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.

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...

Fiction LitG02- Misconceptions

Title: Living In The Gray

Chapter Title: Misconceptions...

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 Two

Misconceptions...

It was easy to see that John was completely shell shocked by the so called news that his brother in law had conveyed to him that evening. Hell, Dean was as well, but given his propensity for placing his family before himself, he knew that he needed to keep a clear head to help his father keep from losing his own.

“Dad, think about this,” he warned softly as he took a seat on the bed opposite from the one his father was perched on. “You didn't cheat on mom. And Aunt Elaine hiring a nurse, even in that day and age to... to... steal your junk!” was the best euphemism he could come up with and he was relieved when he was rewarded with a small, bemused smile from his father before John went back to brooding. Finally, at long last he sighed.

“You don't understand Dean,” he shook his head slowly, painful memories and old wounds rising up. “Elaine was... she always, always got what she wanted. She was the type of bitch that figured she was entitled.” He glanced away, towards the rest of the small motel room they had taken. “And when she had Cordelia...”

“What Dad?” Dean implored, hating seeing his father brought low by these people that weren't good enough to wipe shit off of his father's shoe.

When his father glanced back up it was easy to see that he wasn't quite in the present day anymore. “Every time she came over or we were over there, she was always putting little Cordelia in Mary's arm, smiling so...” he broke off in a choked voice. He glanced up at his son and shook his head slowly. “Said we had to get used to it since you weren't a baby anymore, always teasing us about when we'd have another.” He inhaled sharply as he seemed to remember something else. “I always had the sense... I remember thinking one time, the look on that woman's face. It was like she had no interest in her daughter unless we were there. If we weren't there, then Cordelia had no value. I-!”

“That's not your fault Dad,” Dean hastened to assure his father, reaching out to clap him gently on the shoulder. But John was shaking his head.

“You don't understand Dean,” John argued softly. “Things weren't...” His voice was sounding full and heavy, sorrowful and Dean could see it was costing his father, trying to keep the tears back. But he had always wondered if his father needed to talk about his mother more. His father was a soldier, in more ways than one, and compartmentalizing was the name of the game. But sometimes it could get to be too much and implosion was even messier, because it always turned into explosion and took out people you never meant it to.

It wasn't like Dean wanted his father to turn into a mushy gooey, mess of emotions. Just let the pressure off once in a while. And this was obviously one of those times.

“You can tell me Dad,” he leaned in to look his father in his eyes. “I'm a big boy now. And I know,” he swallowed heavily as well, “that I've idolized Mom all my life. But she was human too. She had to have made some mistakes in her life, right?” It nearly killed something inside to have to say it, but even as it had come out of his mouth, he realized that he was right. “Just like you, me, Sammy, hell, every damn person on this earth.”

“Yeah,” John chuckled without humor.

His father took in several deep breaths, looking like he was trying to gird himself against whatever was causing him the pain in his memories. Trying to build up his defenses against the memories. It took him some time, but he finally admitted, much to Dean's shock, “your mother left me. It wasn't for very long and you were still little, of course,” he gasped out and Dean's eyes were wide. But the immediate question on his tongue slipped out automatically.

“Why?”

John was shaking his head in response. “I always asked that of myself too,” he informed his eldest son. “I didn't understand. One day she was home. I went out on a short jaunt with the Marines. When I got back, she had packed a bag for her and your stuff and was staying in a long term motel suite.”

“Did she give any reason why or...?” Dean mumbled, trying to wrap his head around this new information. John was now the one reaching for his son to bolster his flagging confidence.

“The first time we talked, I was upset, because I hadn't any indication that she was that unhappy, that desperate,” John replied, tears in his eyes, but he tried valiantly to blink them away. “Your mother wasn't exactly calm herself. It was like she was just waiting for the moment I called to unload everything. Neither of us were making much sense.” He sighed once more and rolled his eyes heavenward.

“I can see that,” Dean finally shrugged after a moment. It was how it happened between him and Sammy. They could hold it in, resorting to teasing and bugging one another until it finally got to be too much for one or the other and then they'd blow. Everything would get laid out on the table and then, when the air cleared, it was back to business as usual. But parents... that was different.

“Anyway,” John moistened his lips and continued, “when I finally got your mother to talk to me again, she was going on about my having lied to her, going behind her back and betraying her.” He watched as Dean's face contorted slightly. “All of the things that she was upset about, some were valid. I had promised to give up the Marines when you came along, so that she wasn't having to do it all herself. But I found it more difficult than I had thought it would be and I kept making excuses. That was on me.”

Dean smirked slightly. It was a novel thing, to hear his father admit to wrongdoing.

“So there was that issue,” John sighed, “which really, was pretty big. And at the time, I thought...”

“Thought what Dad?” Dean urged his father to share. John was shaking his head and pursing his lips now.

