Fiction LitG03- Poppa?

Title: Living In The Gray

Chapter Title: Poppa?

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 Grey

Chapter Three

Poppa?

The next morning, Dean was up bright and early, which was an atypical move for him. John, suffering through guilt and wonderment and insecurities all night, had barely slept a wink. But instead of trying to roust his father from his bed, Dean seemed to realize that John still needed time to gird himself for this new development in their lives. And so after his morning ablutions were complete, he muttered something about getting some breakfast and more importantly, coffee, before heading out. John heard the rumble of the Impala's engine and rolled over. He was seriously considering sneaking out before his son returned.

Not to run away, but because he could only imagine how overwhelming it would be for two thirds of the intensely driven Winchester males, to descend on the poor unsuspecting girl. His daughter. The two words still boggled his mind. But even as he thought it over, there were still outs, he realized. Just because Richard had said that he was sterile and Elaine had said that she had paid that nurse to take his genetic contribution, that was no guarantee that Cordelia was his. After all, Elaine was a consummate liar. She could be lying that it was John's sperm. Or perhaps the nurse had mixed up the patients. There were many variables that this all hung on.

Only a full genetic test, which was costly and time consuming, would tell them for sure.

There was also the fact that John highly doubted that Cordelia would remember them. After all, she was just a baby when Dean had been young and he certainly looked older now than the last time he had seen the little girl. Perhaps Elaine still had pictures, he mused. That did seem like the obsessive crap she would pull. John sighed. Well, he could always pop in to see the girl, mention hearing from Richard that Cordy was living in Los Angeles now and they just wanted to stop in and say hi. That was the sort of thing that family did, right? Distant family even.

John could only lay there so long though, before his body began to protest the lack of firmness in the mattress. Not looking forward to it, but knowing it had to be done, which was almost a personal mantra to him these days, John rose from the bed. He was just getting done with his shower when he heard Dean in the outer room once more.

He emerged from the room and held back the wince that wanted to make itself apparent at the flash of relief in Dean's eyes. Ever since Sam had left them, left to go to college, he had seen the worry in his eldest's eyes. He never came out and told Dean that he knew, that he understood, that he worried too. Not that Dean would leave, but that at some point, it might save his son's life not to be around his old man. That was what scared him. That to save his boy, he might just have to cut him loose and hope like hell that the boy would make it.

He knew that he shouldn't worry too much on that score. If anyone had a guardian angel looking after them, it was his Dean. The boy was too reckless in pursuit of his quarry some days. Taking insane leaps and not worrying about looking to where he would land, figuring to worry about it after it was done. The boy, the man, Dean always figured it was better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. And all at once he admired, envied and despaired of that attitude.

People thought that Dean was entirely too under his thumb. Always ceding to John's orders, his wishes, and sublimating his own. They didn't see that Dean understood John. He knew the way John worked and why he didn't always share. And rather than making a huge deal of it, he just accepted what he couldn't change and raised hell where he could. And that was squarely on the enemy.

“Wasn't sure what you'd want this morning,” Dean announced gruffly and John could detect the wavering flicker of unsureness in his tone. “So I got a little of everything.” He gestured to the rickety table where he had laid his purchases. “Nice little diner down the street.”

“All right,” John had, emerging from the shower and seeing his haunted eyes looking back from the mirror, had donned his game face along with his clothing. “Save me some eggs if you got em, at least.” He returned to the bathroom to grab his kit bag, retrieving the comb.

“Yes sir,” Dean's voice followed him and he smiled grimly. It was the sound of relief in Dean's that his old man hadn't caved and that he now had some clear direction. At least for the moment.

When John put his comb away and returned to the main room, Dean was already digging into his meal. There was another Styrofoam take away container opened for John at the other seat. He plunked himself down on the chair and pulled the go cup of coffee towards himself. Dean pushed over a pile of sugar packets, knowing that his father hated the after taste of those sugar replacement sweeteners. John doctored his coffee with ease while he looked over his meal. Three pancakes, as many eggs, ham and toast. It looked good and he dug in with relish. Dean wasn't the only one that liked having an idea of what to do next in a situation like this.

