Angela sat on one of the many couches in the clubhouse, Ellie Winston's hair in her hands as she listened to the teenager talk. The SAMCRO men had walked out the door just a few minutes earlier, Happy with his tattoo kit in hand. She had no idea what was going on, but she had a sneaking suspicion whatever tattooing was going to happen would not be pleasant. She was pulled from her thoughts as Ellie's cell phone pinged. The younger girl's mouth was moving a mile a minute, her fingers moving just as fast as she texted away on her cell phone. Angela peeked at the screen, raising her eyebrow at the name at the top of it. "Who's Brian, El?"

Ellie quickly closed the screen and sighed. "He's kinda my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" she questioned, tugging her hair and getting the young girl to look back at her. "How old are you? Sixteen?"

"Yeah," she said, looking surprised that Angela knew her age.

Angela remembered what she was doing with her boyfriend at sixteen and grimaced. "You're not...doing it, are you?"

"Not yet," Ellie replied, shrugging as if it was no big deal. "I watched some of Lyla's movies so I know how to do it. Kinda don't want my first time to be with some kid though."

"Oh no? Someone else in mind?" she asked, worried about who exactly Ellie was referring to. The girl shrugged, though her gazed drifted over in Rat's direction. Angela grimaced at the look, tugging again on the girl's hair. "Rat? Really, El?"

Ellie blushed and nodded. "He's nice to me," she explained. "Doesn't treat me like I'm some fragile little girl 'cause my parents are dead. I think its 'cause he didn't know 'em well."

She finished Ellie's hair, tying off the braid and waiting for Ellie to face her before asking, "You lookin' to be an Old Lady, Ms. Winston?"

Ellie's eyes scanned the clubhouse for a brief moment before landing on the wall of mugshots. Angela had no doubt which one she was looking at. Clearing her throat, she shook her head. "No. I don't want to end up like my Ma. Soon as I turn eighteen, I'm out of here. I'm gonna go to college, get a good job somewhere far away."

Angela was happy to hear her plans; it gave her hope that one day her own daughter would choose the same path. "You gonna keep in touch?"

"Of course. Ken wants to stay here," she said, a disappointed look in her eyes. "Just a heads up, he plans to work at Dubrowski's with you and Bones."

"Oh really?" Angela asked on a laugh. She looked over at the younger Winston who was on Juice's computer in the corner, playing some online game she was unfamiliar with. Since he started living in Charming with Lyla, Kenny was a regular over at the funeral home. It wasn't entirely legal to have him there, but Skeeter didn't seem to mind. Kenny was free labor; as long as he didn't have to pay the kid, the funeral home owner didn't give a shit. She had to admit, the kid had a knack for the work they did. She'd been impressed the first time she'd seen the tight stitching he'd done to close up one of their cases. It never crossed her mind that it was something he wanted to do for a living; she thought he just had fun messing around with Bones. "He doesn't want to Prospect?"

Ellie shook her head, a proud look in her eyes. "No. He doesn't," she answered. She nodded towards where Piper was playing cards with a Prospect from another charter. "Piper does, though. He hasn't...he doesn't know what it's like. To him the Sons are these...heroes that helped him and Ly when they weren't doin' so well. He doesn't get it."

She sighed in response, feeling her own child flip around in her tummy. Rubbing a hand over it, she wondered what her daughter would think of this crazy life she was about to be born into. "To each his own, I guess."

"Sometimes...sometimes I think my Dad and Grandpa would be disappointed in us for not...for not wanting this life," she admitted sadly. "They loved this club, loved their brothers. Feels like I'm letting them down by not wanting to be a part of it."

Angela put her arms around Ellie and hugged her tightly. "El, they are proud of you no matter what you do," she said confidently because she knew it was true. Opie had wanted out of club that had not only killed his father, but his wife as well. He'd wanted out, and he'd gotten his out in the worse way imaginable.

"You think?"

She nodded, kissing Ellie's temple. "I know," she replied, smiling as a genuine smile spread across Ellie's face. "Now let's go get something to munch on. I'm starving!"

-------------------

Juice walked into his house with a heavy heart. Watching Clay get his tattoos blacked out was a clear example of what would happen to him should his transgressions ever be brought to the table. He looked down at the reaper on his arm, imagining Happy's tattoo gun digging into it using the same violent strokes he'd used to black out Clay's. Sighing, he headed back to his bedroom feeling exhausted mentally and physically. It'd been weeks since he'd gotten a good night's sleep. The door to his bedroom was slightly open, as it usually was when Angela went to bed without him. It was her silent invitation for him to join her. He'd found the door shut tightly just a handful of times on the nights he really messed up, the nights he spent on the couch. He was thankful this was not one of those nights. He needed to be near her at the moment, needed her calming presence to get his head straight.

