This story puts a spin on the usual fanfictions. In this story my OC meets the club and its members in a negative way.

I hope you like it :)

Almost a year ago, my older brother Zander decided to prospect of the Sons of Anarchy MC. Not even six months after that he was shot dead by an enemy of the club. It wasn't his fault. He wasn't even involved in all that stuff yet, he was just a prospect. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or at least that is how Jackson Teller explained it to my dad. He said that Zander was just finishing up at the Teller-Morrow auto garage when these people drove past and fired at the club house and Zander was caught in the fire. I never believed him, I thought there was more to the story, but I think dad believed him, although I wouldn't really know because dad stopped talking after Zander's death.

I hated the MC, but I kept my mouth shut because Zander loved it. I refused to meet any of the members, although I had seen them all around town and knew most of their names, as we live in a fairly small town. When Zander died I didn't even go to the funeral. They gave him a funeral for a proper member; he even got a black coffin with the Sons of Anarchy reaper on it. I didn't go to the funeral because that isn't how I wanted to remember my brother. Joining the Sons was the worst mistake my brother ever made, and I wanted to remember the good times, not the bad. I wanted to forget about the club and think about all the things we used to do together as kids, like throw water balloons at the kids down the street, or play pranks on each other, or the time Zander got a broken arm and collar bone because he was protecting me from a bully. I wanted to remember the beautiful boy I knew as a kid, not the stupid idiot he was for joining the Sons.

I thought I could forget it, and I almost had, until a month ago when my dad decided the best way to deal with his grief would be to take his own life. I went to his funeral with all intent to stay, but I left when I saw Jackson Teller. He was the reason my dad was dead and had no right to attend his funeral. Seeing him there made me want to puke, or punch him in the face, or both. I left before he noticed me.

I have spent the last month trying to live by myself and make ends meet while still at high school and only with a part time job. I had to move twice to avoid the social workers, as they want to put me in foster care because I am only 17, but I don't want to, so I keep moving to the cheapest places I can find to avoid them.

I'm not coping very well, and the only thing I can think clearly about is how much I want Jackson Teller and his stupid little club to pay for what they did to my family. I had a normal happy life before they ruined it by killing my brother and my father, and they continue to live their lives like nothing happened whilst I am going through hell trying to survive.

I worked out a plan to hurt them, to make them pay for what they did. I am going to wait in hiding at the auto garage until they turn up on their bikes, and then I will go cut Jackson Teller's bikes fuel line and let the fuel spill everywhere. I will run a line of fuel back to my hiding spot, which will be near the exit gate, and when I see them come out and go back to their bikes I will light a match and light the fuel. It won't kill them, but it will most likely injure them, and it will definitely make me feel better.

I won't get caught either, because nobody will see me. They might blame someone else, but once I've finished school and moved away from Charming I will let them know who did it and why. They will have scars for the rest of their lives, as I will have emotional scars for the rest of my life. They will have a constant reminder of what they did and will have to think back to their horrible actions that caused them every time they look in the mirror in the morning.

It was a Saturday night and I was sitting in my small motel room when I heard a knock at the door. I open the door to find my best friend, Brandon standing there with pizza.

I smile at him, "You're the best." I say as I give him a hug and invite him in.

We sit on the couch and eat the pizza in silence. He knew about my plan and he really didn't like it. He was always trying to talk me out of it, but I wasn't going to change my mind. He looks over at my kitchen bench and notices a box of matches and a knife.

He sighs. "What's the knife for?" He asks. He doesn't bother to mention the matches, because he knows exactly what they are for.

"In case something goes wrong." I explain. "I need to protect myself."

"Do you really think you will be able to stab someone?" He asks, sounding concerned.

"Yes." I reply. "I won't need to if my plan goes right."

He sighs loudly again. "This is the stupidest idea you have ever had. Have you thought about what will happen afterwards? Or what will happen if they catch you? They'll kill you! And if they don't catch you, the cops will send you to jail for attempted murder or something, and then when you are released they will kill you! You can't mess with them like this."

"I won't get caught." I say flatly.

He looks down at his feet. "When are you going to do it?"

"Well." I look over at the knife and matches. "The whole club is expected to be at the club house tonight for some meeting… so…"

"Tonight!" He exclaims loudly whilst standing up. "Seriously? You're going to blow them up tonight?"

