Dead is dead. Or at least that's the way it's supposed to be. You log a certain number of hours and get put on an express train to Heaven or Hell depending on which way your scales tipped. To Lizbeth Oswald, the idea of being dead wasn't that troubling. After she bit it there was nothing she could do either way. You do your best and then that's it. Dead is dead. She sure as hell never expected to be the punchline of some giant cosmic joke. Being born into the life of a hunter taught you to manage your expectations. Flea-infested motels, few if any friends, your dad leaves you with his curmudgeony old hunting buddy for 'a few days' and never shows up again-you learn to take life in stride. You learn to handle yourself. Which was why being killed off at 22 after one tango with a pissy demon dressed up as her roommate was so damn embarrassing. Dead was dead, right? Thems were the rules. Waking up in a pine box three years later had a way of making Lizbeth rethink that definition. Not that Lizbeth could dwell on it that long, seeing as there's an Apocalypse going on and apparently she has a job to do. Oh, and there's some blonde idiot who's apparently in the exact same boat as she is. Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Any similarity in content or dialogue originated with the show. HUGE THANK YOU! The lovely cover to this is actually a magnificent poster made for me by one @januarylily aka missjanuarylily.tumblr.com. She is a magnificent human being who is far too generous for this world and humanity should look to her as an example as we try to improve the world.