Alex isn't one to back down when the going get's tough. He's a harden military man and he isn't afraid to let his colours show when he needs to. Despite his age he isn't about to let anyone young or old get the best of him, it's his strong and good hearted nature that makes him who he is, and it can attribute to the rest of his personality as it's core. The base of Alex is strength, courage, valor, and he wants to give it to the world if he can but more importantly the daughters, the one he knows, and the one he doesn't yet.
Alex is protective, maybe over-protective but he tries not to be overbearing or too caught up in someone's personal life so it balances it out. As long as those he swears to protect and love are being safe, then he has no qualms. But as soon as someone threatens, hurts, strikes, it's when Alex threatens, hurts, and strikes back with a fury of the entire American army wrapped up in one sixty year oldish man.
He isn't one for a grand display of heroics but he's always there when he's needed and never backs down if something gets too hairy or risky. He's stubborn like that and perhaps it runs in the family. He's not one to just let things go on without him, despite his age he isn't slow nor weak. When someone tells him to stand aside, he's more likely to headbutt them and tell them to stand aside.
To his daughters he might seem loving and caring, to other's he can be a sarcastic grump a lot of the times. He mostly wants to spend his free time minding his own, he reads but very rarely and he's very nitpicky with his books. He mostly just likes cracking a brew and go out fishing, which is probably his favourite passtime. He imagines that when he dies, it'll be like going fishing except he won't ever have to go back and he won't be interrupted.
Generally to spirits and his powers he treats it as an old and annoying friend, he doesn't make a big deal about it because he's learned to except it for what it is. Part of him. It's his nature, it's not foreign to him nor is it supernatural to him. It's just simply just one of many parts of who he is. The only thing he does have a problem with is his spirit animal, which is a Duck. He has yet to learn his true name, so he calls it Quakers (Orignal), if or not he actually hates it is up for debate but he makes loathing gestures and remarks when it does.
Alex hasn't changed much over the past year or so after the apocalypse, when he was given the position to lead the Hounds however the spectrum of his feelings have increased. He treats everyone on the team as if they were his own children, people to protect and people to make sure played it cool and safe.
His jurisdictional powers and his ability to super pass almost every authoritative government branch gives him a small satisfaction that he is the man sticking it to the man, fighting fire with a bigger fire so to speak.
His love for his daughters couldn't be greater, especially Sully who of course before was being put into danger by her profession but was now being put into danger because of him- needless to say his fatherly instincts work on over drive when it comes to his oldest especially knowing what she's been through to get here.
Alex Jackson O'Neill was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota January 23rd 1950 to a Janet O'Neill and an unknown father. When he was growing up, his mother told him that his father went off to fight in the Korean war in defense with South Korea against North Korea but she never caught his name. She was a love struck young girl with a love child that she adored, because it was token of a love that was passionate, and despite short lived, will forever remain solid in her memory and live on forever there.
Growing up wasn't easy financially but he and his mother had each other, and honestly being as wise as he was in his young age Alex understood that's all he needed. Sure he didn't have a father figure, but wandering around their quiet neighborhood playing in the streets he had father figures all around. If it had been James that ran the deli store or that elderly Mr. Hendricks from across the street. Alex was given his life lessons by those he surrounded himself with, and it was a village who raised a child that would later follow in his father's footsteps and become a solder.
It wasn't a hard decision for Alex. He was well behaved in school but he wasn't the smartest, therefore when the choice to join the military was an option at eighteen he had to take it. Once he graduated, he told his mom his idea and although she wasn't really thrilled with the whole thing she understood where his heart lay, as she once fell in love with a man just like that.
Military life wasn't easy at first, he was pushed around a lot and he took a lot of shit but as was life. He showed that he could however be pushed around, and could take shit, and not be pushed around and take shit from the enemies and sooner or later he became Captain which shortly after dissolved into Colonel with a mission in an undisclosed location in Eastern Europe.
During his twentieth birthday he started to see weird and strange things, solders he had killed in the corner of his eye, commands that had fallen. Bizarre whispers in the wind. He had heard that his grandfather on his mothers side was ailed with something like this before they put him a way in a loony bin, but it was in the middle of an Afghan desert when he saw a duck traverse the sands did he start questioning his sanity. However, lucky for him that duck lead him right to a helicopter containing American troops that had been shot down a day ago waiting for rescue and Alex was the one to bring them home.
He began looking into his grandfather who claimed to have been gifted with Shamansitic powers, everyone just thought he was insane. Alex decided to go the extra mile to see if this were actually true, and while doing so he opened a can of worms that he wasn't about to use to go fishing.
