Anarchism

Summary: Xander and Jesse have lived in Sunnydale their whole lives, and aside from the Hellmouth, the biggest part of their lives is the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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"Oh, c'mon! I wanna go to the other side of town!"

"No, Billy," Zack said in a huff as his drunk friend tried walking down the street, nearly falling into the road several times, only to be saved by Zack and Jason's intervention, "We can't cross the border, y'know what happens to people who do!"

"Ah, fuck 'em," Billy shouted out, "Fucking PCP! Why the hell ain't they been wiped out yet?!"

"Dude, shut up," Jason whispered, turning around as he heard a sound and once the lights began to appear, he grabbed Billy and began to pull him over to a bench, "C'mon, let's get you away from the road."

"FUCK," Billy shouted, then took a long drink from his beer bottle, "If those fucking biker-bitches actually did what everyone thinks they do, there'd be no problems in this town!"

"Oh God," Jason said, shaking his head.

"HEY, THERE THEY ARE!" Billy saw a group of four men on Harleys drive by them, and as they passed him, Billy drunkenly threw his bottle at them, "PUSSIES!!!"

The bottle, thankfully, missed the four of them...unfortunately for Billy, they saw it land in front of them and heard his outcry. Immediately, the four pulled up on the side of the street and got off their bikes, tossing their helments angrily aside as they marched over to them.

"We are so screwed," Zack whispered.

"Thanks a lot, Billy," Jason said.

"AH, FUCK 'EM," Billy drunkenly shouted, "THEY'RE ALL PUSSIES!!"

"Sounds like your friend there is a little drunk," one of them said, and as the four entered the streetlight's glow, the three got a good look at them.

All of them were dressed in their leather cutoff vests. Three of them they knew from high school. One was Jesse McNally, better known as the Biker Pimp. It was a well-known fact that most girls, particularly ones from the higher class, were willing to spread their legs for a Son, and Jesse had, if the rumors were true, certainly taken advantage of that. The man himself stood before them, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black shirt, toothpick in mouth and a scar underneath his right eye.

Immediately to his left was Owen Thurman, a formerly shy bookworm who, after accidentally getting involved in a fight between the Sons and one of the student gangs, took a liking to it and decided to join up. These days, Owen sported a mohawk and had an arm tattoo of a dragon, wrapping around his arm up to his fist. He was smiling at them, as he knew what was about to happen.

Beside him stood Xander Harris, who, like Jesse, was known as 'MC Royalty.' Jesse and Xander were the sons of Tony Harris and Bobby McNally, two bikers who'd been with the Sons since their founding. Xander had once been a good friend of Jason's, back during sophomore year, but Jason began to distance himself from anyone involved with the Sons after the brawl between them and PCPers at the Bronze, a nightclub inside an old bombshelter that was several blocks away from the SOA Clubhouse. Xander smiled at them, taking a moment to get his shoulder-length hair out of his face and scratch his beard.

The last one was a man known around town as Sawyer, though whether or not that was his real name no one knew. He was a dedicated Southerner, just from the sounds of his voice. He was a big man with long hair, and was routinely found at bar brawls. Zack had actually seen Sawyer in a brawl once, at the Bronze, when a group of PCPers had attacked it. Sawyer had taken a poolstick and broken it in three pieces across the throat of one of them, then grabbed him up and proceeded to impale him with it. Now, thanks to his drunk friends antics, they had four very dangerous individuals looking down at them with smiles that just spoke waves of evil.

"We're sorry about him," Jason exclaimed, "He's drunk."

"WE AIN'T SORRY," Billy shouted, but Zack grabbed his head and covered his mouth.

"Shut up, before you get us killed!" Zack hissed.

"Oh, we ain't gonna kill ya," Sawyer smirked.

"We're just gonna teach you a valuable lesson," Jesse spat out his toothpick.

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"Where the Hell are they," Sex Machine was not happy at the moment, not happy at all.

As he paced outside the clubhouse, he looked up at the mural on the wall of the Reaper, then looked down at his cell phone. Church had been delayed by half an hour now, waiting for Sawyer and the three prospects. They were also waiting for their other prospect, Jack O'Toole, so they could do their vote.

