Getting to his place, Tig parked his bike and before going in made a quick phone call. After setting up a meet for a couple of hours from now he went inside. As soon as he opened the door he was greeted with a fantastic smell coming from the kitchen.

Following his nose to the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of his old lady and his dog in the kitchen makin' dinner. After giving the pup a couple of scritches behind the ear, he got up behind Venus and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Whatcha cookin', doll?" Kissing her neck.

She turned in his arms, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "There's Chicken Fried Steak warming in the oven. With mashed potatoes, and green beans. And if you'll go clean up, I can finish the gravy and then my hungry man can eat." Turning back to the stove.

He gave her a quick squeeze and kiss on the neck. "Sounds good." He knows normally he'd have already said or done something to get them to bed, but not tonight. He still had things to do.

She gave him an odd look as he walked off to go get cleaned up for dinner, but didn't say anything.

When they had both sat down and were eating, Venus looked over to him. "Nero said something about another Teller boy?"

"Yeah, Jax. Gemma and JT's oldest." He sighed. "It's a long story, doll, but the short of it is Jax was sent on a walkabout and came back with a girl. He wanted the girl more than the club and told Gem and Clay he wasn't gonna patch. They ran him and his girl off." Shaking his head. "And I have the feeling if he didn't need to deal with legal shit, they'd avoid all of this like the plague."

Venus nodded. "As much as I liked Gemma, I can see her not taking kindly to someone outside of the club." Venus sighed. "But that's not all Alexander, I can see it in your face."

"Chibs looked into what Jax had been up to, figuring he'd have maybe a couple of minor possession charges, petty shit like that. Chibs figured it might give us a clue to where he was livin'." He had a pretty good idea of what that laundry list of charges meant and it wasn't good for SAMCRO. "But he found pages of charges ranging from local, state, and federal charges, in multiple states."

"So they're criminals anyway? Without club protection?" Venus made it sound like that was the dumbest idea ever.

He shrugged. "I don't think they're criminals, exactly." He sucked it up and decided to tell her what he already knew. "Look about twenty years ago, I'd taken off for a few days, ended up in this bar just over the Nevada border." He grinned at her. "There was a bar fight, me against all the locals. Well, some guy decided he didn't like those odds so he jumped in to help me out." He smiled a little at the memory. That was a great night. "Doll, not only did he know how to fight, you could tell he was holding back so he wouldn't kill anyone."

Venus smiled. "Kind of like you sometimes, then."

"Sure." He rolled his eyes a little and received a smack on his hand. He smiled at her. "After we kicked ass, we hightailed it to another bar. And that's when he started spewing bullshit at me. Or at least that's what I thought then." His brow furrowed. "Now I'm not so sure. It's the only thing I can think of that makes Jax and his wife's rap sheets make any goddamned sense."

"What did the man tell you, Alexander? You still look shook by it." Venus took his hand.

"That ghosts were real. That all of those things we think are scary stories and fairy tales are fucking real and there's a group of people who hunt and kill them." He looked at Venus expecting to see a skeptical look, but she just nodded.

Looking at his surprised face Venus gave him a warm smile. "Alexander, you like to treat me like I'm a blushing virgin, but we both know I've been around the block a few times, and let's just say this girl has seen enough freaky things in her life to not discount what that man said immediately." The smile disappeared. "You think Jax Teller is one of these hunters?"

Shrugging again. "It's the only thing that makes sense." He looked at her apologetically. "I've stayed in touch with the guy, he's agreed to meet me…" He looked at the clock on the wall. "In about an hour and a half." He took a last bite. "This was wonderful darlin' and I wish I didn't have to go…"

She leaned over and kissed him. Smiling as she sat back. "You are the new Vice-President of SAMCRO, sugar. You need to get all the facts before these two get here." She shook her head slightly. "I'm a big girl Alexander, I think I can find something to occupy my time until you get back."

Sliding his chair back, he stood up and leaned over giving her another kiss. "I don't know when I'll be back, so don't wait up."

She nodded as she patted his cheek. "Go meet your 'informant'." Putting air quotes around informant.

He grinned at her as he ducked out of the house. Starting his bike, and getting on the road; he hoped he was wrong about what Jax had been up to all of these years. Dale, the guy he'd met all those years ago, had indicated that the hunting life was lonely and that unless they were born into it, a life that one usually came to after tragedy. But then again, maybe being ostracized by your family can push you into a far more dangerous life.

That made him laugh, and not in a good way. Fuck, Jax was alive and Tom was dead, so who was he to say which life was more dangerous?

He rode for nearly an hour before he pulled off into the parking lot of one of the shadiest bars he'd ever been in, and for fuck's sake, he'd been in some really shady fuckin' places.

Getting inside, he looked around in the darkened room. First of all, everyone in the fuckin' place was strapped. Awesome. Secondly, he couldn't find… there he was, sitting in a back booth, glare of a laptop illuminating a gaunt face.