At first his powers were a simple viewing of show and tell, and then they began speaking and demanding for peace, for him to relay messages to their loved ones and he tried to do this for a few years and play Ghost Whisperer (A television show he later laughed at when it actually came on air) but he soon gave up. They were noisy, rowdy, and annoying. It seemed like he was in a neighborhood where every neighbor was equally as annoying as the next. Eventually they gave up, as he willed it so. They left him. His hold over them wasn't exactly a new thing, but it had evolved to the point where he could ask a spirit to fetch him a glass of water and it would to the best of it's abilities. He didn't abuse this too much, as it was borderline afterlife slavery but there were times when it became useful. He tried not to tether them too long, as it tends to make them angry and spirits aren't really all that kind when they're angry.
As the years went by the military became his life, and little room was left for socializing. So when it came time for him to actually take a break he had no where to go. His one buddy suggested that he spend his time in New Mexico because apparently there was some mean game in Albuquerque. Thinking this was a joke, he figured he'd spend the time to go all the way there find a dry hole and take a picture of it to send back to his friend but he actually did find some good fishing begrudgingly, though he still aimed to take that picture.
While at a local bar in Albuquerque in 1982, he aimed to find a pothole nearby he can take a picture of to send back to his buddy in the military. There was a beautiful native woman there by the name of Anna Sungti. He himself being part Mohawk decided to start up a conversation, though regardless of that the only stuff he knew about the Mohawks where the little tidbits he read up on his grandfather that weren't very conversation worthy. But he didn't seem to need a conversation starter because it seemed like Anna was aiming for something a little more lower below the belt.
Their night together was a passionate one, and he'd later like to recall it was filled with love to some extent. He did feel that, in his heart of hearts as their sweaty bodies mingled and the motel sheets became stained with their scent. Their screams echoing off into the night, as the squeaking chorus of the run down Albuquerque motel bed provided a tempo.
When all was said and done, like his father he needed to leave the woman whom he shared a night with passion with and get shipped off to participate in an operation over seas. Years later it would spark and become Desert Storm. No fault of his own.
He was promoted to Brigadier General when he met his wife Wylie. He did try and contact Anna once more but he had no number, no address, and everyone he did talk to didn't seem to want to tell him or didn't know so he didn't pry. But Wylie was everything Alex wasn't; Smart-- Well that was the biggest difference was that she was smart and he wasn't, like professor smart as she taught at Lincoln University in Nebraska. Being Brigadier General he spent a lot more time in the country, so settling down wasn't very hard.
When Wylie got an okay for a transfer the two moved back to Minneapolis, just in time to have their daughter Jacqueline O'Neill, just in time for him to make Major General and get that pay raise. They moved into the house his mother left for him, did some renovations to modernize it and it became a home for the O'Neill's for quite some time.
During the attacks on September 11th Wyile was in the first tower to go down. His wife was lost to him that day, and because of that and his response and how he held together during the attacks he was promoted yet again. Despite his emotional ties to the situation at hand, he could do nothing more than accept and be a hero for the people that looked up to him. He continued work as usual, and was apart of the main task force in response to those attacks. His participation in years following came to a halt when his daughter Jacqueline made it clear that he needed to be at home, and not in Afghanistan or in a room in a round table in D.C. talking tactics with the president.
Alex retired Lieutenant General, and when Jacqueline went to college his life became a series of odd events. The dead spirits haunted him more, despite his control of them they kept coming. The death rate in the country sky rocketed, and he was getting visions of a young girl. Unsure as to who it was, he figured it had something to do with that blasted duck. It became clear when the duck appeared to him in the kitchen, and wandered out his front door. Not that he was a slave to the thing, but it was a curious situation and being a retired ex-military type he was rather bored with a mundane life so he decided to take one step forward and solve the mystery of the young girl in his dreams. Who evidently would be Lane Sullivan, daughter of Anna Sungti. The woman he made love to on his vacation. Like father, like son. There was a daughter he never knew about, and the spirits where showing him the way.
Alexander O'Neill finally met his long lost daughter but it wasn't as easy as he expected or hoped, she was Hunter who was addicted to a supernatural substance known as SD (Sweet Dreams) a chemical synthesized from the Djinn. After his spirit guide Quackers (The duck) lead him to his long lost daughter he did not see his spirit animal for the remainder of the year, he assumed his dedication had to be fully put into helping his daughter recover from whatever hole she found herself in- which was great because that's what he planned to do anyway.
