"Stop! Police!" Detective Dean Winchester shouted, leveling his M1911 Colt at the suspect. The man stopped running, hands in the air. The 8 foot tall chain link fence made a perfect clichéd dead end, the jackass had nowhere to go.

"Get on the fucking ground! Hands behind your head!" In broad daylight, it was easy to see him do exactly as ordered. It didn't have to be this hard, all Dean wanted to do was bring the guy in for questioning. And then the idiot ran. Like that's not incriminating at all.

As he slapped cuffs on who he was now certain was the perp, his partner came up behind him panting and sweaty. Dude really needed to work out, especially on his cardio.

"Well," Crowley said, breathing heavily, "You caught the runner." His tone of voice was agitating, and his accent made him sound uppity. Dean scoffed, tugging the criminal to his feet, marching him towards the car.

"Yeah, like I always do," Dean said, "Maybe then I wouldn't always make you do the interrogations." Crowley crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. Dean turned the corner, then stopped suddenly.

His heart was pounding, but this wasn't adrenaline, it wasn't the thrill of the hunt. Something was wrong. His head felt light, and he was out of breath. The world spun and his heart skipped a beat. His chest tightened, and a sharp pain like a knife went through his sternum. He stumbled, and hit the concrete heavily. The last thing he heard before the world went back was Crowley shouting his name.

Dean came to on a gurney in the back of an ambulance. He groaned, hearing EMTs make note of his vitals. He still felt short on breath, and his chest ached. Many complex terms were tossed back and forth, like "arrhythmia" or something like that. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. One doc put a stethoscope to his chest and had him take deep breaths. The look on her face told him it wasn't good. He closed his eyes and made a loud grumble of agitation to make sure the emts knee he didn't faint again. If this was nothing, he was never going to hear the end of it from Crowley. If it was bad… Well, he wasn't going to think about that.

They wheeled him into the E.R., rattling off his symptoms to a doctor who would take over his main care. Once he was in his "room", that he was sharing with some random kid, they took his medical history. The nurse was very focused on heart problems in particular, and he was getting pretty frustrated with not knowing what's going on. The nurse then asked to listen to Dean's lungs. A red flag went up in Dean's mind, recalling the EMT's concern over something they heard. Dean agreed, lifting his undershirt. The metal was cold on his chest.

"Mind telling me what the hell is going on?" He asked the guy. The nurse frowned, listening to his breathing. Dean's chest still felt fluttery, and his heart hadn't quite gone back to normal, but it was getting there. Breathing was less difficult, and his head felt much better, minus the bump and scrape he got when he fainted.

"Have you experienced any swelling in your legs or feet? Maybe in your neck?" The nurse started to palpate his neck, feeling his glands.

"Uh, maybe a little? Like after a long day sometimes my shoes feel tight." He had no idea what this had to do with anything, "What does that have to do with me fainting?" The nurse crossed his arms and looked around.

"What about an irregular heartbeat and shortness of breath?" Dean frowned.

"Yeah, usually after I run or workout. Everyone gets tired after exercise." The nurse sighed.

"I shouldn't be telling you this, it's the doctor's job. But you're exhibiting symptoms of late stage cardiomyopathy."

"Cardiomyo-what now?" Dean asked, concerned.

"It's a thickening of the heart muscle. The tissue becomes enlarged and rigid, making it difficult to pump oxygen properly, and can cause fluid buildup, swelling, shortness of breath, and dizziness. You've got most of the obvious symptoms. Your doctor will probably order some tests to see if that's the problem, then we'll go from there." The nurse looked back at the door, "I have to get back to work, change into your gown and lie down. If you need to use the bathroom, page a nurse. We don't want you doing anything to exert yourself." Dean nodded solemnly as the nurse left the room.

He pulled out his phone and called his younger brother Sam. He'd probably ditch class and come visit him here as soon as he hears. The phone rang once, then again and went straight to voicemail. Sammy's definitely in class right now. His next move was to call Crowley.

"Hello Squirrel," The snarky bastard answered immediately, "Glad to know you're alive and well."

"Hello to you too," Dean rolled his eyes, "I'm in the hospital, apparently there's something pretty wrong so I'll be out for a while, no idea how long. You get back to the precinct okay? Did the guy talk?"