Pushing open the door, he found Angela already asleep, curled around a body sized pillow, her swollen belly resting on it. He frowned, sizing up his side of the bed that was being impinged upon by the massive pillow. Carefully, he snaked it away from her, smiling slightly when she groaned in her sleep. Her dark eyes opened as he threw himself onto the bed next to her. "Where's my pillow?" she moaned, rubbing a hand over her belly.

He scooted closer to her, pulling her into him. "Here," he said, moving underneath her so her belly was resting on his side and her head on his shoulder. She moved her leg over his, snuggling in closer. His fingers tangled into her hair, stroking through the soft strands as he relaxed. "Who needs a pillow when you got me?"

She let out a soft, content sigh as she nuzzled his chest. "I do," she answered, a sleepy smile on her face. "You're too...hard."

Juice chuckled, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "That's what she said."

Angela laughed lightly, the sound of it vibrating through his chest and making him smile wider. God, he loved this girl. Her fingers traced lazily over his tattoo of her name, reminding him of what he'd seen earlier that night. Catching her hand in his own, he laced their fingers together. Her brows furrowed together in confusion for a moment. "What?"

"Hap blacked out Clay's tattoos tonight," he replied, his fingers tracing over the tattoo on her hip. The koi fish was perfectly angled so that it didn't stretch with her burgeoning belly. He wondered if Hap had thought about that when he'd done it.

"Huh," she said, distractedly. "Was wonderin' what Hap was doing with the tat machine. That had to suck. Clay's reaper was big."

Juice nodded in agreement. "Hap was packin' in that black too. No mercy."

She grimaced at the thought of it. "Ouch."

"Your koi is the only tat you have right? I didn't miss any?" he asked, jokingly. He'd seen every inch of Angela's skin, had it ingrained in his head. There was no hiding anything from him when it came to her body.

"Just the one," she answered on a laugh. "It's the only one Hap ever approved of."

He was surprised by her explanation. From what he'd heard, his girl had been quite the rebel when she was younger. It was beyond him why she hadn't gotten more. "Why didn't you just go to someone else?"

"I never really wanted anyone else to tattoo me," she admitted on a shrug. "I grew up with him drawing on me, watching him sketch, watching him tattoo...having someone else's work on me for the rest of my life just felt...wrong. Y'know?"

Juice smiled; his girl was loyal to a fault especially when it came to Happy. "Yeah," he said, tangling his hand back into her hair. As if he just remembered something, he reached out a hand and opened up his side drawer. "Speakin' of tats, I got somethin' for you."

Angela's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

He handed over the little red, leather box, studying the emotions on her face. He could see the apprehension in her eyes as they focused on the jewelry box. It was obvious she'd jumped to her own conclusions. "Don't freak out. It's not a ring," he assured her, though she still looked nervous about it. She relaxed when he opened the box. Juice didn't know whether to be hurt she was so relieved it wasn't a ring or grateful she wasn't disappointed by what was inside. Inside was a necklace he'd found, ironically enough, while searching for engagement rings. A silver bird skull, just a bit bigger than a quarter. He'd taken it to the jewelers to get his initials engraved on the front of it.

"A crow," she stated softly, taking the box from his hand. "Right?"

He nodded, watching as she gingerly took it out of the box, the silver chain spilling over her tan fingers. It complimented her skin tone nicely, as he knew it would. "I didn't get the chance to give you my crow before, and I know...I know there's no studies that say pregnant ladies can't get tats but a lot of people say it could be bad for the baby so I figured this was a good alternative."

Angela tilted her head back so their eyes could meet. "It's beautiful, Juice. I love it," she said sincerely. She sat up with a groan before lifting her hair up with one hand and handing him the necklace. "Help me put it on?"

Juice sat up and gently put it around her neck, clipping the latch in the back. It probably would be uncomfortable for her while she slept, but he was grateful she liked it enough to put it on anyway. She turned so he could see how it looked. With a wide smile, he nodded his approval. The pointed beak of the crow ended just before the valley of her breasts. Leaning forward, he nuzzled the necklace aside with his nose before burying his face in her chest and making obnoxious motorboating noises.

Her laughter filled the room as her hands ghosted over the sides of his head. "Goof! Get out of there! Those are for Monk!" she exclaimed, though she made no move to push him away.

"Sorry, Mama. Couldn't resist," he said, lifting his head and grinning up at her, totally unashamed.

She grinned back at him, her hands moving to frame his face. "I love you, Juan Carlos," she murmured, putting her forehead to his. "You know that?"

