Charming Faith



aka Lancer47

aka STFarnham

Summary: Faith Lehane visits Charming and

the Sons of Anarchy will never be the same.

Rating: FR15 for language, violence, and sexual innuendo.

Disclaimer: I'm playing on BtVS & Sons of Anarchy turf for fun, but not for profit.

Cast of Characters:

Sons of Anarchy




Clarence 'Clay' Morrow, (Ron Perlman); President of the Sons of Anarchy, Step-father to Jax, One of the Original Nine Members of SoA

Gemma Teller-Morrow, (Katey Sagal); Clay's wife and Jax's Mother

Jackson 'Jax' Teller, (Charlie Hunnam), Vice-President

Alex 'Tig' Trager, (Kim Coates); Sergeant at Arms

Robert 'Bobby' Munson, (Mark Boone Junior); Biker

Harry 'Opie' Winston, (Ryan Hurst); Biker

Jean Carlos 'Juice' Ortiz, (Theo Rossi); Biker

Dr. Tara Knowles, (Maggie Siff); Jax's Old-Lady

Piermont 'Piney' Winston, (William Lucking); One of the Original Nine SoA members, Now semi-retired.

Chief Wayne Unser, (Dayton Callie); Chief of the Charming Police Dept.

Kip 'Half-Sack' Epps, (Johnny Lewis); The Prospect

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Faith Lehane, (Eliza Dushku); Vampire Slayer-at-Large

Part One

As Faith drove past the 'Welcome to Charming' sign, she was pretty sure her Harley-Davidson Fat Boy would hold together a few more miles, it sounded so rough she was worried about the head cracking completely in half and throwing shrapnel through her legs, she was going easy on the throttle and coasting whenever possible. So a few miles later when she spotted the Teller-Morrow Garage that had been recommended to her she breathed a sigh of relief and drove past the gate, past the sign that said 'Sons of Anarchy', and into the first open bay. When she turned off her machine, the sudden silence hit her like baseball bat, it always did after a long ride, it surprised her every time.

A guy with near shoulder length blond hair walked up to her as she put her helmet down and shook out her wild mane.

"Oh hey, you're a chick."

"No shit? And here I thought I had pair a balls between my legs."

"God I hope not babe, that would be... Well, never mind. Now that's a mighty fine bike you got there, but what the fuck did you do to her?"

Faith sighed, "Well, she was a fine bike and I hope she will be again. Some asshole in a truck with bad tires managed to blast a hole in the fuckin' head a few hundred miles back, had to repair it with a tin can, baling wire and Miracle radiator stop-leak. I don't think the fucker would've lasted much longer." She swung her leg off the saddle and walked around, stretching her arms and legs.

Jax kneeled down to inspect the engine and recoiled in shock as he checked out Faith's crudely contrived repair. "Sweet Jesus! I don't think I ever seen that done before. How the hell did you even get it to run?"

"It wasn't easy, but, when you're stuck in the middle of fuck-all nowheres you do what you gotta do to get back on the road before starving to death. So how soon can you get me a new head, and while we're about it, rebuild the whole fucking machine back to spec. I put better'n sixty thousand miles on her in eight months, very rough miles mostly, so it's time take it apart and put it back together, the whole machine needs work."

"So what else is wrong?" Jax eyeballed the bike, amazed it could still run.

"Besides the hole, the clutch is cranky, there's some kinda intermittent short in the electrical system that makes the headlight go black for a few seconds after hittin' potholes, second gear is just plain fucked, she's losin' oil like a BP platform, the front shocks aren't doin' much of anything anymore, I ain't positive but the front wheel might be bent a little, it ain't exactly accurate to call her a soft-tail anymore, she needs new tires and I think I got a bad tank of gas back in Nevada, but other than that she's perfect!"

The gathering bikers laughed. "That's a helluva way to treat a Harley, darlin'. If you gotta do that to a bike why not do it to rice-grinder?"

"Fuck no, you treat a cheap bike like this an it'll fucking stop runnin', leavin' ya stuck in the middle of Death Valley. No, I'll stick to Harley, she may be limpin' some, but if you went where I took her you'd be limpin' some too. And after all that, she got me back to civilization, kept me alive no matter how rough the goin' got."

There were murmurs of agreement at that assessment.

"So how'd ya put the hole in the head, Sweetcheeks?" asked Tig.

"First of all, the next one of you calls me 'Sweetcheeks' is gonna lose his right testicle..."

The youngest biker, with a patch on his cut that said 'Prospect' swaggered up to her and said, "Then I'm safe, I don't got one on the right! So, Sweet..."