He slid into the other side of the booth and waited for Dale to finish whatever he was doing on his computer. The man hit a few more keys and then gently pushed the laptop aside, not closing it.

Dale reached a hand across the table. "Tig." Shaking his hand. "Sorry to hear about all the trouble down your way."

"Yeah. Thanks." He looked around, trying to find a waitress, when he saw a girl bringing two beers and a bottle with two glasses their way.

Dale looked at the girl with a small smile. "Thanks Katie. If you could bring a couple more beers, I think we'll be fine for a while." Letting the girl know by his tone that Dale wanted privacy.

"Sure thing, Dale." The girl smiled at the man sitting across from him, then ran off to grab more beers.

Dale looked at him. "You called me and asked about Sam and Dean Winchester. Why?" The man spoke like he knew them.

"You know them?" He took a drink of his beer as the girl brought the second round and set them on the table.

Dale watched the girl walk away and then turned back to him. "Not personally, I know of them." Dale tilted his head and looked at him with an odd look in his eyes. "When I saw the paper, I had a feeling I'd be hearing from you." The man smiled the odd smile that over the years always sent a slight shiver down his spine. "You don't really want to know about Sam and Dean, you want to know about Jackson and Cadence Teller."

He narrowed his eyes at the other man, who looked back at him with not a shred of worry in his eyes. "You know about them, too?"

Dale smiled again. "All hunters know about Sam and Dean Winchester and Jackson and Cadence Teller." The smiling stopped and the man looked serious as a motherfucking heart attack. "You stop the apocalypse, you get known." Then shrugged. "But the Winchester name has been around for a while." The man looked like an animated cadaver. "John Winchester was one of the finest hunters to ever live." The man paused. "And his sons are even better."

"Yeah, Sam and Dean are badass. That doesn't…" He was interrupted by a hard look.

"John Winchester considered Jax Teller his son, also." The man grinned for a moment. "Maybe son-in-law is the better way to put that." The serious look was back. "I was including Jax in my previous statement."

"So if Jax comes in hot, you're saying we've got a fight on our hands." Great. Just what he fucking needed.

Dale shook his head, the white that was overtaking auburn glinting in the shoddy lighting of the bar. "No, if Jax Teller comes in hot, and has the Winchester boys with him?" There was that creepy smile again. "There won't be a fight. There will be a slaughter. Lucky for you, they have rules. No killing humans." The creepy smile remained. "Well, normal humans at least."

He frowned. "Normal humans? What the fuck Dale?"

The other man shrugged. "They kill vamps, weres, and exorcise demons from people. The ones that have been turned into vamps or weres, they're just killed. And not everyone survives having a demon exorcised from them. Sometimes they don't have time to bother with an exorcism, they just shoot and the demon leaves. They try not to shoot to kill, but demons don't usually let them get away with that. If they're going to be ejected violently then they're takin' the host with them." Dale took a drink of his beer. "If you think of it that way; the Winchesters and the Tellers have a higher body count than any ten serial killers combined."

He sat the beer he'd been getting ready to take a drink from and poured a shot of whiskey. Throwing that back, he stared at the man, a little dumbfounded. "You're shitting me."

Dale shook his head slightly. "Actually, I'm underestimating their body count." The man gave him what he was sure Dale thought was a reassuring smile, but really it was just a less creepy version of his other one. "But like I said, they don't go after regular old humans."

He lit a cigarette. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? "Are you fucking serious?" Seemed like a good place to start. "That's supposed to make me feel better? They don't go after regular humans." He took a drag and exhaled. "Because I gotta say, not really feeling any of this shit at all."

Dale took a sip of whiskey and shrugged. "You came to me for information, not reassurance, Tig." A bony finger tapping the edge of the glass. "Because quite frankly my friend, information is all I have." Dark eyes with golden flecks bored into his. "And hard information is scant, but rumors are rife around the four of them. So I find it impossible to offer reassurance."

"Rumors?" He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "You mean gossip?"

Surprisingly white teeth flashed in a wolfish smile. "Hunters are like fishermen. We like our tales and they tend to change over time." Dale took another sip of whiskey. "And with the hunters in question, there are a number of tales." The man raised a finger. "I know, you're not interested in tales, you want facts."

Dale sat back and studied him for a moment, then sighed. "The facts are that SAMCRO cast Jax and Cadence Teller out and the Winchesters took them in." The man's tone was like a blade. "They have spent that time fighting the things in the dark, and they are hunters through and through." The man scanned the room and looked back to him. "Wild and dangerous and if they come to your town, nothing good is happening and people usually die."

He closed his eyes. This so wasn't what he wanted to hear. But he still had questions. "Yeah, okay. We should all be on our best behavior." He took a drink of his beer and hoped the other man didn't notice the slight shake. "But I gotta know, what's up with all the grave desecration and robbery charges? Those are just fucking weird."

Dale shook his head. "Ghosts."

