Fiction- LitG04- Where's My Baby

Title: Living In The Gray

Chapter Title: Where's My Baby?

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 Four

Where's My Baby?

“Was it just me,” Dean began, as they pulled into the parking lot of their motel, “or was that guy Wes a little bit...” he finished shifting the car into park and then lifted his hand to wave it shakily, indicating an 'either or' type of impression.

“Some bumbly jerk that has no clue what the hell he's doing?” John finished for him, sounding ticked off and Dean didn't bother to hide his smirk.

“I was thinkin' more Mr. Bean,” he chuckled, relieved that his father had finally moved beyond grunting responses.

“Who?” was the automatic response from his culturally retarded father. And coming from Dean, that was saying a lot.

“He's a... just an English actor,” Dean sighed. He'd never watched any of the guy's stuff, but he had seen a few previews when he'd gotten the chance to hit the theaters when the last Tara Benchley horror had debuted. The beanpole of a guy had sort of stuck in Dean's mind and if he'd gone in for comedies, he might have seen it. As it was, that was who this Wes guy reminded him of, from the brief impression they'd received. Might not be fair, but it was all they had to work with, as the shock of his cousin-sister's pregnancy was quite huge.

They climbed out of the car, locking their respective doors, since they weren't planning on going anywhere anytime soon. Dean understood immediately that the shock to John's system would require some drinking that night and some more time to gird his loins. If he even got that far. Knowing his father as he did, John would probably rather cut and run now, before Cordelia realized that they were in town. Thought how she'd figure that out was beyond Dean. Sure, the great Steve Paymer, brother of Dave, or that Leslie might mention it...

Dean grinned, as he now had several good hooks to keep his father on the line. As he slid the key into the motel room door, he smirked over his shoulder at his father waiting behind him. “You don't suppose that guy was the father, do you?”

John groaned audibly, but said nothing as he pushed past Dean into the motel room. Dean chuckled and followed after him.

*****

The next morning was much like the previous. Dean, still afraid to leave his father alone, John having to pep talk himself several times into visiting his possible daughter, definite niece by marriage, and now the unborn offspring of said girl. It took him a little bit longer than he'd meant, to make it out of the motel and that was with Dean chomping at the bit to get going.

This time, Dean didn't waste gas on any scenic route, having mapped out the quickest, most likely route to the building that housed Angel Investigations. As it happened, their previous parking spot was taken and Dean did have to take the corner. But the street was mostly empty. Not bothering with coddling his father this time around, Dean was out of the car and half way across the street before he heard the passenger side door of the Impala slammed shut. He did allow a tiny glance over his shoulder to ensure that his father wasn't going to hop into the driver's seat and ditch him. But no, John was hurrying after him, ever unwilling to let his boys face something that he didn't have the guts too.

Dean knew this and though he'd never used it against his father, he figured that it was worth it, this time. He strolled across the street, his father hot on his heels, hissing under his breath. Entering the building, Dean noted that it was only slightly shabby, but that could be excused by several things. There was a directory on the wall and some stairs off to the side. If he were to walk straight back down the hallway, there was an elevator bank for those not inclined to the stairs. But he didn't need the directory because to his immediate left was a door that proclaimed itself to be the home of Angel Investigations. The door was closed and feeling more than hearing his father coming up behind him, Dean continued on, his boot heels clacking slightly on the floor.

He tried the door, finding it unlocked, which was fine. There were no hours of operation posted on the door like you'd sometimes find. But pushing it open, the office into which Dean stepped was well lit and pretty much like offices the world over. His searching glance took in the furniture and equipment and the man, Wes, bent over a desk in the far corner. He glanced up immediately and gave Dean a polite smile before straightening up.

“Yes, can I help you?” the Brit asked with a clipped accent. He was dressed in slacks, a decent shirt and tie, though his sleeves were rolled up to just below the elbow.

“Yeah, hey,” Dean returned the greeting, stepping all the way in as his father brought up the rear and closed the door behind him. “I'm Dean, this is my dad, John.”

“Welcome,” Wes nodded. “I'm Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. What can we here at Angel Investigations, do for you?”

“Actually,” Dean muttered, glancing at his father, who was glowering slightly at the thin man before them. It seemed that Wes noticed as well, looking slightly puzzled at why the older man was glaring before turning his attention back to Dean. “I'm looking for my cousin. Cordelia Chase. She works here, right?”

