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!
Crowley (to an angel): Why can’t you people just sit on clouds and play harps like you’re supposed to?
Dean Winchester (to Lester): You’ve just got that pervy, ‘I’d do anything to nail my secretary’ look.
Lester (to Dean): I know what an alibi is. I watch Franklin and Bash.
Crowley (to Dean): Who do you think you’re talking to here? Does the Tin Man have a sheet-metal willy? Of course I lied!
Crowley (to Sam about Dean): He’s my best friend, my partner in crime. They’ll write songs about us, graphic novels: The Misadventures of Crowley and Squirrel. Dean Winchester completes me. And that’s what makes you lose your chickens.
Crowley (to Sam about Dean): You don’t care that he’s a demon. Heck, you’ve been a demon. We’ve all been demons.
Dean Winchester: Let’s not argue about good sex.
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