“So I figure,” John announced after several minutes eating in silence, “we'll drive by Cordy's place a little later. If she's home, we'll visit. Catch up a little.”

“And if she's not home?” Dean asked through a small mouthful.

John shrugged. “Shouldn't be too hard to find out where she works.” Dean nodded and that was the end of the planning.

Of course, it went par for course on Plan A. They drove by Cordy's apartment building. Dean and John both winced at the rundown complex with gang slogans and defamation sprayed all over the building. It clearly screamed slum land. And while that was okay for John and the boys for a night, it didn't set well with either of them now to think that Cordy was actually living like that. Dean tried to reassure John that it was probably temporary, just the first thing she grabbed because everyone knew that housing availability in LA sucked. Especially the decent variety for young adults and hopefuls that arrived with no job lined up, little to no money and no friends or family to turn to.

Cautiously, they headed for Cordy's apartment, but when they knocked on the rickety door that offered little to no protection, they were surprised when an older male yanked open the door. Only a few inches though, to peer with one rhuemy eye at them.

“What d'ya want?” he demanded through the crack. They could both see that he had a sliding lock engaged.

“We're looking for Cordelia Chase,” Dean answered. “She here?”

“Nobody here by that name,” the guy answered shortly and began to push the door shut. Dean tried to wedge his foot in the door, but the other male was too quick. Exchanging glances with his father, Dean raised his hand to start pounding once again, but they were interrupted by an older female making her way down the hallway. She was carrying several small bags of trash.

“You lookin' for Cordy?” she demanded. Dean and John both nodded. The female did so as well, as if she were expecting this. “She moved outta here a while ago. Got some much better digs, the way I hear her talk when she was packin' up.”

“Did she leave a forwarding address?” John asked. The female, obviously a canny sort, looked him up and down and bracing her fists on her hips, answered.

“That depends on how much that information is worth to you sugar,” she crooned and John was not at all against letting the sneer cross his face.

“I got this one,” Dean murmured with a charming, good ol' boy smile on his face. He reached into his coat, but instead of pulling his wallet, he came away with something much better. Allowing the folded leather casing to fall open, and shoving it in the women's eye line gave an immediate reaction as the trash bags were dropped and she started swearing a blue streak. “Ma'am, I'd appreciate any information you can give us about Miss Chase's new location.”

“Yeah all right,” she grunted and pivoted on her heel. They quickly dogged her steps, lest she try to run. The whole ten steps back to her door were treated with grumblings about the 'damn feds'. She warned them to wait at her door step, which they warily did, but after a few minutes of listening to her rummage around, she returned with a small note card. She thrust it at Dean and then with another withering glare, stepped back and slammed the door.

Dean glanced at the slightly dog eared business card. “Ah, pay dirt,” he grinned, letting his father see. There was a strange logo on the card, but the address of one Angel Investigations was listed along with it. The detective that Richard's friend had said that Cordy was working for. And on the back, in loopy, girly writing, was Cordelia's new address.

“Let's go,” John said, relieved that they were getting out of there. Once back at the Impala, John allowed Dean to drive, while he glanced through the street map that they had purchased. It was covered over in ink marks, circling and denoting various cemeteries and such, but he could still see the finer print underneath those.

“Where to Dad?” Dean wondered as he pulled back out on the street. “I mean, logic says she's at work.”

“Yeah,” John agreed. “But her apartment is closer than the office to here. I just wanna...”

“Swing by and make sure it's better than this hellhole?” Dean finished for him. John nodded and set the map away on the floor. In full agreement the two males headed for another apartment complex. One that was a vast improvement over what they had seen previously.

“Dad,” Dean spoke quietly, gesturing to a sign that he noted, planted in the lawn. “Look.”

John grinned as he read the information posted there. “I say, let's go in.” Finding a parking space on the rapidly filling street was a little difficult, but they didn't mind the half block walk back to the complex. They joined another few people heading in to view the open house on an apartment for lease.

It turned out to be just down the hallway from Cordelia's street entrance, which Dean thought to be a nice touch. Just to be sure though, they bypassed the open door of the apartment, though they did glance in, preferring to see Cordy, than have to mingle with strangers. But alas, there was no answer. They turned away from her door and moved back to the open apartment.