"I'm not going to blow them up." I explain. "And tonight is the best night to do it."

He sits back down on the couch after a few moments of silence. "At least let me go with you." He asks softly.

"No way!" I yell. "You're my best friend. I can't let anything to happen to you."

He sighs again. "Well, I can't let anything happen to you." He argues.

I sigh. Brandon isn't the sort of guy to back down easily, and it might be useful to have another set of eyes. "Ok."

His head moves back slightly in shock. "Ok?"

"It will be better to have another set of eyes, but I'm still doing everything." I say.

Brandon quickly nods his head with a smile. He leans back on the couch and his smile slowly fades. His eyes are filled with his worries and concerns, but he tries to hide them from me.

We walk down the street slowly. The knife is clipped to the waste of my jeans, and the matches are in my pocket. The wind is cold, and the beanie on my head isn't doing much, so I pull the hood of my jumper over my head as well and put my hands in my jumper pockets. Brandon is walking along watching his shoes with his hands in his jean pockets. He is wearing a light blue jumper that compliments his blue eyes. His dark hair is blowing in the wind.

"Why do you not like this guy so much?" He asks.

"I hate him." I correct him angrily.

"Hate is a strong word." He says, concerned.

I look down at my shoes. "Hate is the only emotion that makes sense to me at the moment." I admit.

He puts an arm around me and kisses the top of my head. We walk the rest of the way to the Sons of Anarchy club house in silence.

I smiled to myself. Brandon has always been there for me, even as a kid. He is two years older than me and a year older than Zander, so the three of us were all best buddies as kids. As we grew up Zander grew apart from us, but Brandon and I stayed good friends. I never thought of him in a romantic way, but I'm not sure why, we would probably make a perfect couple.

We arrived at the club house just after midnight. I could hear a party or something going on inside, and there were four times as many bikes as their normally is parked inside the gate.

"I thought you said it was only a meeting." Said Brandon hesitantly.

"I thought it was." I admitted. I only ever got little bits of information from people, as I didn't want to make anyone suspicious, so it is understandable I didn't get all the information I needed.

"We should go." Brandon said, as he stopped walking. "We can come back another night."

"No." I looked at him. Fear filled his eyes. "Let's just wait it out and see what happens." Maybe the others would leave and Jackson Teller and the rest of SAMCRO would stay.

I peered through the gate, holding Brandon's hand behind me. There was nobody outside.

I turned to Brandon. "There isn't anyone out there. We just need to make it to the other side so we can hide behind the auto garage. We'll get a better view of everything from there."

Brandon nodded.

We crouched down low and snuck through the gate and followed the edge of the building. When we got to the corner we peered around and looked at the closed door of the club house.

"Ok." I whispered. "We run on three." I kept watch of the door as I counted. The noise inside was still really loud. "One." I gulped. There was no turning back now. "Two." I got ready to sprint to the other side. I held onto Brandon's hand tighter. "Three!"

We sprinted across the open ground to the back of the garage. He jumped behind the building. There was only a small gap between the garage and the fence, but it was enough for us. There was no lights over here, so nobody from the club house could see us if they walked out the front door, but we could see them.

Brandon put a hand on his heart. "Shit." He whispered. He looked back around the corner of the building at the club house door, which was still shut. "I think I almost had a heart attack."

I smiled at him, and a laugh escaped me. "Same." I could feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest. We both sat down and waited for the others to leave the club house.

It was almost two hours before something happened. I heard the front door of the club house open and a few men came out. They were singing loudly and stumbling towards the bikes, obviously intoxicated. They got on and left as more men came out the front door. It took a while before all the men had left on their bikes.

I looked around the corner again to see Jackson Teller, the man responsible for my brothers and fathers deaths, Happy and Opie standing outside having a smoke. They were talking quietly and laughing with each other. Jax dropped his cigarette on the ground, stepped on it, then patted Opie on the back and they all went back inside.

I looked at Brandon, who was shaking with fear. I put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Now." I whispered. He nodded his head, and gulped. I took out my knife. "You stay here." I instructed him.

I crouched low and made my way to the remaining bikes, keeping an eye on the door the whole time. I got to the bikes and hid behind them. I searched through the line for Jackson's bike, but I soon realised I had no idea which bike was his. They all looked the same close up. I looked back at Brandon, who was looking at me concerned.