It was hard for him at first, she seemed to hate him for not finding her sooner, that was after she finally got over and believed him to being her real father. He couldn't blame her, but he did blame the spirits for leading him to her too little too late, he assumed it had to do with building character but the things she went through doesn't necessarily build the right kind of character, she might be a warrior- a Hunter- but it shouldn't have went down the way it did.
Guilt over came him of course but he needed to keep a level head, he helped her recover her addiction and did whatever he could to assist her and her friends in stopping the apocalypse- he finally built a rapport with her, enough so that she'll call him "pops" which was all he could ever ask for, especially everything they had been through.
When Sam Winchester took the plunge effectively saving the world from Lucifer and the apocalypse, Sully travelled with his older brother- her lover, boyfriend, paramour, whatever you consider the two- to find a way to save him and pull him out of his hell. Alex, knowing that the world is now safe, and his daughter on the path she should be relaxed for once. That was until he saw Quackers again (His duck spirit guide), beckoning him to a new journey, or trying to warn him from one.
He was approached by two suited men at the grocery store one fine eve, Mr. Bishop and Mr. Knight who claimed to work for the government but wouldn't say which branch and who their superiors were. The one thing that they did divulge to Alex was that they were interested in him, who they were exactly are the Powers Who Be, not exactly your run of the mill Whedonverse reference either- Financially endowed benefactors who have their fingers in every which pie, controlling and altering the details that make America and it's neighbouring countries tick so to speak.
Their offer was to give Alexander his own team, the resources he'd need to defeat and combat things that would threaten the national security of not only the States, but the world. Alex would be reinstated as lieutenant general and be given a fat raise and full control of his fundings, he would answer to no one with the exception he sticks to the mandate- they didn't get into specifics of what would happen if he didn't or failed. He didn't ask.
Before he could give his answer he received a phone call from Dean Winchester informing him that his daughter had been injured during their search for an answer to the Sam problem. Arriving at the hospital, Dean nowhere in sight, he went to his daughters side and it took her about a week to regain conciousness, though he not only had to break the news of her extensive injuries but the fact that Dean was not there as well. Alex might not be his biggest fan of Dean, a lot of Sully's unfortunate incidents over the past year he's known her has revolved around that young man. But he knew how his daughter felt about him despite this, so was more angry at him leaving than staying.
Her injuries to her calf suggested she might not get full use of her limb back, unfortunately Sully was the healer out of the two, he was the medium so he couldn't exactly willfully heal her leg from the brink of invaild- so he called someone who could, after explaining to Sully it was the better solution than waiting and finding out. Jacqueline "Jackie" O'Neill was Alex's youngest daughter, the one he had with his late wife- Sully he knew had avoided meeting her, Alex was just afraid she was constantly going to compare herself to her and discourage any progress in their own father daughter relationship. However as soon as Jackie came and did what she had to do she left, Sully became defensive and snippy, and Jackie was at least smart enough to know she couldn't force her to like her despite her wanting to be on Sully's good side.
With Alex's goodbye he watched as his youngest head back to school, and he remained at his eldest side, trying to convince her to come with him- perhaps she would help make his decision easier when accepting Mr. Bishop and Mr. Knights offer about his own Supernatural team. However Sully had different plans, and she went out on her own. Alex would return the call to Mr. Bishop and Mr. Knight, and would be reinstated within the United States Military, effectively coming out of retirement.
The funding was abundant, more so then he knew what to do with. He decided he'd call the group The Hounds, using a similar theme of naming when it came to headquarters (The Kennel) and his office (The Dog House). The headquarters was located in Joplin, Missouri, the cover was a warehouse purchased by the government and protected by state of the art security, the Supernatural security came in courtesy of himself and a few members of the Shaman community who knew a few things about angels, demons, and the like.
It was almost like fate that after two months Sully would call him again, she explained what happened and he took the young woman into his home. He tried to be there for her as much as he could. It was when he extended an offer to her, of course he was running the Hounds but he couldn't exactly run around like he used to so he needed someone to run the team, and someone connected in the Supernatural community like Sully was would not only be an asset, but she was one of the few people he could trust and one of the few people he believes deserve such a position.
She accepted, and Alex smirked, his daughter was going to be a military girl after all- sure it might not be in the real military but these types of positions tend to make someone's career otherwise. Together they chose a team, slowly building their contacts, going across country and hunting the supernatural. Six months have passed since the Hounds have been active and operational, six months have passed since Alex has heard anything from either Mr. Bishop or Mr. Knight. Six months have passed, and then he received a threat from someone named Mr. W. Pawn.