He nodded. He did know that. She'd proved it to him on more than one occasion. "Love you too," he replied kissing her softly. He sighed heavily as he ended the kiss, his mind drifting towards what was going to happen in the morning. Glancing down, he caught her curious expression before she could mask it. It was rare she flat out asked what was going on with the club, choosing instead to wait for him to explain. "We're takin' down Clay tomorrow," he told her, feeling a slight weight ease off his shoulders. The plan was a secret kept between him, Jax, and Gemma. The other two didn't feel the need to talk about it, but he needed some reassurance and Angela was always good for that.

Angela's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Jax has this...this elaborate plan, and I'm..."

"A key player," she finished, on a frown. "Are you...are you going to be okay doing this, Juice?"

Juice was surprised by the worry in her voice, the hint of doubt. She'd never doubted him like that before. He'd confided in her with expectation that she'd be all for it; that she'd be cheering him on or proud of him. He didn't think she'd ever ask if he was going to be okay. "Yeah. Why?" he asked, his brows furrowed together. "You don't think I can do it?"

Angela's response came without a moment of hesitation. "I have no doubt you can do it," she assured him. "I just worry about how it's going to affect you in the long run. I know you and Clay are close and I don't...I don't want you blaming yourself for whatever happens to him. This isn't on you, Juice. Its on Jax."

"I know," he said, trying to sound like he did. "I'm doin' it for you and Monk. I want to be there for my girls."

"You will be." She smiled softly at him, catching his lips in another quick kiss before relaxing against him.

After a moment, Juice felt her breathing even out as she fell asleep. Sleep eluded him, though. He kept going over the plan in his mind, wondering if what he was doing was the right thing. Turning in Clay to save his own ass didn't sit well with him. This was the man who'd always been there for him. Who'd offered him a home and a family when he was down on his luck and he was repaying him with a one way ticket to jail. His fingers trailed over Angela's soft skin pensively. He tried to relax, to fall asleep, but he kept circling back to the moment when Clay had thanked him for being there for him. All the times he'd called him brother or son. He rubbed a hand over his face, his eyes on the fan blades on the ceiling, watching as they lazily turned. It was going to be a long night.

-------------------

Angela woke up with a groan as her daughter landed a very hard kick to her back. That was a feeling she'd never get used to. Monk was active as hell in the early morning making it damn hard to sleep in. It was another reason she couldn't wait to get that little sucker out of her. She wasn't one of those women who loved being pregnant like Tara had. Her large belly prevented her from doing the things she loved like running, working, riding on the back of Juice's motorcycle, sleeping...the list went on. She wanted her daughter out of her as soon as possible. Secretly, she couldn't wait to be a mother, couldn't wait to be able to hold her kid and teach her things, see her playing with her father. She had no doubt Juice was going to be an amazing dad.

She looked over at his sleeping form, studying his face. He looked so innocent in this state, his face rid of its worry lines and fearful expressions. It reminded her of the way he looked when they'd first met, and he'd been all smiles and laughter. Without the darkness that had slowly started to extinguish that light of his that once shone so brightly. It'd started when he'd gotten out of county and had only gotten worse as things with the club started getting more dangerous.

These days she felt like she was waiting on bated breath to get that call from him that told her he wouldn't be coming home. That Jax had decided to bring his transgressions to the table, and he'd never be home again. He swore to her Jax had a new plan, that things would be okay, but she didn't believe him. Things kept falling through, turning to shit. Everything Jax was doing seemed to put him in more danger. And even if Jax did have a plan to turn in Clay, she knew it would turn out well for him. He'd be alive, sure, but the guilt of turning in Clay would eat at him for the rest of his life. The last time he had the kind of guilt on his shoulders, he'd tried to kill himself. She could still see that deep bruise on his neck from the chain. He'd done that after killing Miles, a brother he didn't care much about. She could only imagine what the repercussions of turning in Clay, a man he looked to as a father, would be.

-------------------

Juice opened the door to his little locker in the TM garage to grab Clay's gun that he'd locked inside for safe keeping. He hesitated as he went to grab it, nerves making him feel uneasy. Doubt pooled in his stomach; maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He looked around briefly, wondering if anyone was paying attention to him. No one seemed to be, though. Clay was too busy cleaning out his tools while the other TM workers were working on a car. He turned back to the locker, the two pictures he had taped on the door catching his eye and reminding him of why he was doing this. One was a picture of Angela taken the night of Lyla and Opie's wedding, the other was the first sonogram they'd gotten after Mel had taken her. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the bundled gun, careful not to put his fingerprints on any part of it. Clay had to be the last person to touch it or Jax's plan wouldn't work. He tucked it into Jax's saddle bag, his eyes on Clay who was thankfully more focused on his tool box than on what he was doing. Closing the saddlebag, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, telling himself he had to do it. This was for his girls.