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ONE WEEK LATER

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"Did you know that Jensen was one of them? Do you know that you have him locked up in one of those cages!" Jensen's father yells as he walks into an office, waving around arms. He dons a military suit of tan camouflage. He stomps loudly in his heavy boots. His eyes dart around in an irate manner. 

"Talk to me!" He screams and kicks the chair in front of him so it hits the wall with a clash. One of the wooden arms flies off.

A man sits at the desk in front of him. He remains still and silent, his eyes not moving from his monitor. The sound of furious typing is all he gets in return.

"Hey!" He yells when he doesn't receive a response immediately. He bangs his fist on the desk, causing it to shake.

The man sitting at a desk across from him stops typing and looks up from his computer. His facial features were almost identical to the man in front of him--the high cheekbones, sunken cheeks, and strong nose solidify their relation.

He crosses his arms, making his navy button-up wrinkle. A badge hangs around his neck but is blocked by his arms. He raises his black eyebrows, causing more wrinkles to form on his face. The wrinkles on his forehead reach his dark grey, thinning hairline.

"Yeah," he says, bluntly.

Jensen's father stills for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "What?" He asks him in disbelief. "What did you just say?" His voice drops an octave and steps closer to the desk.

The other man rolls his eyes. "Of course I knew, John. What do you think I'm doing here?" He retorts boredly as he stares up at his brother.

"He's your nephew, Lee. " He glares down at him in disgust.

Lee rolls his eyes at his statement. "Don't start that. You forget that I'm the head of security here. I know what you said to your son." He motions around his hands for emphasis.

"But you're not like me, Lee. You're not supposed to be like this. I am. I'm the one who screws everything up every chance I get."

"Cut the bullshit, John." Lee stops him from going on any longer. "We both know you said those things to him because you can't stand showing anything resembling love to a human being." He rolls his eyes again. "Your son is a Lynx--a very dangerous and very supernatural creature." He waves around his hands. "Emphasis on creature." He points his index finger up. "I have to do my job, John, no matter what creature," he pauses to make a pointed expression, "I have to capture in order to keep us safe. You said so yourself. It's my duty."

He brushes his hands together and leans back. "So, you do your job and I'll do mine."

John stares at his brother with a deadly look on his face. "I regret what I said," he tells him. "And—I don't need to explain my reason to you. But trust me, I had reasons." He slams his hands down onto the desk, causing it to shake for the second time.

Lee scoots back in his chair and crosses his arms, his brother's actions not fazing him.

"Does Jensen not count as 'us', now? I don't care about the rest of them. I just want my son!" He pleads to him, vulnerability seeping through his words.

Lee raises his eyebrows once more. "So you'll completely comply and won't ask any questions if I just release him?" He asks him, pondering the possibility in his head.

John nods his head reluctantly, even though he knows what he's just proposed is selfish to the other kids. But that's not his priority right now. He watches his brother's mouth twitch and his dark eyes glaze over, deep in thought.

"Please, Lee." John begs. "Help me protect what's left of our family."

Lee stays quiet.

"We were not raised this way and yet what have we become?" John sighs.

Lee shrugs his shoulders. "Alright, but if he makes any trouble, or you make any trouble, I can't guarantee what my superiors will do," he says.

Relief floods over John. He visibly relaxes. "Okay," he says. He goes to turn around, but pauses and looks back at his brother. "Thanks, Lee..." he tells him shortly before swiftly exiting the room.

John saunters through the winding halls and steep staircases, eventually reaching his destination. He pushes through the door that he entered a week ago today, and the buzzing of a cage opening fills his ears. He continues to walk forward at his quick, steady pace, ignoring the glares and surprised looks from the kids as he passes by them.

Jensen faces his dad. Both of them stand completely still, neither speaking at first.

"Let's go, Jensen," John tells his son firmly, keeping down a smile, as he steps back, motioning for his son to follow him.

Jensen doesn't move as he watches his father's pleading eyes urge him to go with him. "What about them?" He asks, though he already knows the answer.

