Fiction LitG01- Introducing

Title: Living In The Gray

Chapter Title: Introducing...

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Angel the Series, or to Supernatural. They belong respectively to Whedon/ Greenwalt and to Eric Kripke. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to PG-15

Genre: Crossover

Type: Real Family

Pairing: canon show pairings

Summary: Once they knew the truth of the matter, it made sense that Cousin Cordy was stronger than anyone gave her credit for.

Spoilers/ Time line: This is first Season of Angel, starting between the episodes “Somnambulist” and “Expecting”. For Supernatural, it is pre-series, when Sam has started college and John are Dean are still hunting together a bit.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: I had issued this idea to the Twisting The Hellmouth site. The “Cousin Delia” challenge was not answered, so I decided to go ahead and write it myself.

Living In The Gray

Chapter One

Introducing...

John Winchester sat, in one of the hundred or more seedy bars that populated the city of Los Angeles. He and his adult son Dean, had just finished with a hunt, a typical salt and burn. After all the grave digging that they'd had to do to find the bones of the ghost that they were dealing with, John had taken up Deans' suggestion of stopping for a beer before heading back to their motel room.

John knew that Dean had been surprised that his father had agreed to stop. Ever since the advent of Dean's twenty-first birthday and his actual legal first beer, John had more often declined than joined in. John grimaced distastefully to himself as he flipped through the pages of his journal idly. His eyes were skimming but there was nothing pressing, at least not anything new, at the moment and he was just being... idle. His hand, the other one, rested around the base of the bottle of Corona that Dean had brought him. Hefting it slightly before bringing it to his lips, he knew that by the weight and the slosh of the liquid inside, that it was about done. And that meant that John was as well. He wondered if Dean were anywhere near ready. His son, well versed in the bar scene, seedy or otherwise knew that he had to get his kicks in when he could, because when John said it was time to go, that was it. So lately, John had started paying attention to his son's behavior. If he was hitting them hard and fast, Dean was taking his time. If he was just sipping absently, then Dean was pounding back three or four to every one of his.

John knew the behavior for what it was and dismissed it. Dean was an adult now, he had to keep reminding himself. Right there by his side where John could keep an eye on him. Thinking of that now, he let his eye wander to the last place Dean had been, at the pool tables. The boy had developed a good hustle and was regularly bringing in gas money and that was as far as John would admit for what he knew of Dean's spending ways with that particular cash. As long as the kid kept up with the credit card applications, and the cards kept coming in, then John wasn't going to complain.

And as he had been before, Dean was leaning over to make a shot. To anyone else, Dean would look like any other happy go lucky twenty something year old just out for some fun after a hard days work. John wasn't anybody else. He recognized the tension thrumming through and bothering Dean just by the width of his smile alone. That his shoulders were tight and he was watching the line of his shot as well, told him there was more to the story. Dean was upset about something and John didn't need to make many guesses about what. If threat were imminent, Dean would have already forfeited as well as he could. If the threat were medium, he'd finish his game and saunter back to his father. If it were worse, well, John would have known about it a long time before this, he mused to himself, with a snorting, quiet grunt.

And just as he expected, Dean finished off his game, collecting some cash from his opponent, before rubbing one finger at his eye and then stretching up to his full height. The man he'd played against shook his hand and then Dean snagged whatever was left of his beer and started that rolling amble of his that spoke of confidence to all but the most practiced of eyes, to all those around him. It was faster than his normal clip and John inserted one finger into the pages of his journal and closed the book upon it. Dean slid into the seat across from him, smiling vaguely, though John could see that the worry lines that Dean had started developing around his mouth and eyes were etched in well tonight. His son leaned his elbows on the table and John waited for what would look like casual conversation to outsiders, to begin.

“Loner at the table to your right,” Dean informed him, looking like he hadn't a care in the world and John, knowing better than to instantly turn and stare, waited for his son to finish. “Came in about forty-five minutes, maybe an hour ago. Took the back corner table and started hitting the Jack straight, hard. Seemed to notice you about half hour ago and he's been glaring daggers at you ever since.”

John smiled tersely and nodded. He lifted his bottle, swirled around what was left of the liquid and asked his son, “so how much did you rake in?” It wasn't a question that Dean normally heard from his father. It was recognized by his son as a distraction technique. Dean grinned widely and spread his arms wide before his voice picked up.