"What the fuck?" He shoulda brought some aspirin. This was givin' him a fuckin' headache.

"Sometimes when someone dies; either violently, or unexpectedly, or sometimes because they just are unable to move on; their spirit lingers." Dale shrugged. "Even what starts out as the most benign ghost will eventually turn violent." Dale looked at him, an almost sad glint in his eyes. "The human soul is meant to move on after death. Even ghosts can go mad." The man shook his head and cleared his throat. "To get rid of a ghost, you salt and burn the remains. If there are no remains, it's an item that the deceased had an intense connection to."

Dale's tone was droll as he went on. "Salt and burns are the majority of what most hunters deal with." The creepy smile was back. "Therefore a lot of us have pages of those particular charges."

"Most hunters?" He had a feeling he wasn't gonna like this.

Dale sat back again. "Most hunters don't deal with apocalypses." There was a dry humor in the man's voice. "The Winchesters and the Tellers deal with those."

He wasn't going to ask; he really did not want to know. No fucking way, not him. "Apocalypse?! As in the fucking biblical Apocalypse?! The armies of heaven and hell battling out here on Earth?! That Apocalypse?!" Fuck. Well, at least he managed to keep his voice low so he didn't sound like he'd completely lost his mind.

But the other man wasn't looking at him as if he'd lost his mind. Dale was looking at him like he was a moron who was finally getting it. "Yes." The man leaned forward. "The biblical Apocalypse." Then he sat back and gave a wan smile. "But to be fair; Sam and Dean started it, breaking the first and last seals."

He looked at the other man and saw the weight in his eyes. As much as he wanted to discount all of this as crazy talk; he couldn't. The man was obviously telling the truth. About all of it. Looking around the bar, he noticed the same world weary looks on the others faces, the same slightly paranoid posture. He looked back to his 'friend'. "This is a hunter's bar, isn't it?"

Dale nodded, slight smirk on his face. "Why? Feel like testing your mettle tonight?"

He grinned back at the man. "Nah, gettin' too old for that shit." Taking a drink of his beer. "Plus, I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your friends by kicking their asses."

The other man chuckled lightly. "Probably for the best." Dale tilted his beer towards him. "We certainly aren't as young as we used to be." The other man closed his eyes for a moment, like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

He didn't try to rush the man; in the years he had known Dale, the man had never bullshitted him, so if he needed a little time to get what he needed to say together, then he didn't mind waiting. He could be patient when he had to be; he just didn't like it so he didn't exercise it much.

When Dale opened his eyes, they were hard and serious. "Ugly shit went down with your club, Tig." Dale shook his head sadly. "Tom Teller set things in motion that he could never have dreamed of." The man gave a sad laugh as he looked him dead in the eyes. "Jackson Teller is coming home and your club isn't the only entity interested in his homecoming." The laugh disappeared. "Be careful Tig. That's all I can tell you without delving into rumors and stories. And remember; Jackson Teller is no longer the boy who was cast out. He is a hunter, and more lethal than you or your brothers." He knew a dismissal when he heard one.

"Yeah. I hear you." He stood up and Dale gave him a sad smile again.

"If it makes you feel any better Tig, they are the good guys." The man looked almost nostalgic. "As John Winchester once told me; 'It's the family business; saving people, hunting things."

He thought about it. "Doesn't make me feel better about it at fucking all." He shook Dale's hand. "Not sure how much of this I actually fucking believe, but thanks for the drinks."

"You're welcome." Dale shrugged. "Believe it or not; just keep your eyes and ears open."

"Always do." With a last nod of the head, he turned and left the bar.

Getting to his bike, he sat out there smoking a cigarette before taking off. He wasn't sure what the fuck he should think. Even though it sounded like the ramblings of a crazy man, they made sense, and it explained the rap sheets. He pulled the micro-recorder out from his cut and looked at it for a moment before shoving it back in.

He wasn't gonna enjoy this but it was gonna have to happen. Pulling out his cel, he punched a number in. After a couple of rings, a rough voice answered. "What the hell Tiggy? Thought ye was goin' home to get some sleep?" He felt a little bad he'd woken Chibs up, but it had to be done.

"Yeah, getting there soon." He sighed. "Look; I need you and Hap to meet me at my place in the morning. Went and saw a guy I know who had some info on what Jax and his wife might be into. I'd rather talk to you and Hap before bringing it to the table." Letting Chibs know this wasn't the same cryptic bullshit that Tom and Clay pulled over the last few years.

Chibs sighed. "Aye. I'll call Hap and let him know. Be there around eight." Chibs hung up.

With that settled, he felt a little better. He'd let his brothers listen to the recording and let them decide if it was bullshit or not.

Starting his bike, he pulled out of the lot and onto the highway. Every mile he rode away from the place he felt lighter. Gunning his bike, he enjoyed the thrum throughout his body as he made plans for the rest of the night with his old lady.