They were greeted immediately by the complex manager, her name tag proclaiming her name for anyone that really cared to look, but seemed unnecessary. She held her hand out, first to John and then Dean. “Hi, welcome to our open house. I'm Leslie.” She glanced down at the clipboard in her hand and then back at them. “I've got a scheduled tour that just arrived, but please feel free to have a look around and then I'll be back to answer any questions you might have.”

“Oh, take your time, please,” John smiled. The woman moved off and John followed after his son who had already found the table loaded down with some complimentary coffee, juice and mini muffins. There was another young man, lounging there as Dean filled up a cup.

“So,” the young man nodded towards Dean, in the manner of the socially awkward moment of trying to start chit chat among strangers. “What d'ya think?”

“Oh, we're not here to look,” Dean told him straight out. “Just wanted to visit my cousin since we're in town. But she's not home.”

“Oh?” the man straightened up. “Who's your cousin?”

“Cordelia Chase,” Dean answered simply, glancing at his father. John declined any more beverages. “You know her?” he asked of the other male.

“Cordy?” the guy's face had brightened considerably. “Oh yeah. Threw a hell of a party when she moved in. It was a great time. I'm Steve Paymer.” He held out his hand that Dean, juggling coffee and a muffin, shook quickly. “Dave Paymer's brother,” he explained as he held his hand to John. The Winchester's were mystified by that. The young man, Steve rattled on about a show they'd never heard of.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled around a bite of muffin. “Haven't been able to catch up on current television in a while. Too busy working.”

“Ah yeah, that's okay man,” Steve grinned and then cocked his finger at the men, like a pistol. “But you ever do, check it out. It's the show to watch.”

“Yeah man,” Dean nodded, his tone just as fake as the other's. He wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained. “Will do.”

“So you live in the complex?” John asked before this Steve could start up his sycophantic behavior again. Steve nodded.

“Two years now.”

“Are all the apartments the same?” John wondered next and then, with a winning smile, continued. “See, Cordy was just so excited about her new place. And we got here earlier than expected. And well, when we saw this open house, we thought we could sort of get a preview.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve nodded, turning to refill his coffee. “All the apartments are pretty much the same. The one Cordy is in, that belonged originally to the lady who commissioned the complex. I'd never been in until the party, but Leslie said that there used to be a wall in that apartment, that covered up the arch. Cordy tore it out.” He gesture to the arch in the living room wall as Dean and John nodded. They were quiet as voices approached and Leslie returned, leading a couple through to the living room once more.

“And as you can see, the colors in here compliment the amount of sunlight that you get most of the day, just beautifully,” she was saying. The couple were nodding, definitely looking interested as Steve smirked at the Winchester's.

“Getting a nice little kick back for being the local celeb in the hood,” he chuckled sotto voce to them. Dean raised one eyebrow appraisingly but said nothing. They all watched as the couple conferred for a few moments and then said something to Leslie. She grinned broadly as she saw them out of the apartment. She turned back to the trio of males clustered around the table and pasted on another bright look. “Save the schpiel Les,” Steve warned, gesturing to the Winchester's. “These guys are Cordy's family. They stopped in to visit but she's out. Either at work or at an audition. Hopefully the latter. She's goin' places, that girl. Am I right?”

John was pleased to see that the plastic Hollywood smarm melted from the woman's face and a genuine smile took it's place.

“Oh Cordelia,” she sighed. “We just love her here. You know, we used to have so many complaints from the previous tenant's in that apartment. But not a peep out of Cordelia.”

“Oh?” Dean wondered, his internal radar for the unusual going up, just as John's did. “Complaints? Really?”

“Mm hmm,” Leslie murmured as she chose a muffin. “Light fixtures that didn't work, weird noises. You know, those typical complaints when people just move in. They never lasted long.”

“Oh, they just had to get used to the new place,” John surmised, but Steve was shaking his head.

“She means the tenants,” he informed them. “Not many of them stayed long.”

“They were mostly temperamental artists,” Leslie added, a little snidely. “A difficult lot, especially when rent comes due. But Cordelia, like I said, has been a dream. Smart girl to hold down steady work while she works the circuit.”

“The circuit?” John asked.