I turned my attention back to the bikes. I looked at the closest bike to me, and then realised that I probably couldn't pierce the fuel tank with my knife either. Sweat started to collect on my forehead, so I pulled my beanie down further to wipe it off. I quickly decided to cut anything that I could that was exposed on the bikes. I chopped through about five bikes before I heard the front door of the club house squeak open. I crouched down behind the bikes even further. I could feel my heart jump into my throat.

The door opened wider to reveal Happy stepping outside. He looked around and was about to light a cigarette when the door opened again. This time Jax appeared at the door. He motioned for Happy to go back inside, so he put his lighter and cigarette back in his pocket and followed Jax back inside.

I sighed a sigh of relief and held my chest as my heart beat began to slow down again. I quickly ran back to Brandon after checking the door one more time.

He looked terrified. "Holy shit!" He whispered. "What happened?"

"I couldn't get through the fuel tanks, so I just cut some shit." I said through heavy breaths that wee brought on by the fear.

"What shit?" He asked quietly.

"I don't know." I admitted. "I just cut whatever I could on the bikes."

"Fuck." Sighed Brandon, as he leaned back on the fence. "Now what?"

I looked around. I had absolutely no idea what to do next. "Wait here." I instructed him.

"Where are you going?" He asked, concerned.

"Just down that way." I whispered, pointing down the narrow gap between the fence and the garage. There was long grass growing through the fence, so I couldn't really see what was down there, and there might be something that could give me an idea.

I quietly made my way through the narrow gap. Halfway down I almost tripped on a few boxes. I looked down at them. There was one box filled with old rags, one box with pieces of metal from something, I'm not sure what, and then next to them was an old tin of some sort. I picked up the tin. It was heavy and filled with some kind of liquid. I opened the lid and lightly sniffed the liquid inside. A smile spread across my face as I recognised the smell. I quickly made my way back to Brandon, who was waiting anxiously.

I showed him the tin, smiling. He frowns. "What is it?" He asks.

I move the container to try read the label. Just as I had suspected, it was wood lacquer. I smile at Brandon. "Wood lacquer." I explain. "Dad used to come home stinking of it after work."

Brandon looked confused. "So?"

"It's flammable."

Brandon's look of confusion changes back to one of fear. "Oh." He says. "What is it doing behind here?"

"I have no idea, but it works. I'll just pour this over near the bikes and run a trail back to here and when they come out we can light it up." I smile at Brandon, but he does not return the smile.

He says nothing as I sneak back out into the open towards the bikes with the tin. I crouch behind the bikes and watch the door nervously. I fiddle with the lid, but it won't budge, probably because the tin is starting to rust. I grab my knife and stab a hole in the top. I flinch at the noise it makes, but there is no sound coming from the club house, so I assume nobody heard it. I pour out the liquid under most of the bikes and walk backwards with it to make a trail back to our hiding spot.

I put the tin back where I found it so it isn't near us when I light up the stuff on the floor. I crouch low and pull out my box of matches. I take one match out and get ready.

About an hour later there is still no activity coming from the club house, so I sit back with Brandon, who is leaning on the fence. I sigh. "This is taking forever." I complain.

"Hmm." Replies Brandon. He is looking up at the night sky. I join him stargazing.

I smile. "Those stars look like a bat." I say, pointing to a cluster of stars with the match that is still in my hand.

Brandon laughs. "Yeah. And those ones look like a wobbly whale." He points to the sky.

I try to look at where he is pointing. "I can't see that." He laughs and smiles for the first time tonight. His smile is quickly wiped off his face as we hear a sound coming from around the corner. We both move to look around the corner. Brandon is behind me, and his hand is on my shoulder.

I lean forward when suddenly Brandon's hand is pulled off my shoulder and I hear a muffled scream from behind me. I whip around to find Brandon being held by a very angry looking Happy. His hand is over Brandon's mouth, and his other hand is holding a gun, which he is pointing at me.

I hear something behind me, and turn around again to find an even angrier Jax coming towards me. I step back, but Happy's gun pushes into my back. Jax grabs the front of my jumper and pulls me to him, and then pushes me against the fence, holding me there with his arm pressed against my throat.

A wicked grin crosses his face. "Well, what do we have here?"

I hope you like the first chapter!

I would appreciate any reviews and suggestions, and I will post the next chapter once I have finished writing it.

Thanks

CDMX