"Yes and yes. I'll let your best friend Luci know that you won't be back in for a while due to your emergency. In the meantime, I'll take care of everything. You enjoy your beauty sleep. Ta-ta." Crowley hung up. Dean sighed and let his head drop back onto the pillow. He looked at the hospital gown at the foot of the bed. Ugh, he hated hospitals.

Now appropriately dressed, he relaxed back into the bed. The little box tv that was bolted to the wall was playing some kind of kids cartoon. Dean figured it must be the kid on the other side of the curtain watching. He took a swig of the water the nurse had left for him and started to check his emails on his phone. Might as well do something while he waited for the doctor. Or for Sammy to get out of class. Whichever came first.

Turns out, Sam's class ended before the doctor came in. Dean answered the phone in the most cheerful tone he could manage. "Hey Sammy!"

"Dean? What's going on?" Sam said, "You never call during the day." Yeah, cause he was usually at work.

"Yeah, there was a mishap at work, but I'm okay. I'm in the hospital-"

"Hospital!?" Sammy practically shouted, "Dean if you're in the hospital you are not okay!"

Dean flinched and grimaced, "Yeah alright, I'm not okay. I don't know what's going on. And they aren't going to let me walk without doing some tests. I'm still waiting on the doctor. They don't even want me walking right now… Look Sammy, I know it's crazy, but I want you to finish your classes for today before coming here."

"I just did." Sam said, sounding like he's power walking. Kid's freakishly long legs would have him at his car in no time. "I'll be there soon. You call Dad?"

"No. Dad doesn't need to know." Dean frowned. His dad was always distant. Even though Dean had done everything expected of him, went to the Police Academy, got promoted to his old man's old job, and the guy still wasn't proud of him. Sam didn't answer. "I gotta go, don't know when the doc is gonna get in but I shouldn't keep 'em waiting while I'm on the phone."

"Yeah, see you soon Dean."

"See you." Dean ended the call and looked around the room quietly. Now to wait some more. Ahh, emails.

30 minutes later, the doctor walked into the room, followed closely by Sam. Awesome, they both finally got here.

"Hey Dean." Sam said with a worried smile. Dean grinned cheerfully, masking the concern in his heart.

"Hey Sammy!" He said, "Hey Doc, what's the word?"

"I've gone over your symptoms, Mr. Winchester. I'd like to run some tests if that's okay with you." Dean nodded as the nurse from before walked back into the room. "We're going to be doing the routine bloodwork, but I have you scheduled for an EKG and a chest x-ray later today. We're a little worried about your heart." Dean through a glance at the nurse, who was prepping his arm for the needle.

"What's wrong with it?" Dean asked.

"Hopefully nothing, but right now you're exhibiting symptoms of dilated cardiomyopathy. The tests will tell us what's really going on. You should have nothing to worry about." The doctor made some notes on her clipboard.

"Alrighty, well if you could email me some kinda doctor's note, I'd like to have proof for my boss if you don't mind. And maybe your number too, in case of an emergency…" Dean winked. Sam rolled his eyes, and the doctor was unfazed.

"I can send the note for you, Mr. Winchester. If you need anything, you may pull the cord for the nurses." And she left the room. Dean winced as the nurse stuck the butterfly into his vein. He watched in silence as the tube filled with his blood, and splashed into the vials. The nurse took several of them, then pulled the needle out and gave him a little bandage to cover it up.

Sam sat in the visitor's chair, his face looking grim as he stared at his phone. Dean, put off by his brother's mood, turned his focus to the television. Still children's cartoons, but Dean wasn't going to admit he'd gotten kinda into it while watching. The kid in the other bed was pretty chill, especially considering her nasty broken leg. She was waiting on surgery to screw her shin bone back together.

"Dean…" Sam started, "I looked up that thing that the doctors are going to test you for… Cardiomyopathy… It's not good."

