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"So, who is he?" Max asked as she came down to the small room they were holding the unknown man in.

"No idea, he doesn't seem like those at the gate," replied the panther man, who had been posted as guard to their 'visitor'.

Max clenched her jaw. "How did he get in?"

There was no response from anyone in the room.

"Find out – I want that hole plugged ASAP."

Logan looked at the man; he was tied to a chair. Whoever he was, he hadn't broken eye contact with Max since she had come into the room, working out that the others considered her in charge.

"What do you want?" Max asked the man as she loosened his hands and handed him a bottle of water. He took a second, seeming concerned that Logan had started going through the things that had been taken from him.

He turned back to Max. "Where is he?"

"Who?" Max replied.

"You know who – where is he?"

Max knotted her brow. "Alec? You mean Alec?"

"Is that his name?" the man asked. "Where is he?"

"Why do you want him?" Max replied.

Logan stopped searching. "Max, you may want to look at this."

She turned to him. "What?"

She took a couple of steps to the table where Logan had emptied the bag of supplies that their intruder had brought with him. He had an old battered picture in his hand – a photograph of two teenagers, both as tall as each other, though one looked at least a couple of years younger than the other.

The man stood up, looking as though he was resisting the urge to launch himself at them. "Don't you touch that!"

Max turned to him. "Where did you get this?"

"That's none of your business," the man spat out.

She swallowed. "Please, can you tell me where you got this?"

"I took it."

She looked shocked at his response; had this man known her brother? "You knew him? You knew Ben?"

He sat back down before saying anything. "Where is this 'Alec'?"

"How did you know Ben?"

"Max, can I talk to you?" Logan interrupted.

She stepped away, still watching their mystery intruder from the corner of her eye. "What?"

Logan handed her the picture. "Look at it."

"So, it's Ben and some other kid," she replied.

"No, Max, not who's in the picture. Look at it."

"So what? It's old."

"Yes, but how old?"

She looked at it: it was careworn and faded, but it had been taken care of. "I don't know."

Logan looked over at the man before turning back to her. "I can't say for sure, but I'd say that that picture is pre-pulse."

"What?"

"I think that picture is more than fifteen years old – probably more like twenty – and if I'm right, then there is no way that kid could be either Ben or Alec."

"So who is it, then?" Max asked, looking back at the man sitting in the chair behind her.

"No idea, but I'm guessing there is one person that will be able to get some answers out of him."

Alec sighed as he entered the room; he could see the man tense at his presence.

"Look, they've all got this idea that I can get you to talk, so either you do or you don't, but can you make up your mind quick, I've got other things I need to be doing."

Alec could see the man was weighing him up, and he pulled up a chair, turning it around so he could rest him arms on the back

"Your arm?" the man said.

Alec glanced over at the bandage covering his healing wound; it was creating a slight bulge under his shirt. "Didn't duck when I should have."

He smiled. "Bullets are a pain like that."

"Yeah, they are. So, you going to give or what? 'Cause I'm not exactly in the mood for a long drawn-out thing right now."

"You got the same attitude that he did." The man looked Alec straight in the eye as he said it.

Alec nodded. He'd been shown the picture of a younger version himself and another teenager.

"Did you thought I was him?" Alec asked.

"No," the man answered stoically.

"Where is he?"

"You tell me."

Alec shrugged. "Can we start this again? We kinda got off on the wrong foot, what with you with the gun, me with the small army at my back. I'm 494, or you can call me Alec, if you like."

"I'll take Alec, if you don't mind."

"Fine. And you are?"

"John, my name is John Winchester."

"Right, John, if you ain't one of those whack jobs, and you know I'm not the one in the picture, why are you here?"

"Saw you on the news," John replied. "Needed to know why you had his face."

"So why can't you ask him? Don't know where he is?" Alec enquired.

John shook his head, and Alec got the feeling that there was a world of hurt going on inside the man.

"What happened?"

John shrugged, not answering the question.

"What about the other guy in the picture? Does he know?" Alec asked.

"Sam," John said quietly.

"Can't you ask him?"

John looked at the floor solemnly. They sat there in silence for a few moments before John answered, "No."

"Him too, huh? When?" Alec asked.

"2007. Don't know what happened, they just… were gone."

Alec clenched his jaw. "Right, and what were they to you?"

John's head snapped up, fire in his eyes.

"Your children?" Alec asked. "Your sons?"

"Yes."

"And you've been looking for them ever since?" Alec asked. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something inside of him was hurting, and he couldn't fathom why.

There was someone who looked like him, who had disappeared, and he had had someone who hadn't given up, kept looking even after all these years. This feeling he was having had nothing to do with the current situation, nothing to do with the siege.

Alec supposed the closest thing he could compare it to was the feeling of jealousy he got when he saw ordinaries walking happily down the street, when he saw someone who had a better hand a poker, or the anger he felt with himself when one of his scams went wrong.

Alec couldn't say that he had any experience that could compare to a father-son bond. But, Alec had family: his unit, before he had been torn away from them for solo missions; then there was Joshua and Sketchy, closest thing he had to brothers; and Max and Cindy, his sisters. There was Logan and Normal, though they were more like those annoying relatives that turned up at reunions. But not a father or a mother.

Okay, maybe Max shouldn't really be classed in the sister category – especially seeing how often he'd checked out her ass.

Hey, he was a guy – and she had one fine ass – if she didn't want him to look then she shouldn't walk in front of him. She was more like a second cousin, once-removed by marriage to a great uncle who he never saw and no-one really remembers anyway. And why was he thinking about this, right now?

"What do you know?" he asked.

"Not much, just that they disappeared along with my wife's girl. One day the three of them where there, and the next, gone."

"And they hadn't just taken off?" Alec asked.

John shook his head. "No, they wouldn't have, their things were still there. Molly was… so much blood."

"Blood?" Alec didn't like the sound where this was going.

John stilled, not wanting to say anything else.

"Who's Molly, was she all right?"

"She's fine," John said through gritted teeth. It was obvious that he didn't have the energy to make something up.

Alec silently handed over the picture to him, and he took it, looking down at it before putting it in his inside pocket.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," Alec said, getting up to leave. "What was his name, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Dean, his name was Dean."

"So?" Sketchy asked as Alec came back to the others.

"Just some guy who's lost his kids – and I look like one of them," Alec said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Says they disappeared about fifteen years ago."

"How did he know to come here?" Max asked.

"Guess he saw the news – Jam Pony and your entrance, Max, has been pretty much been the lead for the past week," Alec replied.

"So, he lost his kids and thought you might know something?"

Alec shrugged. "Just seems like a desperate guy who had something really bad happen to his kids."

"What are you guys going to do with him?" Sketchy asked.

"Hell if I know," Max said.