“'Nough money for gas next week,” Dean declared loudly. “Man you should'a seen this one shot I made. It was sweet, I tell ya!”

Of course, while Dean was drawing any and all attention with his happy chatter and grandiose gestures, John had lifted his bottle for a last swallow, having to tilt his head all the way back. And as he did, his eyes slid to the right, to check out this loner that had Dean worried. And when he finally was able to place where he'd seen the cultured, suit clad outsider last, he nearly dropped the bottle, choking as he tried to swallow.

“Dad?” Dean asked quietly, then waited.

“Fuck!” John hissed, dabbing at his chin while his son slid a napkin his way. He snatched it up and mopped off his face.

“You recognize him?” Dean asked, though he knew his father had. “I thought he looked familiar.”

“He should,” John muttered darkly. Of all the people for them to be around, this guy was one of the very last he ever desired to see. He'd rather run into that damn demon that had taken his wife than be around... Okay, well, seeing that he wanted to end that demon bastard...

“Who is he?” Dean wondered, looking slightly mystified.

“Your uncle Richard,” John bit off, suddenly aware that Richard Campbell, his brother in law, had realized that he had finally been noticed and the man was standing. Very unsteadily and John recalled what Dean had said about the Jack Daniels as Rich started stumbling around his table. It took seconds only for John to realize that he was heading straight for them and since he was between them and the front door, escape was not looking likely.

“Mom's brother?” Dean asked, his voice awed and John rolled his eyes. He'd never spoken ill of Mary's family, but to explain when the boys were old enough, that her family had never understood that something more had happened that night. Demons, ghosts, poltergeists, those were the stuff of fiction. Mary had died in a tragic house fire and that was the end of it. He never did tell the boys how Mary herself had wanted nothing to do with her brother or his wife, eventually. It had taken some time for her to admit that her brother had changed under his wife Elaine's influence. And it hadn't been a good change. And it was Mary, not John that had cut off contact with them, when Richard and Elaine's social climbing had started to hurt them more than it helped. Of course, she had kept up on them through her parents, knowing when Elaine gave birth to a little girl, and sending cards and gifts for the girl on the proper occasions, just as Elaine had for Sam and Dean. Until that night...

John wanted very badly to wipe away the semi-awed tone that he heard in Dean's voice. But then, Dean hadn't seen the man since he was little. Wouldn't have any memories of him, really. But any connection to Mary was one that Dean wanted, John knew that, even if the boy wouldn't verbalize it. He felt a momentary regret that he had cut things off simply for the fact that Dean had been very bemused by the one time that he'd gotten to meet Richard and Elaine's daughter, right after the girl had been born. That of course, had started his demands for a baby, which John and Mary had obliged him with when they'd had Sammy almost two years after Cordelia's arrival.

But before he could think anymore on that line of thinking, Richard was beside him, weaving slightly and Dean was leaning forward to watch this spectacle.

“John,” the man sneered. “Never thought I'd see you again. But then, this is just the sorta place you'd slink around, isn't it?”

“Richard,” John returned with a sigh. He really didn't feel like getting into a pissing match with the man. “What do you want?”

“Want?” Richard repeated. “Why the hell would I want anything from you? You already took everything that mattered.”

John flinched at that sully and he felt Dean bristle beside him. He took just a second to calm and center himself. He laid one hand on Dean's, a non-verbal warning and his son stayed himself as well.

“Richard, I didn't start the fire,” he began tiredly. Even though there were times when he wondered why and if it was something that he had done in a past life or something to piss someone off.

The man blinked owlishly and then shook his head. “I'm not talking about that! I'm talking about you and Elaine and your daughter!” The words were snarled and John frowned. Obviously the man was more drunk than he had realized. Dean seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He rose from his barstool and came around his father, reaching one hand to clasp Richard on the shoulder.

“Man, you're drunk and I don't think you're thinking too clear,” he offered affably, though John could see disappointment in his son's eyes.

“I'm clearer than I've been in my whole life,” Richard snapped back and then eyed Dean up and down before shoving Dean's hand away. “Which one're you?”

John sighed again. “Richard, this is Dean.” He turned to his son. “As you've already gotten, your uncle, Richard Campbell.”