Faith interrupted him, "If you finish that word that I'll lop off half of the one ya got left." A butterfly knife appeared in her hand, she twirled it around expertly, the light glittered off the blade. It disappeared a few seconds later.

He started sweating and faded back behind Jax. Several of the bikers laughed, but it was forced laughter as they all took a step back and several unconsciously clinched their legs. "Don't worry 'bout 'Half-Sack'," said Jax, "he's okay."

"Sure, I'm runnin' low on sleep so I'm a little cranky. About the hole, see I was cruising down this dirt road in Death Valley, cruisin' mostly at ninety, but on a few really smooth sections getting up to a hunderd 'n twenty from time to time..."

"On a dirt road?"

She got some unbelieving looks but stared back unblinking. "Yeah, it was dry, flat, and on the stretches that were straight as a gunbarrel I opened her up. It'd been graded a week or so earlier and didn't have many potholes; just some washboarding made the ride a little squirrelly from time to time. So anyway, there was this fuckin' truck coming the other way. It was an ancient fucker, but it was comin' on like a locomotive, fast, big, heavy, not something ya wanna fuck with on a bike. There was plenty of room, but just as I was about to clear the rear end of the trailer one of the goddamn fucking rear tires came apart. I guess it was one of those old split-rim wheels that got a leak and couldn't hold together anymore or some shit, anyway bits of rubber and metal bits flew around and over me – I hugged the tank and tried to hang over the side away from the truck but at speed that's a little dicey, anyhow most of the flying crap missed me and most of it that hit the bike bounced off, except for a small but sharp piece of the rim that speared right into the fucking head. You'd a thought I drove into a sheet metal shop, all the noise the engine started makin'. Getting' her stopped from that speed was... Well, I ended up layin' her down but luckily I managed to lose most of my speed by then. But it was a close thing, really close." She examined her headgear and added, "Fucked up my helmet, too."

"Did the truck stop?"

"Fuck no, I don't think the driver even noticed the trailer fishtailin' behind him."


"So there I was, a good eighty miles from the nearest phone, no lines on my cell, and not another car, truck, nothin', no houses, no shacks, absolutely nothin' in sight except goddamn vultures circling in the distance. So, I sat down, ate a can of beans and fixed the hole as best I could with the can and whatever else I had at hand. Luckily it was small, but as y'all know, any hole in the engine at all an' she just won't run."

Tig, Juice, Half-Sack, Opie, Bobbie and even Gemma all took turns looking at the ad-hoc repair of the hole in the Fat-Boy's head and all shook their heads sadly.

"So how long's it gonna take?" asked Faith.

"Hmmm, a couple of weeks, maybe three or four, depending on how long it takes to get the parts. Shouldn't be longer 'n that, less you're in a hurry, but that'll cost ya. 'Course, this much work's gonna cost ya anyway, engine parts ain't cheap. I'll get you a written estimate tomorrow.

"So where you been that put that kinda miles on it? If you don't mind my askin'."

"I don't mind, I drove to Alaska, then all the way down to Tierra del Fuego and back, with plenty of side trips."

Juice said, "Holy shit! North Pole to South Pole? That's a hell of a trip."

"Not quite all the way to the poles, but near as I could get. The trip back was actually the hard part as it turned out. Ran into a couple of fucking drug gangs, had to run and fight my way through."

"I guess you made it."

"Yeah, it was kinda exciting, though maybe more than I expected. I won't mind sittin' around on my ass and drinkin' beer for a few weeks while you guys fix my Fat Boy. Uh, you do know how to work on Fat Boys, right? I mean all I see around here is nothing but Dyna-Glides, so..."

"Yeah, yeah," said Jax, "as long as it's a Harley we can fix it just fucking fine."

"Okay, any place to stay around here? I'm about beat."

"Yeah," said Juice, Opie, Jax, Tig, Bobbie, all simultaneously.

Bobbie, leering at Faith, said, "I'll take care of ya, you can stay with me, no worries!"

"Oh yeah, you betcha," said Gemma, "all of you get the fuck back to work! I'll take care of Faith, keep her out of your clutches."

Faith smiled. "Thanks, I can take care of myself, but I ain't really in the mood to fight off grabby hands right now, so yeah."

Gemma and Faith walked towards Gemma's Caddy. "So what kinda place you looking for hun?"


"Sure, we got one of those, a bit outside of town, over towards Lodi. Closer in we got the Regency Inn, don't look as nice on the outside, but it's a good place, even has room service."

"Okay, you sold me. If I don't find a somewhere to eat and crash soon I'm gonna face-plant right where I'm standing."

Jax said, "Hey, we're having a party tonight, ya wanna stick around for barbecue and beer? Gemma can give you a ride later, she won't stay all night and you probably shouldn't, what with you bein' a customer and all."

