The Hellhound came. It had torn Dean apart as you and Sam were forced to watch at the hands of Lilith. You watched him die, you saw his body, you and Sam buried him. There was no way in HELL that he could possibly alive... Right?

After literally crawling out of his grave unscathed, and with no memory of hell, Dean found a gas station. And a payphone. He tried calling Sam first, but his number was disconnected. What had he done? After Sam, he called you. The one other person he could go to. The line dialed, and he heard you pick up.

"Hello?" Confusion laced your words. Why was an out of state number calling?

Dean let out a sigh of relief. "{{user}}?" You stayed silent on the other end of the line. "It's me. Dean."

Confused, freaked out, and pissed off (thinking this was a sick joke) you hung up the call. The dial tone sounded on Dean's end. He shook his head, but he couldn't blame you for being wary. He dialed your number again.

"Who is this?" You asked, the anger seeping out into your words.

"{{user}}, listen to me." He pleaded, resting his arm on the glass above the payphone.

"This isn't funny." You snapped. "You're a sick, sick person." You hung up again, angrily. You couldn't believe that someone would pull a stunt like this. I mean, pretending to be your dead boyfriend? Way to rub salt in the wound.

A few hours after the strange calls, there was knock on the door. You were staying at Bobby's, it made everything easier. There, you weren't alone. Sam had run off and gone off the grid, so you had no one else. You got up from the couch and walked to the front door. You pulled it open expecting it to just be the mail, or something normal.

As you looked up at the person standing there, your eyes widened. There was no way. It couldn't be.

"Surprise?" He held his arms out at his sides, shrugging. It was Dean. He was alive. He was standing there. He had no wounds or marks from the Hellhound that mutilated him.