"Pentobarbital is used to put a dog down, I wonder how much it'll take to put you and your team down." - Mr. W. Pawn
So there was an incident, though it did leave him with one focus orb richer. Not that he needed it anyway; he had spent the past several decades honing his skills he feels like there was nothing he could gain from it. Though his daughters might, one in particular, he assumes that’s why Quackers was so keen on throwing him to the feet of an ancient Aztec god to get it. Though with all the gripes the Natives have about their land and reservations, they don’t really keep an eye on their shit. Though why there was a temple of an ancient Aztec god in the middle of Mississippi underneath a barn was beyond Alex, though an adventure later he seems to have what he needs, and the journey continues.
It seems like he’s been walking since lunch, actually he has been walking since lunch because ever since he saw Quackers leave the girl’s washroom of the local IHOP he’s been following him. Closer and closer they’ve got to Lane Sullivan the more he began to realize that the duck was leading him to New Mexico, why however was the bigger question. Alex’s first stop was New Mexico, and now it feels like he’s going around in one big circle. If the duck wanted to show him something here, he could have shown him while he was here the first time around. Though again, Alex has to remind himself that the spirits aren’t always as kind to provide the proper information, especially spirits of an animal nature. But seriously, why a duck?
His feet were sore; his eyes ached underneath the New Mexico sun. Surly the duck must know how old he was, because it was becoming somewhat of a nuisance to see the waggling ass of Quackers as it waddled with inhuman speed, not that it was human to begin with but he hasn’t seen a duck move so hearty unless it’s in mid-flight. Regardless of the stipulations, Alex was here. Where was here? Well, it didn’t look like the most savoury of places, from what Alex guessed it was an old office building. Drawing his piece he looked at the duck and almost waited to see if it’d draw its own. Not that Alex expected it, but sometimes Quackers played the comic relief in his life, despite how horrifically droll a duck was Quackers was a spirit animal and was a lot more—Animated one should say.
Though when the duck gave him a look that he feels all ducks have—annoyance—it waddled along seemingly into the office building without a care, phasing through the center of the double doors as if there should have been a cat/dog door there for him to walk on through. Alex followed, flashlight in hand he cautiously entered, though what he saw was no delight to his eyes. His heart sank, and he feared for the worst. The end of his journey, in a place like this? Why must the spirits do this, not only to him but to his daughter?
Alex’s light scorched many eyes of the high and dry, strung out on it seems like everything. Needles, vials, little ruined and tart paper that has dried up acid, everything literally littered the floor. He’d fear for Quackers if he was actually real, because the duck trudged along forward without a care in the world, and he had a feeling the duck was telling Alex to do the same. They needed to be some place, and he understood that perfectly. This was the most direction the duck has ever given him, and he should take the luxury while he had the chance—Apparently he thought it was urgent enough.
When the duck stopped in front of a closed door, it turned to Alex and seemed to give him a sad look as if saying goodbye. He didn’t quite understand it at the time, but it’d be awhile before he got to see his old friend again. There were other matters the two of them had to attend to first before they went off on another grand adventure, and with that the spirit duck smoked out in a blue haze and slunk into the floor boards. This room, what was behind it?
”Don’t go in there man, bitch is crazy.” Alex turned his head; his entranced motive to follow the duck left him to face the reality around him once again. There was some cracked out Vietnam-era looking hippie sprawled out in the hallway pointing at the door like it was the devil himself. Alex raised a brow, and took another careful look at the door. He wasn’t surprised it was trapped; it was the salt lining the door that sort of startled him. She was on the other side of this door, she had to be. Why was Lane in a place like this? Alex let his eyes close, he disarmed the trap like it was his own and he reluctantly placed his head against the cracked frame.
The high hippie tried to encourage him not to enter by offering him something that apparently makes his dreams feel real and taste like watermelon, and every fibre in Alex’s being wanted to shoot the man square in the eyes so instead of committing murder he turned the handle on the door, cautiously hoping not to hear a click and cracked it open, taking a knife to anything tied to the door that he could see and once his entrance was secured he stepped in and saw Lane Sullivan sprawled out on a raggy mattress looking as messed up as everyone else outside if not more so. His heart was already sunken enough he sort of figured he knew what he’d find on the other side. Closing the door, he stood there stoically gazing upon his strung out daughter.
ALEXANDER O'NEILL
