Buried

Disclaimer: I do not own Grey's Anatomy or Supernatural.

Summary: Denny Duquette's other life just rolled into Seattle Grace in the form of two bloody, nearly dead brothers named Winchester. [Supernatural Crossover]

Timeline: Grey's Anatomy: Takes place after Damage Case and BEFORE 17 Seconds. Denny is 45 years old, and Izzie is 30 (she took a few years off to model).

Supernatural: AU more or less. The guys never found their Dad. So, place Caleb everywhere John has been in the series. Post: AU Devil's Trap. John is 45 years old. Dean is 27 and Sam is 23.

Notes: Re-writing. Chapter Two is UP! This is what happens when I have no valentine. From now on, bi weekly updates, I'd expect.

All my days were spent by a telephone

Never rang and all I needed was a phone call"

Fray, You Found Me

The next hour of Izzie Steven's life (and internship) was spent tracking down the two boys who had wheeled past Denny's room and shook her faith in knowing exactly who Denny Duquette was. Three favors and one terrible sprint up the stairs to OR1 had left Izzie with 'relative duty' for the third person in what appeared to be a hit and run.

She had been going through his personal effects, ignoring the bloodstains that drenched near everything before finally (finally!) finding the wallet. Carefully, the opened the blood stiffened leather, to an ID. Caleb Harrington was the dead man's name and all the way from Kansas.

I think you and Toto were too far from home Dorthy she thought, before using a nearby computer in the office to get his records and next of kin information. It took a few phone calls and some haggling with Lawrence General before they would release the number, but when they did, it was the number of a John Winchester.

The name was familiar for her, so Izzie Stevens glanced back at the two kids ID's who were in surgery. One had a totally fake ID (no one named their child Kirk Hammett, Jr. nowadays) and the other had the last name of Winchester. The rest of the ID was destroyed, crushed to bits and covered in things that Izzie didn't want to contemplate.

Dialing the number on the sticky note before her, Izzie waved at Denny. He smiled at her before going back to the newspaper in front of him, circling obituaries and writing notes in the margins. She had once asked him why he did it. He had frowned before placing the newspaper far enough away that her prying eyes couldn't see anything, muttering something about how old habits died hard.

She hadn't pushed Denny. She was too scared too – afraid that she'd be the one to push him over the edge and she'd loose her loving man. But, she had no idea of what he was really like outside the hospital, when he hadn't had a heart condition. Sure, she knew everything there was about his medical case, but she knew nothing of his real life. If he had been married, had kids, oh god – maybe he still had a wife!

The abrupt end of the ringing of the phone reminded Izzie that she was at work, and at work she shouldn't worry about her personal life at work. She needed to work on separating herself from the cases, but those two boys laying on those stretchers were about her age, looking so young and venerable.

The answering machine recording began. "This is John Winchester. I can't help you right now, but if you need help call my son, Dean, at this number –"

She jotted down the number and called again, to make sure she has it right. Glancing up at Denny, who was still engrossed in his newspaper, she couldn't help but compare the gruff tones to the commanding tone earlier. Tinged in desperation as he asked for her to look into those two boys, it was nearly the same.

But many people sounded different on the phone, and it couldn't be him. It wasn't him, because Denny didn't have any kids. He would have told her if he did. He trusted her like that.

But still, Izzie was reminded of how little she knew about him.

Hospital phone in hand, she dialed the second number. It went straight to voicemail, again, but the message was different – a boy begging for help.

"Dad, if you call us, and God, I hope you are, we're in Seattle. Caleb is with us, he disappeared for a while back in April, but we found him, almost dead and bleeding out on a bed. But Dad," the young voice broke. "I don't think it's him. Where are you? Sammy and I, we, damnit Dad, we need you. We need you now. Please Dad, remember your promise?"

The message ended there, and Izzie was left dumbfounded. She turned back to the database, searching for a Dean Winchester in the records, looking for his file. It was, like Caleb's, in Lawrence General. She picked the plastic phone again, dialing for the records center when Bailey caught her.

"Steven's!" she roared, nearly making Izzie fall out of her seat. "I placed you on scut, so why the hell are you at the nurse's using the phone."

Seattle Grace's resident nazi stood with her hands on her hips, glaring down at her young intern. Izzie shrunk into herself, fearful of the legendary anger of the tiniest woman in the hospital. "Um," she fumbled, waiting for the elevator music on the phone to end. "I was stuck with calling Caleb Harrington's next of kin."

Dr. Miranda Bailey didn't lift her deathly gaze and the words began to spill from Izzie's mouth. "Well, he had a John Winchester listed and I called to leave him a message, and he had a number for his son, Dean, listed, so I called the son and he said he was in Seattle with Mr. Harrington, so I'm trying to find his medical records to see if he is one of the two boys who came in with the car accident."

She sat still, waiting for Bailey to say something, anything, when a voice got back on the line. Her eyes widened at the information, before she stuttered out a reply and placed the phone back in its rocker.

"What was that about?" Bailey intoned, curiosity creeping in.

Izzie couldn't put it into words, moving her mouth up and down before finally saying, "Dean Winchester is dead."

"And?" Bailey drawled, getting close to angry again.

"And!" Izzie flapped her arms around, trying to make a point. "Dean Winchester is in OR1 now, where Dr. Burke is trying to save him."

"How exactly do you know that?"

The blond intern pointed at her screen, where a digital picture of Dean Winchester (from his driver's license) was downloading. "I saw his face when I collected his things. That is the face I saw in the OR, younger, but the same face."

Bailey stilled.

"I want you to double check his medical file, get a copy faxed over here, and any records on this John Winchester and any other family members," she barked at her intern, who nodded, picking up the phone and ready to dial Lawernece General a third time in the last hour.

Something wrong was going on here, and Miranda Bailey wanted to know. Now.