It was a routine hunt. Sam and Dean had heard about a haunting from the news, high tailed it over there, figured out who the ghost was, and prepared to salt and burn it.

They hadn't expected the ghost to possess somebody, though. Or that somebody to be carrying a gun.

Dean should've known better, but he didn't, and he got shot. Blacked out.

When he woke up, he was in a garden. He immediately recognized it, and immediately swore, "Son of a bitch."

It was a garden he'd seen last time he was in Heaven – last time somebody shot him to death.

That meant he was, once again, dead. As nice as Heaven was, Dean wanted out.

Last time he'd wound up here, his angel buddy Cas had sent him right back to life.

He'll do that again, Dean figured.

Or would he? Last time Dean had seen Cas, Cas had beat him up. Almost killed him. Now, he didn't know where Cas was.

Maybe he WAS stuck in the afterlife.

"MEGA son of a bitch."

Oh, well, Dean realized. Not much I can do til Cas decides to crawl outta whatever rabbit hole he's hid himself in.

So, he waited.

As he did, he heard a rustling behind him. He reflexively raised his gun….and so did the person who popped out of the brush.

Dean looked at the guy, and his eyes bugged out: Dude only had one arm.

"I thought they fixed stuff like that once you got up here," Dean couldn't help but comment, lowering his weapon.

"Decided to keep it," drawled the stranger, lowering his own.

"What's your name?" Dean asked.

"Merle Dixon," replied the one-armed man.

"Dean Winchester."

"Nice t'meetcha."

"Didn't think I'd make it here," Dean admitted. He'd been to Hell once, too, already.

"Me neither," confessed Merle.

"So," Dean asked. "What'd you do for a living before you got up here, Merle?" And why did cost you an arm?

"Lately?" Merle chuckled. "Not much but killin' dead things that weren't stayin' dead."

Dean smiled. "Me too."

He figured this Merle guy must be a hunter. After all, in his world, normal people didn't know about the undead.

"How'd you get into that life, Merle?" Dean asked.

"My little brother," Merle sighed. "I was tryin' t'protect 'im."

"Huh," Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "I died protecting my little brother too."

"No kiddin'?"

"Yeah," Dean said, cracking a smile. "My brother, Sammy. After we lost our parents, I swore I'd keep him safe. From everything."

"I swore the same thing to my little brother, Daryl," Merle admitted. "But it looks like neither of us'll be doin' much protectin' no more. Being dead, and all."

"I don't know about that," Dean argued.

"What?" Merle asked. "You gon' be some guardian angel?"

"No," replied Dean. "That's my friend Cas' job."

Just as Dean said that , he felt a strange whoosh and saw a flash of light. When he woke up, Sam was standing over him.

"Dean!" Sam cried. "Thank god! I prayed to Cas to save you – I thought you were dead!"

"So did I," Dean confessed. The look in his eyes was faraway.

"Well," Sam asked with a sigh, "How was Heaven?"

"Not bad," said Dean. "I made a friend."