“It's Chase,” the man grunted a correction and both Winchester's turned to him. “We legally changed our name just before we moved to California.”

“Oh,” John was surprised, wondering why.

“Campbell was just too... common for Elaine, you know? And when her great aunt offered to make us the only beneficiaries of her will if I consented...” he groused and then shook his head. “Not like you'd care. You always made your distaste for us perfectly clear.”

“Richard,” John sighed once more, wondering if it would be acceptable to glance a blow off of the man's chin. Knock his brain around just enough to get him to pass out and leave them the hell alone. “We weren't trying to hurt you,” he began, only to be interrupted again.

“But you did anyways,” Richard snarled. “It wasn't enough to have my wife panting after you, but now I find out... Jesus!”

“Richard you know damn well that I never, ever encouraged Elaine,” John spoke softly, his eyes darting to his son, who was watching the scene with wide eyes.

“And yet, she got what she wanted anyways,” Richard groaned, unsteady on his feet. His head came up sharply. “Didn't you ever notice what a nice dark head of hair that my daughter has?”

John frowned, trying to figure out what the hell his brother in law was implying.

“Or her pretty brown eyes,” Ricard went on. “Certainly didn't come from me or Elaine.” And then John caught on, but before he could respond, his son had done so, grabbing his uncle by the lapels of his expensive suit and hauling him up, face to face.

“You might wanna watch what you say to or about my dad,” Dean hissed out and John watched as Richard's addled senses took this in finally and he tried to scramble out of Dean's grip. John made a soothing noise to his son, but Dean was a little too far gone by this slur against his father.

“Fine, I won't say it,” Richard finally sneered out. “I'll just tell it to you like my ever loving wife told me. Because we all know what a fine, morally upstanding kind of guy that your father is,” he went on, tauntingly and Dean's grip tightened until John put his hand on his son.

“Dean, don't,” he warned gently. In truth, he was starting to feel sorry for Richard. Obviously something was going on and it was something not good. He knew the truth. His son would know it as well. He turned to his brother in law. “I already told you Richard, I never touched Elaine. So whatever lie she's trying to foist off on you, it doesn't involve me.” He turned to look at his eldest. “Let's go.”

Dean glared at his uncle and then dropped him suddenly and smoothed his own jacket down, ready to walk away as his father had instructed. They had begun to do just that when Richard's voice called out, “you remember why I married Elaine?” John barely paused, but kept going. “Her family was loaded. And Elaine had no problem buying whatever she wanted, did she John? She even bought you.”

John paused, the words making no sense and Richard chuckled darkly. “That got your attention, huh? Remember your operation? Your emergency appendectomy? Well, looks like Elaine managed to find an extremely accommodating nurse. You wouldn't give her what she wanted? Well she found a way to take it anyway and to hell with you or my sister or me.”

John felt bile rising in his throat as he tried to connect Richard's words as anything more than a jumble of drunken rantings. “Richard,” he began, shaking his head, “Cordelia is your daughter. She-!”

“She's not!” the man snarled. “Just got confirmation this afternoon. Friggin' doctor so sympathetic. I'm fucking sterile. Always have been. Which I guess is great for me. No little messes to clean up after, huh? Not like Elaine cared if I slept around. She had her money and your daughter. But now, Cordy walked out on us. Came to LA and won't even acknowledge us and I lost all that pretty money. So she's got nothin'. Just what the bitch deserves.” He stumbled again and John was quick enough to realize that Richard had finally reached the end of his limit. The man's eyes rolled up in his head and he and Dean swept forward just as another guy was coming into the bar.

“Rich!” he yelled. He hurried up to where Dean and John were supporting the passed out man and glanced up at the strangers. “Let me guess,” he snorted derisively. “He got started early, huh? Can't say I blame him.”

“Huh?” Dean grunted under his uncle's weight.

The other man moved to help Dean and John move Richard out, grunting that they could take him to his car and he'd see that he got Rich home. He introduced himself as Marv Carlson. John was a little wary, as was natural in his world, giving only his and his son's first names. But Dean, came right out with his question.

“So what the hell was he babbling about?” Dean demanded, his eyes shifting between the man that purported to be a friend of his uncle's and the man that had climbed so high in his nephew's untutored expectations, only to crash and burn further than even he could imagine in an all time world record.

