Mary Winchester: Dean. Sam. I'm sorry.
Sam Winchester: For what?
Mary Winchester (to the spirit): You get out of my house. And let go of my son.
Sam Winchester: I have these nightmares.
Dean Winchester: I've noticed.
Sam Winchester: And sometimes they come true.
Dean Winchester: Come again?
Sam Winchester: Look, Dean... I dreamt about Jessica's death for days before it happened.
Dean Winchester: Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence.
Sam Winchester: No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything... I didn't do anything about it because I didn't believe it.
Sam Winchester: When we finally do find dad, I don't know if he's even gonna want to see me.
Dean Winchester: Sam, dad was never disappointed in you. Never. He was scared.
Sam Winchester: What are you talking about?
Dean Winchester: He was afraid of what could have happened to you if he wasn't around. But even when you two weren't talking, he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could, keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe.
Dean Winchester: Dad never treated us like that.
Sam Winchester: Well, dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. You don't remember?
Dean Winchester: Maybe he had to raise his voice, but sometimes you were out of line.
Sam Winchester: Right. Right, like when I said I'd rather play soccer than learn bow hunting.
Dean Winchester: Bow hunting's an important skill.
Sam Winchester: Whatever.
Dean Winchester: Growing up in a place like this would freak me out.
Sam Winchester: Why?
Dean Winchester: The manicured lawns, the "how was your day, honey?" I'd blow my brains out.
Sam Winchester: There's nothing wrong with normal.
Dean Winchester: I'd take our family over normal any day.
Dean Winchester: I know a good place to start. I'm kind of hungry for a little barbecue, how about you? What, we can't talk to the locals?
Sam Winchester: And the free food's got nothing to do with it?
Dean Winchester: Of course not. I'm a professional.
Sam Winchester: You know, we could get day jobs once in a while.
Dean Winchester: Hunting's our day job, and the pay is crap.
Sam Winchester: Yeah, but hustling pool, credit-card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, Dean.
Dean Winchester: Well, let's see... Honest... fun and easy... It's no contest. Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do.
Sam Winchester: How we were raised was jacked.
Dean Winchester: Yeah, says you.
Dean Winchester: Oh, the thought of him driving my car.
Sam Winchester: Aw, come on.
Dean Winchester: It's killing me.
Sam Winchester: Let it go.
Sam Winchester: We got another house to find.
Dean Winchester: The only problem is there's a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone.
Sam Winchester: See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.
Dean Winchester: Oh, college boy. Thinks he's so smart.
Dean Winchester: You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger... you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.
Sam Winchester: How do you do it? How does Dad do it?
Dean Winchester: Well, for one, them. I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable. I'll tell you what else helps. Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.
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