Caleb tasted his own blood as it dripped into his mouth. He quickly pushed aside the copper tasting liquid and focused on his target. A drunk idiot who made fun of him one too many times for being a prospect and not patched in.

That didn't bother him.

It was when he mention how Abel, was patched in at an even younger age then he was now, and that he has promise to become President one day that threw Caleb over the edge.

Growing up, they were treated equal.

But they weren't.

His father, Jax, taught them things at the same time. Abel always picked up on it quicker. His mother, Tara, loved them equally but always lingered a little longer next to Abel's bed after reading them both a bedtime story.

His story was unknown.

No one knew him.

The real him.

What did they care?

They had Abel.

He loved his brother. But he also resented him.

The biker who fell after Caleb punched him clean in the jaw charged at him again. Caleb swiftly stepped aside avoiding the man. He crashed himself into the bar. Rubbing his head, Caleb saw anger burst from his eyes, and without thinking he charged at him again.

Caleb was ready.

He grabbed him the drunk man and tossed him down to the floor.

His ran his fists repeatedly into the man's face until there was blood on his hands and it wasn't his own.

Nick, Opie's second son and Caleb's best friend, ran over to him and pulled him away.

"Stop, man. I think he gets it."

The doors to the clubhouse burst open in rage. Jax stood, with his jaw clenched, aiming his gaze at his son.

"Caleb!" Jax yelled.

The bar stood still. No one moved. No one spoke.

"Let's go." His tone suggested that he didn't argue with his father. Especially in front of the other SONS.

Caleb shrugged off the weight of a thousand gazes as he walked outside.

The blinding sun made him squint, and he cursed as he did.

His lip was swollen and hard to move.

And then he saw the reason why he fought to begin with.

There, resting against his bike a few feet away, was Abel. He was a spitting image of their father. His long shaggy blond hair, his square jaw line and even his demeanor was identical.

From the back, it was hard to tell them apart.

Caleb was the complete opposite.

He looked like his mother. Right down to the brown hair and slightly smaller build.

"What are you looking at?" Caleb said, his jaw clenched.

"Nothing." Abel crossed his arms, tired of his little brother's antics.

"Home. Now." Jax said.

That wasn't a suggestion.

Tara and Gemma were setting the table when the Teller boys walked in. Jax looked at his wife and shook his head before walking into the backyard. Abel kissed his mother and grandmother hello before going into his room.

Caleb simply stood there.

"Caleb, what happened to your face?" Panic rose in Tara's voice as she rushed over to him to inspect it.

She was a pediatric surgeon. One of the best.

Feeling like a little kid, he shrugged away from her touch.

At twenty, he wasn't little anymore.

Tara shook her head in dissapproval, but walked away leaving him in silence. Gemma walked over and smiled at him. She wrapped him tight in her arms, not caring if he wanted a hug.

"Like father, like son." She kissed his cheek. "Now, go get washed up for dinner. We're having company."

It was then that he realized he hadn't ate all day. His stomach began to growl as he started the shower.

Steam rose and fogged the windows. He took his time knowing he would hear it from his father when he got out.

You're embarrassing me…I'm the president…What's wrong with you…blah blah blah…

His grandfather retired but still hung around to help Jax make big decisions.

Like, who could be patched in.

He stepped out of the shower and into his bedroom. Caleb threw down his leather vest and stared at the one word that was burned into his mind. Prospect. It was a word that held no guarantee.

Possibly no future.

But his brother had a future. And as usual, it was looking bright.

He heard a commotion of voices as he made his way into the living room.

Opie and his family were there. Donna kissed Caleb hello. Nick pounded him on the back. Caleb tried, but failed, not to look for her.

His heart skipped a beat when she walked in.

Layla, Opie's daughter, smiled in greeting and the world disappeared.

Caleb looked away quickly and took his place at the table. Frowning, Layla sat next to her brother. Abel helped Clay put food on his plate. His hands were acting up again.

Soon, the group settled into easy chatter as they caught up on life.

After, the men went outside to smoke cigars and the women began to make coffee and bring out dessert.

"Caleb," Abel walked up to his brother cautiously. "How's your face."

"It hurts like hell."

Abel smiled. It caught Layla's attention. Abel never had a problem getting a date. That enraged Caleb further.

"Next time, wait for back up. I'll help you." Abel meant it with good intentions, Caleb knew, but he still shook his head.

"In case you haven't noticed, I did alright on my own." He glanced toward Layla who was still in the kitchen.

"Alright." Abel dropped the subject.

Dessert passed quickly and everyone was about to leave.

Time went by too fast when she was around, Caleb thought. And then quickly pushed that thought aside.

As his mother was loading trays of food into her friend's car and his father was pre-occupied talking to Ope, Caleb figured now would be a good time to escape. He made his way to his room to grab his vest before she caught up to him.

He jolted to a stop once he turned around and saw who was standing in his doorway.

"Hi Caleb." She smiled shyly. He could easily remember the dozens of times they played together. There was no tension between them. Not like there was now. It was undeniable.

And it sucked.

"My friends and I are about to catch a movie. I was wondering if you, um, maybe…" She struggled to find her words.

He would do anything to go out with her. His whole life, he had wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips that were now quivering with nerves.

But he would never let her know that.

He didn't want her to know that she needed him.

Caleb Teller needed no one.

"I can't. Have stuff to do."

He hated himself for watching her face droop in disappointment, knowing that he was the cause of it. "Maybe next time."

She looked down.

"Yea."

He walked past her and got on his bike. The night air brought with it a cool breeze. He had somewhere to be. Something to do. And no one was going to stop him this time.

Snapping his helmet shut, he sped off into the night.

He could hear his father scream his name.

And he didn't care.

He kept driving, until there was silence.