"Barbecue and beer, sounds good. Maybe I can sack out on a couch till then?"

"Sure, use my room over in the club." At Faith's skeptical look, he added, "don't worry, there's a lock on the door."

Later, the party was still going strong when Gemma asked Faith if she wanted to take off. "Yeah," she answered, "this is fun an all, but I'm wiped. Let's go."

They left in Gemma's Cadillac, Faith leaned against the door and instantly fell asleep.

Faith opened one eye but didn't stir otherwise when they pulled up to a stoplight and a girl in the car behind rushed out in panic yelling for help with her kid. Gemma got out and Faith turned to see what was happening. When she saw the girl cold-cock Gemma with a blackjack, Faith opened the door and nearly flew around the back of the car. The girl looked up at her, surprise writ large, Faith stared back like a snake watching a mouse. As she started to punch out the girl, a gunshot rang out from behind her and a bullet passed through Faith's side from back to front. On top of more than twenty straight hours of driving and only an hour of sleep plus four beers, two pounds of barbequed pork, a large plate of beans, and a about a 3/8" diameter through and through hole, Faith couldn't help but pass out.

She woke up when she felt someone pulling off her leather trousers. "What the fuck?" she exclaimed. She looked around and saw she was in a disused warehouse. Gemma was chained up to a fence with two guys ripping her pants off and getting ready to rape her and one guy on Faith, looking a little surprised around the eyes at Faith coming to.

"Hey there you fucking little whore, pass back out, it'll be easier for you."

Gemma saw Faith groggily waking up. She was incredibly sad that that this innocent girl, a customer no less, had to go through what she was going through. Gemma shouted, "Hey assholes, do you know who the fuck I am and what's gonna happen to you when this gets out?"

Faith heard her, then heard one of the men say, "You tell Clay this is a message: he stops selling guns to colored, or else we do worse next time!"

Faith had enough of this, she locked the fingers of her left hand and punched her attacker in his neck, right under his mask. She didn't hold back much, the guy made a low gurgling noise and was close to dead a couple of seconds later and definitely out for the count. She staggered to her feet, and just barely was able to hold on as she stepped towards Gemma, who hid her astonishment when she saw Faith nearly kill a guy with one punch, was even more amazed when Faith got up and staggered towards her, apparently with the intention of taking on the other two attackers. They hadn't noticed Faith yet, so Gemma took the moment to kick one of them herself to distract them a little longer, but the other heard Faith shuffling and turned around to see this apparition of death a few steps away. Even bootless, Faith kicked him between the legs so hard he lifted up several feet. He came down on the cement floor, hard, head first, out cold. The other turned, surprised and dismayed at Faith taking out his companions, and pulled a knife, Faith's right hand flashed out so fast he wasn't even aware of it until she broke his arm above the wrist and the knife dropped to floor. Faith's fists slammed into the guys chest, shoulder and thigh, the crack of multiple breaking bones loud in the warehouse, until he too passed out.

"You all right, Gemma?" Faith gasped out, "can you call someone?" She fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Holy shit!" Gemma said softly, "if I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have believed it."

Gemma starting cursing out loud as she struggled to get to her phone. It was in her coat pocket, but her hands were tied above her head. "After Faith's efforts, can I do less?" she said to the empty space as she inched her coat upwards with her fingertips until she could finally reach the phone. She hit '1'.

"Hiya darlin', how ya doin'? Ya ready for some down and dirty lovin'?" said Clay drunkenly into his phone.

"Help me!" shouted Gemma at the phone above her head, she wasn't able to keep hold of it, it fell to floor. Didn't break though, she could hear Clay shouting incoherently. She sincerely hoped he wasn't too drunk to find her.

About thirty minutes later Gemma heard the rumble of a half-dozen Harleys from about a block away. About damn time, she thought, glaring at one of the men who was moaning and about to wake up.

"GEMMA!" she heard Clay shouting.

"IN HERE!" she shouted back.

Clay and Jax appeared at the door.

"What the fuck happened here!" said Clay, Jax hastily averting his gaze from his mother who was naked from the waist down, with just her long coat waving around her legs, luckily the light was poor. Then he noticed Faith lying bleeding on the floor, her pants off, but still wearing underwear, apparently she'd been shot. He couldn't help but notice she was wearing black panties. Everything else she had on was black, so that wasn't exactly a surprise. And three masked guys lying on the floor that appeared mostly dead; now how did that happen?

"IN HERE TARA!" he shouted over his shoulder. "BRING YOUR BAG!"

Clay rushed to Gemma and was making a mess of trying to untie her.

"Dammit Clay! Belt my fucking coat closed before the others get here!"