“Oh,” Wes proclaimed before chuckling and then waving them in. “Cordelia's cousin. Of course. Marvelous. Come in, certainly. Would you like a seat? I'm afraid Cordelia stepped out for a moment to run some errands. She- er, should be back any time.” He gestured to the sofa close to the front door, under a window. The blinds were drawn, mostly, casting lined shadows on the opposite wall and floor. “I'm afraid that she didn't mention that she had family in town.”

“We were just passing through and thought we'd stop in and say hi,” Dean explained, more than happy tp take the seat offered and pulled on his father's sleeve ad Wes nodded. “Bit of a surprise.”

“Especially given that we haven't seen her in so long,” John sighed and then smiled, though it was more of a grimace than a smile. Before this Wesley could reply, another door opened, but it was further into the office and not from where they had just entered.

“Is someone here Wes?” a younger man's voice asked as he stepped out. Dean stood back up immediately, John straightening to his full height as both began assessing this new person before them. He was tall, dark haired and dressed fairly casually in black slacks and a dark blue sweater. But even slouched in the doorway as he was, he was studying them just as much.

“Oh yes, Angel,” Wes beamed. “Some of Cordelia's family has dropped in to say hello.” Angel gave a single nod to that information. Wes gestured to Angel while announcing, “this is our employer, Angel. And this,” he swept his arm to the pair he had just met, “is Dean and his father John.” He then glanced at them, a peculiar expression on his face. “I'm afraid I didn't catch a last name.”

Angel moved forward, putting his hand out to greet them. As Dean shook his hand, he suddenly realized why the taller man was wearing a sweater in the California heat. Must have poor circulation or something, given how cool his hands were. It was a firm enough grip though, backing up the wide neck and musculature that was visible. Angel repeated the action with John and then stuck his hands in his pockets as he found another wall to lean against. “So, you're her...”

“Uncle by marriage on her father's side,” John explained and Angel nodded slowly, his eyes slightly squinted. “Dean was just telling... Wesley here, that Cordelia doesn't know we're here yet.”

“Yes,” Angel nodded, then gestured to the door. “She went on a donut run. She insists we have snacks for the clients.”

“Good idea,” Dean nodded. All four of the men smiled tightly at one another and silence followed. They heard the outer door of the building jingle slightly and then slam and Wes, peering his head to peek out the window, brightened considerably and bounded a few steps to the door, yanking it open quickly.

“Thank you!” Cordy's strident tone sounded out and they could all see that her way was being impaired by a handful of bags and stack of several pink boxes. “You would not believe the traffic. And crabby mister cab driver couldn't even be bothered to help me in. Just grunted at my tip and took off the second the door was shut. I tell you,” she continued as she tilted her head to the right to see where she was going as Wes shut the door behind her. Unfortunately for her, that was the opposite direction of where her family was standing and she totally missed them as she continued on. “The line at the butcher's? Don't even get me started. But I got your-!”

“Cordy!” Angel snapped, halting her progress and taking the boxes from her. “We have company,” he continued more gently, eying the newcomers who were staring, slightly agape at the young woman.

“Oh, right, gotcha,” Cordy chuckled and then rested the bags she also had on the desk before her. She leaned over to grab up a pad of paper and a pen and then spun around. “So what's the problem?” she asked perkily.

“Uh, you're not...” Dean began, his eye widened with incredulity, waving his hand in her direction. Cordy smiled brightly at him and jerked her chin forward, waiting for him to finish his sentence. When he apparently couldn't finish his sentence, she glanced at Angel. The other man shook his head and shrugged. But Cordy, trying to be professional obviously, seemed to be biting her tongue.

“Cordy?” John asked, stepping forward. That was all it took for the girl to still, peer at the oldest male in the room, still living that was, and then gasp, bringing her hands, still full of office equipment, to her face before she squealed and darted forward.

“Uncle John?” she chirped happily as she threw herself into his arms. He looked shocked which caused his son to laugh. She pulled back quickly and studied his face. “It is you, right? I mean, you look older than in Mom's pictures, but...”

“Yeah, it's me,” John confirmed with a relieved sigh. Cordy pressed her cheek to him once and then stepped back as his hands fell from her arms. She spun and looked speculatively at Dean and then gestured with one manicured finger. “So you'd be...” she scrunched her features up slightly and then snapped her finger. “Dean?”

“Got it one, Cordy,” he grinned charmingly and held out his arms to her. She ducked into his hug and Dean could see both Wesley and Angel beaming at them. After their hug, Cordy stepped back and eyed him up and down.

