Dean Winchester (to Rowena): What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Sorry, did I say nice girl, I meant evil sk*nk.
Dean Winchester: When in doubt, eat.
Dean Winchester (to Sam): So even ghosts are online? … Oh yeah, sure Sammy, we’ll just kill the Internet. Wait, can we?
Dean Winchester (to Sam): This is unreal. Look at this, I got Italian, I got Chinese, server yourself fro-yo. College is better than Vegas.
Sam Winchester: Are you saying if you died and I drove your car, you’d kill me? Dean Winchester: If you stunk her up with taquitos, probably.
Sam Winchester: Are you saying if you died and I drove your car, you’d kill me?
Dean Winchester: If you stunk her up with taquitos, probably.
Dean Winchester (to Sam): There was a Taylor Swift song on the bus that I hopped to the motel and I liked it, Sam. I liked it a lot.
Dean Winchester (to Castiel): Some chick bolting on you is not an emergency. That’s every Friday night for Sam.
Dean Winchester: I have this code: No cash for ass.
Dean Winchester (to Sam): Real men don’t drink out of cups this small.
Dean Winchester: If there was singing, and that’s a big if, if there was singing, it would be classic rock. Not this Andrew Floyd Webber crap!
Dean Winchester (to Lester): You’ve just got that pervy, ‘I’d do anything to nail my secretary’ look.
Dean Winchester: Let’s not argue about good sex.
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