faced enough threatening people to know what they wanted, and how to deliver it. Kicking out his legs, he knocked Mark off balance, before jumping up and attacking the man. He felt the man's arm loop around his neck, and groaned, seconds before the air was cut off. Juan felt himself start to panic, but it worked against Mark. Juan gabbed, scratched and clawed, even biting down on the man's arm, smiling with a feral-like pleasure as the other screamed in pain. He shoved the man backwards, shocked as the fire escape's safety bar suddenly gave way, and Mark fell. It was a 20 foot drop.

He stared for a few seconds before taking the last two ladders down, and moved towards the unmoving body. Carefully, he kicked Mark onto his back, terrified what he would find. But, the other man was breathing, just knocked out. Juan stared at him for a second, before started pacing. Suddenly, he reached over and searched the man's pocket, finding a wad of cash. He stood up, before leaning back down and re-adjusting Mark's body so he was on his side.

Pocketing the cash, he headed for his bike, a piece of shit frankenstined vehicle, chopped and rechopped to the point no frame would ever match its design. But Juan loved his bike, something he had made from scratch, and with one crank, she was roaring with life, and took him away to the night.

The bike ate up miles of road before Juan Carlos had to make his first stop, the sun just rising, warming his back. He pulled up to the gas station, hopping off the bike and stretching. He didn't know what time he left New York, or where he was, but his body said he had ridden for too long. Moving towards the store, he pulled off the sweatshirt, revealing a plain white T.

Entering, Juan smiled as the little bell above the door rang, and looked through the shelves. He wasn't that hungry, but knew if he didn't drink anything now, driving outside on the asphalt and under the sun, he might dehydrate himself. He grabbed an orange juice and a cranberry juice, before approaching the counter. He set the items down, before going through his pockets. The jeans were an old pair of ginkgos, a million pockets, but comfy as hell. Finally, he found 10 dollars, and handed it to the lady.

"So, juice, anything else you need?" The young woman behind the counter asked, dirty blonde hair tied in a pony tail.

Juan smiled, "Mind putting the change on the motorcycle out there?" He pointed outside towards the bike. She studied him, as if considering turning to look. Finally dawning why, he raised his hands, so she could see them.

Instantly, her cheeks became inflamed with color, and brown eyes looked down at the items before looking outside. As she turned back, her cheek darkened even more as the biker's hands were in the same position.

"I-I'm sorry, I hope you are no- I mean to say…" She stuttered out what sounded like an apology, but Juan flashed her a disarming smile, making her blush for a different reason.

"It's ok. Better safe than sorry. Have a good morning…" He glanced down to her chest, a nice rack, but disguised it as a peak at her name tag, "Ami… "

He turned, grabbing the juices and chugging the OJ as he left. He almost sputtered out the orange liquid as she called, "You too Mr. Juice!" before shaking his head and going to fill up the tank. He was heading for the West coast, and knew he had 2 more days of driving.

The journey was a rough one, and he didn't stop, only to nap every hour, but some sun screen, and refuel his tank and himself every once in a while. After nearly 50 hours of this, he noticed the E light on again, and pulled off the highway. He roared past the city sign, barely noting he was now riding towards "Charming." He had slept about 5 hours total in the past 50, and figured after refueling, he could afford one night in a motel room. He figured he would sleep for about a week, if he could. But, it was late afternoon, and he felt his skin well tanned from the long journey.

Pulling into a motel, he parked his bike and stumbled towards the main doors. The man, elderly, balding, shot him an odd look until he pulled out what was left of his cash, a 50 still visible in the roll. They exchanged, cash for key, and Juan figured he still had 80 dollars left. He would worry about cash tomorrow. For now, he stumbled to his designated room, the ride quickly taking a toll on him, but he wanted, no, needed a shower before he crashed out.

After a quick shower, Juan sighed, wrapping a towel around his waist and somehow making it to the bed and passing out.

How did you like it? Juice doesn't look the type to sleep very often, and I know riding a bike for 2 days straight probably will put some hurt on him. For me, I feel it more the next day.

If you like my story, keep an eye out for others. They will follow the main story plot, but I feel like Juice is hiding so much… And I will beat it out of him! And some things will be altered from the original story arch, but so minor, it won't really matter. ^.^