Archive of Our Own ^beta

Izzie couldn't make the call. She had spent days staring at the small black flip Denny had left to her along with most of his other belongings. She carried it around in her pocket, slept with it on the nightstand next to her, thought about it practically every minute of everyday. But she could never make the call.

It rung from time to time. She never answered it no matter who the caller ID said was calling even if it was Denny's children as it happened to be just once. They both called him often when he was in the hospital, more so when he was first admitted and less and less as the days went on and his condition worsened. He didn't pick up the phone either.

It took weeks for him to admit he had led on to a certain extent, to tell her that his name wasn't really Denny and that he had two children, Sam and Dean. She didn't press for reasons why after she'd learned his last marriage ended in his late wife dying. She did, however, press him to answer the phone, to call his kids and tell them the truth. He never did. He wanted to get better before telling them about his heart problems, he wanted to buy her a proper ring before introducing her to his kids.

That was just one mistake added to the long list of wrongs he didn't get to right before his passing.

Izzie folded the brownie batter in the bowl, over and over, watching the flour disappear into the mixture as she baked. She'd made dozens of cupcakes, some frosted with pink and others with white. She'd gotten sick of making muffins and moved onto brownies since she had plenty of baking chocolate. He echoed through her mind as she mixed, his exhausted laughter, his weary smile, his unaware children. The pain hadn't lessened as the days passed, in fact, it might have gotten worse as she made peace with the fact that she'd never get another chance to see him or hold him.

The phone rang again. The caller ID flashing with his eldest sons name. She froze, watching the phone vibrate across the kitchen counter nearly reaching the edge of it. She dropped the spatula into the bowl and reached for the phone before it fell. A few more rings and he'd be sent to voicemail again.

Of all the mistakes Denny had made, his biggest was not being a good enough father to his children. She'd sit and listen to him talk about them all the time, about how bright his youngest son Sam was, going to law school. How his oldest, Dean had always been the glue of the family. He'd drone on about them, about what he was going to say to them when he got out of the hospital, how he planned to make amends.

The phone rung again. She'd have to tell them the truth eventually and she knew the longer she waited the worse it would be. That didn't make it any easier though. Izzie finally flipped the phone open, pressing it to her ear, unable to start the conversation herself.

"Dad?" The voice questioned, relief flooding his tone. "God it's about time, do you know how long we've been trying to find you?"

She sat down at the kitchen table, her legs feeling weak from the thought of breaking the news to him. "Yeah," she said, her voice shaky. "I think I do."

The other end was silent for a while, the echo of breathing was all she could make out aside from the sound of a computer clicking. The dial tone beeped, the call ended and she sighed, shutting it frustratedly. She put her hands in her head, hyperventilating as the oven dinged, signaling it had finished preheating.

She couldn't get up, or stand to put the brownies in the oven. Izzie just stayed there, resting her head on the cool surface of the table. A few moments passed, and the phone rang again. She debated whether or not she should pick it up a second, but eventually after the sixth ring she flipped it back open.

"Who is this?" Dean asked. His voice was deep and gruff, a lot like his fathers. A part of her thought she might start crying just from hearing the similarity. She'd seen photos of his children too, they looked just like him, she thought.

"Uh-" she cleared her throat. "Isobel Stevens- Izzie."

"How did you get this phone?" He pressed. She couldn't determine whether his tone was filled with anger or surprise, maybe a little of both.

"That's a- a complicated question," Izzie responded. "I was one of his doctors at the hospital and-"

"Doctors?" Dean repeated. "What doctors? What hospital?"

Panic, she realized. His voice was filled with panic. He had missed his father, he was afraid something bad might have happened to him and she was about to tell him the worse news she'd ever had to deliver.

Izzie took a deep breath, putting her forehead in her hand for a moment. "Your father came in with some very severe heart problems he-"

"Heart problems?" He repeated, sounding skeptical or perhaps in downright disbelief. That was normal, she thought. But it didn't make it easier.

"Mhm," she squeaked out, as she felt her throat constricting as the seconds passed. "I was one of the doctors treating him over the past few months. He came in with congestive heart failure."

"No," Dean said immediately. "Dad's healthy as a horse, always has been."

Izzie shook her head, trying to tell herself to keep it together, just until the phone call was over. "He had a number of surgeries, his last being a..." She took another deep breath, trying to keep herself from crying. "...a heart transplant."

"Wait," he interrupted again. "Just wait a minute okay? We can't be talking about the same person here."

"I know it's hard to believe and he came in with a different name but it's him, it's your father," Izzie clarified.

"How do you know?" Dean asked. "How can be one hundred percent positive?"

