He doesn't get very far before Dean marches him right back into the autopsy room at gunpoint and pushes his head down onto the exam table. Luckily, the coroner has departed for parts unknown, so they don't have to explain any of this mess. "What are you?" Dean roars at the former corpse. "And if you say 'zombie,' I swear..." The former corpse seems utterly confused. "I'm not anything!" Sam springs into action and shuts the blinds on the window. Nice to know his trialberculosis isn't slowing him down. Dean's not buying the former corpse's plea of ignorance. "Look, two minutes ago you were room temperature. You're something!" The guy doesn't put up a fight or even try to get loose, but he does change his plea just slightly. "I don't know what I am," he says. "I don't know who I am! All I know is, all I do is die! So, if you want to shoot me, shoot me. Just promise me you'll finish the job, because I can't take this anymore." Dean recognizes a fellow sufferer of soul-crushing angst, so he lets the guy up. He keeps his gun out, though, just in case. "All you do is die?" Sam asks. "Once a day, for as long as I can remember," says the intermittent corpse. After a few hours, he comes back to life. Dean's first thought isn't of legend or lore or mythology, but of Kenny from South Park. This just confuses the intermittent corpse, so he says, "No, my name is Shane." Dean says they're going to run some tests on Shane, to make sure he's "kosher," which for just a moment I envisioned as checking to see whether or not he's ever made the acquaintance of a mohel.
Alas, they just take him back to their Motel du Jour to cut his arm and make him sip some holy water. He passes both tests and begins to suspect these guys just might not really be feds. For some reason, they have the same discussion about dying once a day for as long as he can remember that they just had in the morgue. He adds that his memory only goes back a few years. Dean is a bit incredulous. "How do you know your name?" he asks. "My real name isn't Shane," Shane admits. "It was given to me because, I dunno, people had to call me something." And "Shane" was shorter than "you very attractive, slightly scruffy stranger who looks fantastic in a tight henley." Ahem. He goes on to say that people found him on a mountain in Europe after an avalanche. "I don't remember anything from before the rescue," he says. "When I realized my condition, I knew I couldn't be around people." So he built himself a cabin in the woods, which must have taken a long damned time, if he kept dying in the middle of it. Also, how did he get to America from Europe? He says some pot growers in the woods got nervous about him being too close to their crops, so they shot him up a couple of times. No sooner had he decided it was time to move on than he found himself getting mowed down on the highway. So, not only does this guy just die as a matter of course, but he's also very adept at just getting himself killed.