"Oh, sorry." He was contrite as he fumbled in his haste to get her coat tied shut.

Tara and Bobbie arrived. Tara rushed over to Faith with her medical bag and started to administer first aid. She looked at Jax and said, "We've gotta get her to the hospital, call 9-1-1, stat!"

"Yeah? And cops for these soon-to-be-dead men?"

Faith came to, surprising the hell out of Tara. "No hospital," Faith grunted, "no hospital. The bullet passed clean through me and I heal fast, so just throw some antibiotics in there and stitch me the fuck up."

Tara shook her head, with this crew she wasn't at all surprised. "Okay, but it may be your funeral."

"Don't worry honey, I'll be alright, you'll see. Anyone got any water?"

Later, back at the clubhouse, the party having been long over, Jax, Clay, Tara and Gemma sat at the carved redwood table, drinking water. Gemma had explained exactly what happened.

Jax said, "You don't have to worry about any of those assholes, they won't be bothering you or anyone else, ever again."

"I hope you found out who they work for so we can find that girl."

"Yeah, it was Weston and two of his asshole buddies who work for Zobelle. The girl was probably Zobelle's daughter but we don't know where she is."

"White racists? What the fuck? Why are they after us? Why would they care about us selling guns to Laroy?"

"Maybe armed black men worries 'em some."

"They'd better be more worried about armed and angry white men!"

"Could they be connected to those idiot survivalists we blew up a couple months ago?"

"I doubt it."

Jax said, "Weston talked before..." he glanced a Gemma and decided he didn't want to admit to murder right then, "well, he said they were cleaning out Charming."

"Gotta be more to it than that," said Clay.

"Yeah, but if there is, the cannon fodder don't know it."

"It don't matter nohow, Zobelle is a dead man, he just ain't aware of it yet," said Clay.

The other agreed, mostly. Jax said, "Let's be smart about this, before we hit 'em, let's get as much intel as we can."

"Fuck that!" said Clay, "I say hit 'em fast and hard!"

"Let's take a couple days, dammit!" said Jax, "let's make sure we aren't walking into a trap!"

"They're gonna be three short now, that oughtta help."

Jax said, "Hmmm, won't hurt, that's for sure. But we need to find out what Darby's doin' involved with Kobelle."

Gemma asked, "What about Faith? She got shot and still saved my life as well as..."

"We owe her," said Clay, "the whole club owes her big-time."

Jax said, "And we won't forget it, neither."

"That's assuming she survives getting shot," said Tara, ever the optimist.

"Faith is one tough babe," said Gemma, "you should've seen her, staggering towards these two guys who were rippin' my clothes off, she was dripping blood from front and back both, looking like death. But she was still able to kick and punch so fast and hard it was like watching some kind of pile-driver. I was pretty much blown away."

Tara said, "I'll go sit by her, make sure she's okay."

Faith's wound, or former wound as it was now, mystified Tara. "Ms. Lehane, it's only been forty-eight hours since you were shot! The wound is nearly healed over, there's hardly a scar in sight! The stitches are more obvious than the bullet hole! This is phenomenal! I can't begin to explain this, can you?" She pressed gently against the previously wounded area. She carefully starting pulling the stitches out. "Does this hurt? I'd have used dissolving sutures if I'd known this was going to happen."

"No Doc, I told you, I'm fine, I heal fast, I'm some kinda idiot savant of healing, I can't explain it. Hey, are getting' your jollies stroking my skin? If so, you owe me."

"Oh good grief, Faith, I'm your doctor, quit reading into it more than that."

"Just fuckin' with ya, doc. Keep going, get those things outta me, it takes a lot more pain than that to slow me down, but the itchin' is surely distractin'."

Tara bent over Faith's back and removed the rest of her stitches. Then she had her turn over and removed stitches from the front. "There, that's the last."

"Thanks, I think I need a beer, and a couple of dinners."

"A couple?"

"Yeah, I have a high 'metabolic rate', if that's the right expression, I eat a lot, and I've been sleepin' most of two days now, I'm ready to fill up and maybe ride one of your bikers."

Tara coughed, "Just as long as it ain't Jax or Clay."

"Don't worry, I'm sure one of the others will volunteer."

Tara laughed delightedly.

End Part I


(1) It may be awhile before Part II is ready, but I've got some ideas struggling to get free so there will be more to come, after all, Faith with the Sons of Anarchy is abundant with possibilities, it is difficult to narrow the focus enough to find a good plot.

(2) Your author cannot personally attest to any one brand of motorcycle being superior to any other brand, but I am certain that close to one hundred percent of Harley-Davidson owners are convinced that H-D is far superior to all others combined.