She ran her hand through her hair, silent for a moment. She heard the scuffing of a chair and shuffling of a second pair of footsteps. He shifted the phone so Sam could hear the conversation.

"Because he told me," Izzie said, her voice cracking in pain. "He told me all about you and your brother. About how proud of you he was."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah we definitely ain't talking about the same John Winchester here, he wasn't proud of us a single day in his life."

He was going into denial. She hadn't even said it yet, not out loud at least, and he was already denying it. She denied it to, a part of her was still denying it.

"Yes he was," she whispered. "He went on and on about you, about your brother. He told me about what good kids you were and how he knew you were both destined to do great things. He regretted that fight with Sam more than anything. He wanted to- to pay for the rest of law school when he finished his treatments and make amends with you both, move on without feeling guilty about your mom."

"What the hell do you know about our mother?" Dead asked, bitterly.

"Enough," Izzie answered, the silence enveloped the call, forcing her to finally admit everything. "I was his fiancee."

The static crackled, the phone dropped to the floor, hitting what sounded like wood. "Fiancee?" A second voice, who she knew was probably Sam, picked up the phone. "As in, engaged to be married?"

She nodded to herself. "Yeah. We were going to get married after he got out of the hospital. He wanted to make amends you first though. He thought you wouldn't want to be there but I told him he was crazy, you're his kids, right? How could you not be there."

There was another shift of hands, the phone eventually landing on the table with its volume on speaker. "Why do you keep taking about him in the past tense?" Sam asked. "Where is he? Did he bail on you too?"

"No," Izzie said so quickly her confidence was almost astounding to the boys. "No," she repeated softer. "He would never leave me."

"Alright, so where is he?" Dean questioned, more annoyed by the second, imagining his father falling in love with some doctor while they were worried sick about him.

Izzie thought saying the words might physically kill her, or at least it felt that way. "Gone," she finally admitted out loud for the first time since he died. "We thought- I thought he was going to be fine, but he had a stroke and the strain was too much on his heart."

The silence, as short as it was gave her time to remember every small detail of that day, from the moment she entered his room to the point she had to be carried out of it.

Dean cleared his throat. "You're saying he's dead?"

Izzie breathed, trying to stop herself from crying but failing. "Yes," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"Say it," he demanded after another moment of quiet. She heard Sam muttering his brothers name softly, as if to calm him down or make him accept the truth "No, she's a doctor she has to say it," Dean told him. "Say he's dead."

The truth was until she said it, it wasn't real. For him, for her, for any of them.

"Your father is dead," she managed to say, taking the breath from her lungs as she felt like she might collapse any second. "He's dead," she repeated, wiping the tears as they slid down her cheeks. "He left me. He promised he'd never do that, but he did. He left me, he left all of us."

She sounded heartbroken and angry. And as unbelievable as it sounded, she sounded like she was telling the truth. For the last few months Sam and Dean had been hoping to find him, but that's all it was, hope. They'd both made peace, or at least tried to make peace with the fact that they would probably not find him alive. They were still in shock, but even when they weren't they probably still wouldn't cry because a part of them had already made peace with the idea of his death and what life would be like without him in it. Doctor Stevens clearly hadn't, she was a mess, sobbing hysterically as they stood by the phone, staring at each other in disbelief. Because while she had never imagined losing him it was a truth they had half-expected, despite the fact that they were never fully prepared to confront it.

"I'm sorry," Izzie added, catching her breath, putting her hand over her heart to try to make herself calm down. "I'm so sorry. I knew about you, about how often you called and how worried you were. I should have made him answer the phone, but I- I didn't push him hard enough. He wanted to wait to get better before talking to you and I said okay. That was foolish of me. You're his kids and he's you're dad, you should have been there for him, he should have let you be there for him."

"Yeah," Sam whispered after a minute passed, the shock wearing off and reality setting in again. "He should have."

The line went dead again before she could say anything more, apologize again for all the mistakes she had made when it came to being in love with their father and unable to bring herself to force him to call his kids. She regretted it. She regretted a lot of things when it came to Denny. Not marrying him while he was still alive, leaving him alone for long enough he could have a stroke without anyone realizing.

She could have done so many things differently. Maybe she would have wound up happy. Or maybe, she'd still have ended up here, no fiancee, no wedding, no happily ever after. Just an empty kitchen, a sweater that smelled like him, and the phone he never used to call his son's, surrounded by baked goods, oversalted by all the tears she'd cried while baking. No matter what choices she did or didn't make, this is where she was now. This is where she'd stay, trapped in a cycle of misery and grief, longing for a love she'd never have.