“Commercial auditions, plays, the like,” the actor's brother informed them with an air of assumed knowledge. They all nodded and Dean, having finished his coffee, turned his arm to check his watch.

“Well, if we're gonna catch Cor on her lunch break, we should get going Dad,” he announced and then turned to the others. “Thanks for the coffee. The place is real nice.”

“Thank you,” Leslie grinned at him, still not immune to the charms of a younger man. John stifled his laughter and waving his own hand in an, as genial as possible, goodbye, were out the door and back into the California sun in moments.

“That place is a helluva lot nicer,” Dean sighed. John simply nodded his agreement.

The drive to Angel Investigations was longer than the first leg of the trip, but neither minded too much. They discussed what they planned on doing after. After they saw Cordy, after John decided how he wanted to handle things. After there was the decision to tell Sam, or even contact him with this at all. All of those after's went unspoken but they both knew what the hang ups were.

Having his father give him directions as he drove, Dean pulled up the street and noted, like his father had said, a T intersection. There was parking along both sides of the street and rather than have to turn the corner and find something else, Dean made the split second decision to just pull in where they were.

“What's the address on this place again?” he asked his father, who deftly flipped the card between his fingers and recited the building number. Dean smirked and gestured out the front windshield. “That's it.”

John nodded, trying to bolster himself quietly, breathing slowly. Dean had already opened his car door after checking to make sure traffic was clear behind him. He stood, the door ajar, leaning on the roof of the car while he waited for his father to make up his mind. Whether the old man came along or not, Dean was determined to see the little family they had left that didn't out right despise them. At least she didn't yet.

But before John could make up his mind properly, their attention was drawn to the front door of the stately building that Angel Investigations made it's home in. A couple exited the doors, moving down the steps and the woman turned away to begin walking down the street. All of this would have been unremarkable but for several factors. First, was that the male, a man in his late twenties, early thirties, fairly well dressed, called after the female.

“Cordelia! Our appointment is in half an hour. Angel said we could use his car.” The male then gestured in the opposite direction that Cordelia was walking. And when she turned to follow after the man, the next remarkable thing made itself apparent.

Cordelia, and surely it was their Cordelia, since it wasn't a very common name, even here in Los Angeles, was quite obviously and hugely pregnant. Dean's mouth fell open at this new information and a shocked chuckle escaped his mouth. Why on earth had those yahoos at the apartment complex not said anything. Of course, they were family, so it was probably assumed that they knew this information.

Dean watched as Cordelia waddled to a classic black convertible. A nice piece of machinery and another piece clicked. There was an actual Angel of the Investigation firm. He had to smile when the male tried to escort her into the car and she flapped her arms, managing to swipe at him a few times as her protest carried loud and clear to his ears.

“I'm pregnant Wes, not an invalid!” she snarked before settling herself into the vehicle.

“Er, yes, of course,” the now named Wes agreed quickly, shutting the door and then hurrying around the front end to climb into the driver's seat. Hearing him speak again, Dean was pretty sure he detected an English accent, even from across the street, as he was. This Wes guy started the vehicle and then pulled out after a moment, driving, from what Dean could see, carefully. Blinking a few times, he climbed back into his own vehicle. Pulling the door shut, he chuckled once more.

“Heh, Uncle Dean,” he chortled and was startled by the strangled noise he heard from the seat next to him. His eyes widened in fright as he turned to see his father starting in on a hyperventilation jag. Swearing softly under his breath, he began to dig around the front end of the car, until at last he found a raggedy paper bag that he was pretty sure was either from a liquor store or a take out burger joint.

Either way it was shoved in his father's hands who took it gratefully and with alacrity. Dean waited, watching his father breath into the bag, hoping that this sudden twist in the latest family drama wouldn't drive the old man to a heart attack.

At long last, John got his breathing under control and slowly turned to his son. “No Uncle Dean,” he croaked out and Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he puzzled that out. It took him only a second.

“Denying you might be about to become a grandpa isn't gonna change anything,” he stated baldly and then chuckled again as John's hand twitched spasmodically. Hiding his amused grin, Dean started up the Impala. “How about we come back tomorrow, yeah? Looks like Cordy's got her... um, hands full, huh?”

Chapter Four- Where's My Baby?