“Dunno,” the man shrugged and then peered at the father and son. “You guys know Rich?”

“He's my brother in law,” John explained shortly. That seemed to finally throw up red flags with the male, who in the Winchester's estimation, had been too trusting until that point.

“Huh,” he grunted. “Rich has never mentioned having a sister.” He eyed them thoughtfully as John's jaw set and Dean recognized his father's desire to put the male in his place for bringing up, yet again, painful memories.

“My wife is deceased,” John got out in a clipped tone. “We've been estranged with her family since then...” he trailed off as Dean raised a discreet eyebrow at his father. Sharing with a stranger? John hid a sigh, glancing back down at the pathetic form of his brother in law passed out in his friends front seat. “But what was Richard talking about. He lost everything?”

Apparently his father's pained explanation of the family dynamics was enough for the other man to pass muster and he regarded Richard as well before turning back to them. “If you're estranged... well, couple years ago, the IRS cottoned on to the fact that Rich wasn't paying his taxes. And the bracket was high enough, they wanted their share. Long story short, worst case scenario according to Rich's lawyer, he's gonna be doing a stint at a minimum security prison for fraud.”

“Shit,” Dean breathed out. That wasn't, even given the perks of a white bread prison over any other, it still wasn't a pleasant prospect.

“Okay, but what was he saying about Cordelia?” John pressed, his face pinched and Dean startled.

His dad didn't believe...? He stared discreetly at the man who was more idol at times than father to him and realized with a clenching in his heart that even if what his uncle had been spewing... there was no way that John would leave that information untouched. He glanced back at the other man and saw him shaking his head.

“His daughter?” Marv grimaced. “My honest opinion? She was smart. This whole thing started going down, she faced up to reality, got herself a job and after she graduated, she hightailed it the hell out of there. From what Rich told me, she gotten some acting jobs up here and now she's working for some PI to make the ends meet.”

“So what's the problem?” Dean interjected. That made sense to him. No good cryin' over friggin' spilled milk. It was pretty much his way of life. Something crappy happened, you dealt with it and moved on. Pretty much literally for he and his family though. “What's got his shorts all bunched about it?”

Marv regarded Dean, smirked a little and then chuckled before sighing. “Rich called me earlier. He came up to see her, I guess. Problem is, she had no problem cutting ties with them. Rich was pissed because she moved on and didn't let them know. Not that you can blame the girl, huh? Not like Rich and Elaine ever paid attention to her when she was growing up. Fuck, I remember when she was in the hospital a year ago?” He paused to see if either male before him knew what he was referring to, but both shook their heads in bewilderment. His voice grew quiet and serious then. “From what I understand, Cordy went to help her boyfriend who'd gotten mixed up with some bad crowd. Staircase collapsed under her. She ended up impaled through the torso on a rebar.”

“Jesus!” John bit out, his eyes narrowing dangerously and Dean was staring in slight horror as the man continued his story. “You're sure...” he began, but broke off, suspicions obviously growing in his mind.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “My daughter Aura is friends with her. Cordelia survived, obviously. But Rich and Elaine? They showed up a couple hours later, after their maid finally got through to them and after making sure she'd be okay, didn't bother with her until it was time for her to come home, but for a couple of five minute check-ins between parties and work. They sent a car and driver to bring her home.”

“What the fu-!” Dean began but the other man was shaking his head.

“The girl's a survivor and if she's cut off her parents,” he sighed, “then she's got a damn good reason for doing so.”

“Glad to hear it,” John grunted, “but why do you care so much?”

“Because I grew up the same way as she did,” Marv shrugged. “Parents too busy social climbing. Wanted to make sure she was doing okay. Aura said she was and I'm glad as hell that she's gonna be okay. Better than okay from what my kid says. Can't say the same for her parents.”

They spent a few more minutes with John fishing for information, but when it looked like Richard was starting to come around a little, John decided that it was probably the better part and all that to get out of the man's vituperative spewing line of fire. He was polite but distant as they left and once they were far enough away from Richard and his friend, Dean glanced at his father's grave face.

“What are you thinking Dad?” he whispered. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, knowing instinctively that his father wouldn't say. If he even knew.

“I don't know Dean,” John whispered back, his voice sounding more tortured than Dean had heard in a while. “I just don't know.”

Chapter Two- Misconceptions...