"They still want them. But if you come with me, there will be a chance that I could persuade them to let them out eventually." John's voice comes out firm, but his eyes betray him. He frowns as his son stares back at him, contemplating the possibilities.

"Okay," Jensen finally says. He steps out of the cement block that he had become familiar with and follows his dad.

As Jensen passes Tony, he gives him a slight nod, signaling that the fight isn't over. He does that same as he passes Alec's cell, giving him the same message.

Daisy, Tony, and Alec all stand in their cells, facing the direction in which they saw their friend go. They all share the same feeling that this is their spark of hope that they had been waiting for.

John leads Jensen to the office that had been given to him when he signed on board with Purpose International. As soon as the door closes, he's bombarded with questions, just like he expected would happen.

"What's going on? Why was I the only one let out? What's going to happen to them? Who are you working for?" Jensen demands, his tone hostile and angry.

John keeps his back turned to him as he walks behind his desk. He stares out the glass wall, his eyes tracing the city's skyline, watching the sun set behind the buildings. If only I could tell you. After a minute, he reluctantly turns around to face his son. "I can't, Jensen," he mutters and sits down in his chair.

Jensen squints at the sudden sunlight in his eyes when his father sits. "Why not?" he asks using a slightly softer tone than before. "Dad," he whispers, the word foreign on his tongue.

He looks up to meet his son's pleading gaze.

"Please, Dad."

John sighs and shakes his head. He taps his fingers on the side of his chair. "You just have to trust me, Jensen. I can't tell you anything." He huffs. "You're lucky I even got you out of there!" His frustration builds as he continues. "Shouldn't I be the one asking the questions? Like maybe how I didn't know that my own son was a Supernatural!"

The small office is silent for a few moments as the two Wilder men stare at one another, both breathing heavy. Their eyes display a blazing fire behind them. They wait for who will break away fist. Their glares dare the other to back down. 

Jensen shakes his head and scoffs at the man he calls his father. "You didn't know because you never paid attention." His voice falters and he moves his gaze to above his father's head at the city skyline. "Because you never cared."

"Jensen--"

"Don't." He cuts him off. "Where's Eomma?"

John sighs. "At home."

"Is she safe?"

"Yes," John says. "She knows nothing. And for now, it's going to stay that way."

Jensen nods. "And Hannah? Kai?"

"They're safe too. Don't worry."

Jensen scoffs. "If only you cared about my safety. Like, where did you even think I was this whole time?"

John is silent for a moment. "I'm so sorry."

Jensen's worst fear is confirmed. His father never even noticed. He wonders if his mother or siblings had too. A sharp pain aches in his stomach and a deep sadness enters his heart. All he can do is nod.

John stays silent as he looks at Jensen standing in front of him—distraught on his face, sadness in his eyes, and the reflection of himself in his son's heart. I never wanted this for you. I have done to you what my father did to me—I've become him, he realizes.

Jensen's eyes stay trained above him, not daring to look down. A faint pain aches in his chest from his son's words. It's not only that it hurt because his son thought this, but it hurt the most because it's true. It is undeniably true.

"I know. I'm sorry," John says, sighing. "But I'm here now. And I'm never going to let them touch you again." His voice cracks. He clears his throat and coughs, trying to cover up the fact.

Jensen finally looks down to meet his father's gaze. He is surprised to find sadness and pain in his father's eyes, telling him that what he is saying is true. His eyes widen and his mouth parts, sucking in a sharp breath. He shakes his head and purses his lips together.

"If you can't answer any of my questions, then I'm going to find some answers," Jensen finally says and turns on his heel, ready to walk out of the room. He grabs the handle of the door and turns to look at his dad one last time before leaving. "I'll be back," he says quietly and pulls the door open.

Jensen walks down the halls of the large building, not knowing where he's going, but following a feeling in his gut. His feet lead him up a few floors and outside of a door.