"No idea, Prez," Tony Harris responded, sipping his beer as he put his feet up in another chair.

"That boy of yours better show up," Sex Machine said to the third person there, a melancholly looking man sitting on his bike.

"He'll show, Sex Machine," Douglas 'Rev' O'Toole replied, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair, "My boy may've fucked up, but he will be a man and take his lumps."

"Hope so," Sex Machine stated, "Cause, you see these," he indicated the patches on his cut, which read 'President' and 'Men of Mayhem' on his right side and 'Sons of Anarchy' and 'Hellmouth' on his left, "That means I gotta do my job, do right by this club. And that," he pointed at Rev's cut, which had 'Sons of Anarchy' on his right side and 'Hellmouth' on his left, "Means that you gotta do right too. That means that if he doesn't show up-"

"Look, I know what happens, alright!" Rev replied, louder than he truly meant to, "And I will do right by this club, but I'm telling you, my son will be here."

"Well, he better be," Sex Machine replied, walking away as he began to dial, "I'd hate to hafta send Happy out after him."

Rev glared at his president's back, but kept his tongue, knowing that he was right. Happy would do what needed to be done if Jack missed this meeting, and Rev wasn't sure that his son could survive it.

"Sawyer," Sex Machine shouted into the phone.

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"Where the Hell are you guys?! We got church, and you're late."

"Sorry, Hoss, some punks tried to mess with us," Sawyer chuckled, "Ole Tone-Deaf'd be real prouda his boy, so would the Mick."

"What'd you do," Sex Machine asked, a smile in his voice.

"Lemme putcha on speaker," Sawyer said, and he held the phone out, "Boys, Prez is on the line, tell him what we're doin'."

"Well, right now, we got two of them tied up with duct tape on the ground," Jesse shouted, "We gave them a razor and told them if they cut out of it, we'll let them go."

"And Jesse, Owen, and I've got their drunk bud tied up, except his mouth, and we're shakin' him around to get him to puke on his buds," Xander shouted, "Say hi to the President of our motorcycle club, lil Billy."

"UGH!!!!" Billy moaned out, and the three prospects began to shake him up even worse.

"Hey, lift him up a little," Sawyer shouted, and the three raised him up a foot higher.

"This is for damn near hitting me," Sawyer threw a right uppercut into the boy, making him groan out in pain, "And this is for damn near hittin' my bike," he lashed out with his boot, plunging his foot up into the boy's stomach, and he started to moan and shake as he began to dry heave.

"Yep, here we go," Owen shouted, "Shake him!"

The three shook him up even worse, and finally, Billy began to throw up, right into the faces of his buds.

"Whooo, boy howdy," Sawyer shouted out, waving his hand in front of his face, "That is some powerful shit there."

"That ain't shit, Southie, that's dumbass," Jesse laughed out.

"Alright, you've had your fun," Sex Machine shouted out from the phone, "Get your sorry asses out here, now, or you ain't ever gonna see your top rockers!"

"I'll get 'em there, Prez," Sawyer said, "Seeya in 10," he hung up the phone, "Alright, prospects, dump him and let's be gone."

Just then, the two boys got free of their tape, but unfortunately weren't fast enough to evade Jesse, Xander, and Owen throwing their friend Billy down onto them.

"Next time, guys," Xander squatted down and got in their faces, "Don't let him drink so damn much," he smirked and patted their heads, "Y'all have a nice night, y'hear?!"

The three boys lay perfectly still as the four got back onto their bikes and drove off, waiting a few moments before they got Billy off of them.

As they stood and tried to get some of the puke off their shirts, Jason asked, "So...no more beer?"

"Oh, fuck that, just no more for him," Zack said.

"What do we do with him, anyway? His mom'll kill us if she finds out."

"Well, we could take him to one of our houses, let him sleep it off," Zack suggested.

"Yeah," Jason agreed, "Or we could call the cops and let them throw his ass in jail."

"...Yeah, that sounds better," Zack laughed, and the two walked on, heading for a pay phone.