“Gotta say, you sure grew up into a very lickable taste of salty goodness,” she complimented him and it was a new one, causing Dean to throw his head back with the laughter. He definitely liked his cousin-sister already.

“And you,” he returned, gesturing to her, exchanging a quick glance with his father. “Are... a lot skinnier than I thought you'd be.” That was apparently the wrong thing to say as Cordy gasped, resting one hand on her slim hip.

“You thought I'd grow up fat?” she half screeched and made as if to smack his shoulder, but Dean held up his hand quickly backing off.

“No, no that came out wrong,” he defended, hearing Angel's snicker, wanting to glare, but knowing from experience better than to let an angry woman out of his eye line. Relative or no.

“What Dean means,” John interrupted, “was that we actually came by yesterday, but you were on your way out to an appointment. You looked like you... had your hands full, so we came back today. And I suppose there's some logical explanation why...”

“Yesterday?” Wes prompted and then, realizing dawned and he let out a soft groan. “Oh yes, the doctor's appointment.”

John noticed that Cordelia had frozen as well, though her chest was heaving. But it was Angel that stepped forward and gave them an easy smile. “Yes,” he nodded. “We were working on a case and I had Cordy do a little undercover work for me, since,” he pointed at himself and then Wes, “male, couldn't get in where the info was. So Cordy did it for us. Though she doesn't usually...”

“Oh so you're not pregnant,” John sighed with relief and Cordy snorted waving her hand.

“Oh God no!” she laughed. “Could you imagine me with a baby!”

“Yes, she can barely manage to make a half-way decent cup of coffee,” Wes gibed. “I can't imagine she'd handle formula or nappies much better.”

“Oh, well that's cool, right,” Dean nodded. Although he'd kind of thought a niece or nephew would be neat, Cordy had all the time in the world. “So, did you get what you needed? On the case, I mean?”

“Sorry,” Angel interrupted, “but we still have to maintain client confidentiality. But the case was resolved satisfactorily for us.”

“Yes, it most definitely was,” Cordy agreed fervently and then turned to her uncle. “So, correct me if I'm wrong, cause it's been a long time, but don't you have another kid? I am almost certain you do.”

“That'd be Sammy,” Dean nodded, answering for his father. “He's at school. Stanford,” he clarified. Her eyes widened and she grinned.

“Cool,” she nodded and then asked, “so is that why you were in the area?”

“Checkin' up on him,” Dean supplied. “Yep. Course, we ran into Uncle Richard a couple nights ago and he said you were living up here. Decided we had a little time on our hands, thought we could take you out to lunch and catch up a little.”

“Well that sounds great,” Cordy beamed. “I never turn down an offer of food. Unless it comes from the homeless. Or totally strange strangers. But still...”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled, rubbing his stomach. “you're definitely family.” The children chuckled and John turned from glancing at his watch to looking to the other males.

“You'd be welcome to join us,” he began to offer, but Angel waved it away.

“Someone has to stay and man the fort,” he declined and then gestured to himself and Wes. “Besides, you should take the chance to get caught up, without us interrupting. Go ahead Cordy.”

“Are you sure?” she asked quickly. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them and Angel was nodding.

“Our schedule is clear, unless you...” he trailed off and Cordy shook her head.

“No, no incoming messages at all today,” she offered with a tight smile. She whirled back to look at her uncle. “Okay, lunch it is then. I know this great little place just down the street. Burgers are amazing. But if you want a real taste of LA lunch cuisine...” she trailed off as her hand groped to retrieve her purse.

“And what would that be?” Dean wondered as he darted ahead to open the door to the business while John gestured Cordy ahead of himse and brought up the rear.

“Mmm, to die for sushi,” Cordy tittered.

“Ugh! You eat that stuff?” Dean complained from the hallway, his low voice floating back. “And to die for is right. Can't that fugly fish kill you?”

“It's pronounced foo goo and only if it's prepared incorrectly...” Cordelia's voice trailed off and Wes turned to Angel.

“Well, that was... interesting,” he announced and then moved to the desk where Cordelia had deposited her morning's work. He began to rummage through the bags, searching for the blood bags that Cordy had purchased for Angel, to get them into the office refrigerator for later. He never noticed Angel's eyes, dark and sad, staring after the departed party.

“Very interesting,” he murmured, before Wes' grunt as he tried to open the fridge door with an arm full of blood took his attention.