"Don't worry Sammy, you know I can take anything the world throws at me. I always bounce back!" Dean smiled, lifting his arms to flex teasingly. Sam didn't look convinced, but he shut his mouth surprisingly fast. This wasn't like his little brother. Dean's smiled faded as he grew concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Dean, if they're right, it could kill you." Sam's eyes grew wet, "You might need major surgery, and I'm scared that you could die before you get better." Dean had been trying to block thoughts like that out. He knew that if something was wrong with his heart, it couldn't possibly end well for him.

"Well, if I die, feel free to kick my behind," Dean forced a stupid grin. Sam couldn't help but laugh.

"Behind?" He asked, completely caught off guard by Dean's choice of language. Dean jerked his thumb at the curtain, which said everything Sammy needed to know. He wasn't going to say "ass" when the kid could hear him. Sam shook his head, looking at least a little cheered up.

The hours ticked by. Sam had opened up his laptop and started on his homework. Dean was proud of his little brother, his intelligence, his drive for success. It's no wonder this kid is in law school. Dean had gone back to his phone, forwarding the doctor's note to Lucifer, his supervisor. The only reply he got was a short "okay". Well at least that was taken care of.

Then some more doctors came to roll him to the x-ray room where they took several images of his chest. Dean repressed a sigh as he stood stiffly in the lead vest, while the machine snapped pictures. He then turned to the side and they took more. The techs came back into the room to relieve him of the vest, then he was in the wheelchair again for his EKG.

In the new room, Dean eased himself down onto the table. More techs pulled his cloth gown down so it bared his chest. He shivered as they adhered several sticky electrodes to his chest, arms, and legs. They asked him to relax and breathe normally. He closed his eyes and did as he was asked. After what felt like forever, they peeled the stickers off, wiping the remaining goo from his skin.

They rolled him into the next room, which had another EKG machine and a treadmill. Dean listened as one tech applied new electrodes, he would be required to walk at a brisk pace while they recorded his heartbeat again. Dean stood up and stepped onto the machine, holding the handrails and placing his feet on the stationary sides. The tech started the treadmill and Dean started walking. It took 10 minutes of speed walking before the test was over. Dean sat down heavily in the wheelchair and he was rolled back to his room.

Sam was pacing anxiously in the hall, but looked relieved when Dean returned. He helped his older brother back into the hospital bed and thanked the nurse when they were informed that the results would be back in the morning.

"You go home, Sammy." Dean said, "I don't want to keep Jess from you, and you have class again tomorrow." Sam frowned, but didn't argue. He gave Dean a hug instead, and left with promises to come back as soon as he finished class for the day. Dean smiled and waved him goodbye, then put the bed into a horizontal position and tried to get some sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, Dean discovered that he loved hospital food. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a glass of orange juice. The breakfast of champions. The little girl next bed over went in for surgery about an hour later, giving Dean control of the TV. He flipped it to the next channel, where a reporter mentioned something about "another young adult dying of a stroke". Such a shame. Dean pressed the button again until he spotted the medical drama called Doctor Sexy. Now this he could get into.

Several hours later, his unconscious neighbor returned, and he mournfully switched the channel back to the kids shows for when she woke up. Doctor Sexy wasn't exactly appropriate for kids. He checked his emails again, paged the nurse for a bathroom trip, then browsed the internet some more.

His doctor walked in and politely coughed to get his attention. "Mr. Winchester?"

"Yeah?" Dean asked, giving her one of his signature grins. Her expression didn't change.

"I've gone over your test results, and I'm afraid I have some bad news." Dean's face fell and his breath caught in his throat. "You are suffering from late stage dilated cardiomyopathy. If not taken care of, you will die."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "So… What options do I have?"

"Scarring in the heart muscles will make it too difficult to keep your heart going with medications, or even a pacemaker. Your best option is a heart transplant. We have a compatible heart available here, you could go into surgery as early as later today. I'd recommend taking your time, thinking it over-"

"There's nothing to think about. If I don't get that transplant, I'll die. Whatever forms you need me to sign, I'll do it. I've got too much to lose if I don't." The doctor was silent for a minute. Then she nodded and went to print out the necessary paperwork.

Dean picked up the phone and called Sam to let him know what was going on, leaving a lengthy voicemail. He put the cell down on the table and leaned back with his eyes closed. There was no way he was going to roll over and let himself die. No, he was going to live.