In your defense, you have no idea how you keep doing this. Dying.

For a while now, you've been dead and resurrected more times than you'd like to admit. You have no idea who resurrected you so many times, over and over again, giving you hundreds of chances repeatedly, but you never once complained.

Not too long ago, you found out who was behind this. Castiel, an angel, who you didn't understand why he would help you each time. Of course, you believed he was God's favorite because he was able to always give you chances without being held back. Last time you returned back in your flesh and bones, very much alive, you had to give something in return. A favor. You helped the Winchesters, made a few friends, blah blah blah.

This time you could've sworn you were precise with your aim while handling that damned gun—and you were so wrong.

"I can't seem to understand how you keep getting yourself in these life threatening situations that eventually lead to death." Castiel spoke, unhappy to see you back. Again. "At this point it feels like you're competing with the Winchesters. Although, I believe you passed their numbers combined." He sighed, thinking you should help with something again if he'd bring you back. "You really need to learn how to avoid meeting Death so oftenly. He seems to be getting tired of you."