“I wonder now if Elaine...” he began, looking his son in the eye for a moment before tearing his eyes away. “If she said something. If she told your mother?” he wondered. He stood abruptly and began to pace around the room. “She never made it a secret that she wanted something from me. And your mother, out of respect for Richard downplayed it, so I did as well. I wasn't interested in her. She was a viper. And we always ended up laughing it off .But now, some of the things your mother accused me of... Well now, I think I understand where they were coming from.”

“She made mom think that you had an affair with her after all,” Dean connected, swallowing a small surge of bile at the thought of his father betraying his mother, which he knew could never happen. But given what his parents thought this woman was capable of, the pain that his mother must have felt seemed viscerally real to him at this moment.

“It didn't last long,” John frowned. “You two were only gone for about a month.”

“A month?” Dean scoffed. “Did we...?” he began, but didn't know how to ask. John turned to face his son and softened a little.

“After that first week,” he began, “I used to come by after work every day to see you. Your mom would stay in the bedroom and we'd play. Sometimes eat some dinner that I'd pick up at the local diner. On the weekends, if I was available, we'd go down to the park. I took you swimming once.” He laughed then. “Your mother was so mad at me for that.”

“Why would she be mad? Dean demanded, though he had a small grin on his face as his father did.

“It was pretty chilly out,” John grinned at the memory. “She was going on at me for letting you outside with a wet head. But you were just so proud of yourself, that you went off the diving board and all the neat tricks you got to do.”

“Really?” Dean scoffed. John nodded proudly.

“You always were a brave kid,” he complimented and then shook his head. “Always ready to rush in. A little bit foolish, you ask me.”

“Well come on,” Dean half whined, pleased to see his father recalling something good. “Where's the fun in sitting on the sidelines?”

“Anyway,” John resumed his seat, “you were so proud of yourself that your Mom just couldn't stay mad, at either of us, I guess. We actually talked that day, quite a bit. But then I went and reminded her that I wouldn't be available the next weekend.”

“Marines?” Dean asked pointlessly. But John nodded anyways.

“But for some reason,” he mused, glancing upwards again, as he thought his way through things, “that seemed to be a changing point. She asked me about some other maneuvers we'd been on. I gave her the answers, but she wouldn't say why she wanted to know. The next week, she brought you home and while that was great, we also sat down and figured out a game plan to deal with this rift.”

Dean listened to his father's words, trying to be objective about it, hear it from an outsider's point of view. Which, in a way, not remembering these events, he was. But it was still his parents and either one of them in pain was something more than he could tolerate. Something clicked in his mind and he snapped his fingers once. “Dad, is it possible that Elaine used a certain time, when you were gone, as evidence? I mean, if Mom was already upset about you being gone and Elaine was as much a bitch about everything? Those type of women don't stop to always think things through. They just go for what they want. And if Mom had what she wanted, she'd probably use any means necessary...”

His father looked thoughtful for a moment and slowly nodded. “You been watching Oprah again boy?”

“No!” Dean denied indignantly. He had, though this hadn't been a topic of discussion. “It just makes sense, doesn't it? And if that's what she used as proof, well, it should have been easy enough for Mom to check out. She had access to your past records as your spouse, right?”

“Yeah,” John nodded. “That was just a weekend of practice maneuvers, nothing covert, so she could have requested access to it. Things were pretty lax back then.”

“So Mom did the smart thing and checked out your whereabouts and found out Elaine was lying,” Dean nodded. “She was wrong so she came back.”

“And maybe it was a good thing,” John sighed heavily, then chuckled at his son's wide eyes at that admission. “It brought things to a head about the other problems,” he explained. “It was tough, but your Mom and I? We came through it a hell of a lot stronger. That also,” he mused, “explains why your mom started distancing herself from Elaine. And Richard and the baby.”

“See? Dean almost gloated at having been proved right. But then the sinking weight fell back onto his shoulders. “So how do we figure out... I mean, we've already pinned Elaine for a cold hearted viper. Is it really possible?” he wanted to know. It seemed his father did as well. But at the same time there was something in John's eyes. John didn't want to know, because he had his two boys to protect. If he didn't acknowledge Cordy as his daughter, it would keep her safer in this world they lived in, than if he did. But still the thought that she was his girl, he had to know that she was okay.

“You know,” Dean was grinning at his father, understanding perfectly well the man's reasoning without if ever having been stated. “It would be perfectly acceptable for Uncle and favorite Cuz to check in with her. See how she's adjusting to living on her own in this big bad world. As long as we don't... stay long.”

“Dean... I...” John began, but his eldest could see the yearning in his father's eye. Not for a child other than his own boys. But to see the little girl that he had loved before any of this madness had come about. Dean pushed down his own worries and hurts that automatically tried to swim up to the surface. His Dad needed this reassurance and there was no way in hell he'd detract from that. Besides, he was kinda curious about her.

“We'll go tomorrow,” Dean decided, scooting down the edge of the bed to remove the phone book from the drawer of the nightstand. He flipped open to the C's and quickly found Chase. Finding her name was easy. Her phone number as well. And the address in the fine print as well. Dean turned the book and held it up to his father. “See, easy as pie.”

And just like that, it was decided.

Chapter Three- Poppa?

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?