He comes to a stop outside and raises his fist, but stops when he hears faint noises coming from inside. He takes a small step forward and leans his head close to the wood to try to hear what's going on inside. He hears the low murmuring of voices and steps even closer, leaning his ear flat against the door now.

"I did what I thought to be in our best interest. He can't and won't ask any questions or snoop around, I promise you that. This will keep him quiet and agreeable," a man's voice tells someone.

The other person replies, but Jensen can't hear what they're saying.

"With all due respect, Sir, Jensen is the least of our worries. I don't think this is worth our time and energy."

Jensen's heart skips a beat at the mention of his name. They are talking about him. He slowly backs away from the door and places his hand a couple of inches from the doorknob. All he has to do is reach forward slightly, to reveal the people behind the door, and get some answers.

His hand lingers above the knob and then he grabs it and opens the door before he can stop himself. He pushes it open and the first thing he sees is the startled expression of a man who has familiar black hair. "Uncle Lee?" He gasps and freezes in his step. His entire body tenses and his eyes narrow in disbelief at the older Wilder man standing before him.

Lee opens his mouth to say something to his nephew, but before he can, a gunshot fires, stopping him from even getting a syllable out.

Jensen drops to the ground, quickly catches his Uncle when he falls. His knees hit the floor, hard, pain shoots up his thighs, the weight of his uncle causing a more painful impact. He holds the limp, dead body of his uncle's in his arms.

Blood trickles down Lee's head and parts in lines across his face, creating a red maze in the wrinkles on his forehead.

Jensen's body shakes.

"You have unfortunate timing," a flat, cold, voice says and sighs.

Jensen's now glowing orange eyes dart up from his uncle to the other figure in the room.

With his back turned to him, a man with auburn hair wearing a black suit walks toward the other exit in the room and quietly escapes without a word.

Jensen jumps up, carefully setting his uncle's head on the ground, and sprints to the other side of the room. He yanks the door open and jumps out into the middle of a hallway. His head swivels and his orange eyes scan the perimeter, looking past the walls and through doors.

The man in the suit is nowhere to be found, almost as if he just vanished into thin air.

A hand touches Jensen's shoulders, causing him to jump and twist around, raising his hands, balled into fists, defensively.

His father raises his hands up in surrender.

Jensen drops his hands and sighs in relief.

"Are you okay? I heard a gunshot," John asks him.

Jensen's eyes turn back to brown and lower to the ground. "I am... but Uncle Lee isn't," he whispers, his gaze on his feet.

John's eyes find the open door behind his son. He walks around him and sees the feet of a man lying on the floor. He lets out a gasp. "Oh my God."

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The harsh scrapes of claws against the cement floor echoes in the room of cells. Alec glares at the ground as he drags his index finger along the ground. He finishes tracing the outline of a bird and draws a circle around it. The scrapes get louder as he presses harder at the end of the circle.

He blows gently on his sketch and readies his claw on one of the wings of the bird. Going clockwise, he roughly draws out the symbols representing each of the supernatural species.

The lines on Daisy's forehead relax as the scraping ceases. Her hands that were clenched in fists loosen at her sides as her entire body becomes less tense. She lets out a small sigh and lets her body fall slack against the wall she was already propped upon. She doesn't say anything because she knows Alec would probably just lash out at her—and, it's been a rough week for him especially. He lost a lot of his pack. Whatever makes him feel better, even if it makes her want to claw her ears out, she'll put up with it.

In the cell next to his brother's, Tony sits with his head against the wall, his knees close to his chest. He traces little clouds on the floor and stares blankly at the ground, not looking at what his fingers are doing.

A buzz rings out in the room, but none of them move. All of the cell doors raise slightly and three guards push trays of food and a water bottle under each of the slim gaps. The bars lower again and each of the young adults lazily grab their food and reluctantly eat, knowing good and well if they don't, Alec would fuss at them like the alpha he is—and their meals are small and sparse. In order to keep their energy, it's important that they eat every chance they get.

Daisy stares at the sandwich in her hand, her mind on Jensen. She wonders if he is okay and when, or if, he will come back for them.