Sam: Burning the painting didn't get rid of it
Dean: Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious
Dean: (talking about his dad) You know I love the guy but I swear he writes like freaking Yoda.
Bela: Do you really think this is going to work?
Dean: Almost definitely not.

Bela: So, how'd things go last night with Peter?
Bela: That well, huh.
Dean: If you say "I told you so," I swear to God, I'll start swinging

Dean:You know what? I’m not going to kill her. I think slow torture’s the way to go
Dean:You stink like sex
Dean: Can I shoot her?
Sam: Not in public
Sam: I think it's Snow White
Dean: Snow White? Ah, I saw that movie. Oh, the porn version anyway.
Dean: Your half-caf, double vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Francis.
Dean: We don't? Well, we should. You're my brother.
Sam: You're my brother.
Dean: Yeah!
Sam: You know, that's what you said when you snaked my ATM card, or when you bailed on my graduation, or when you hooked up with Rachel Nayv.
Dean: Who?
Sam: Uh, my prom date. On prom night.
Dean: *under his breath* Yeah, that does kinda sound like me.
Sam: This is the dumbest thing you've ever done.
Dean: I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?
Henricksen: You think you're funny?
Dean: I think I'm adorable.

Dean: Ya' know she could be faking.
Sam: Yeah, what do you wanna do, poke her with a stick?
Dean: *nods*
Sam: Dude, you're not gonna poke her with a stick?

Dean : What do you want me to do, Sam, huh? Sit around all day writing sad poems about how I’m going to die? You know what, I’ve got one. Let’s see, what rhymes with "Shut up, Sam"?
Dean : You fudging touch me again, I'll fudging kill you!
Dean: I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!
Dean: We might even run into Fred and Daphnie inside. Mmmm... Daphnie. I love her.
Dean: Come on man. I know Sam, OK? Better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than I do. I mean the guy feels guilty searching the internet for porn.
Dean: I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot.
Dean: We know a little about a lot of things; just enough to make us dangerous.
Dean: Damn cops.
Sam: They were just doing their job.
Dean: No. They were doing our job, only they don't know it so they suck at it.
Dean: I like him. He says okie dokie.
Dean : As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.
Sam : Kids are the best?
Dean : Yeah, I love kids.
Sam : Name three children that you even know.
Dean : (scratches head)
Sam : (walks away)
Dean : I'm thinking!
Dean : Ugh, the thought of him driving my car.
Sam : Oh, c'mon.
Dean : It's killing me!
Dean : Man, you're a lying bastard! I thought you said we were going to see a doctor.
Sam : I believe I said specialist. Look Dean, this guy is supposed to be the real deal.
Dean : I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent!
Dean : You better take care of that car. Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.
Sam : I don't think that's funny.
Dean : Oh come on, it's a little funny.
Sam : Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted.
Dean : You know what, there's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they ride on silver moonbeams, and that they shoot rainbows out of their ass!
Sam : (looking heartbroken) Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?
Dean : (Looks concerned for a moment, then catches on.) Cute.
Dean : Of course, the most troubling question is, why do these people assume we're gay.
Dean (to infected townsperson) : Heh. Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way. Sorry.
Dean : The secretary's name is Carly. She's 23, she kayaks, and they're real.
Sam : You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?
(Dean hands over a list.)
Dean : Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black or doglike. There's 19 calls in all. And, uh, I don't know what this is.
(He hands Sam a post-it note. Sam laughs.)
Sam : You mean Carly's MySpace address?
Dean : Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?
(Sam laughs.)
Dean: Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?
Sam: So let me get this straight. You want to drive all the way to Cicero just to hook up with some random chick?
Dean: She was a yoga teacher. That was the bendiest weekend of my life!
Sam: No way. That's my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this.
Dean: Probably the closest you ever got to being a boy.
Dean:: So if we wanna go check out these omens in Ohio, think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?
Bobby: Well, it won’t kill demons by then, but I can promise it’ll kill you.
Sam: I've got a theory. Sort of.
Dean: Hit me.
Sam: Well, thinking about fairy tales.
Dean: Oh, that’s... that's nice. You think about fairy tales often?
Sam: (staring at frog on the road) Yeah, you’re right, that's completely normal.
Dean: All right, maybe it is fairy tales. Totally messed-up fairy tales. I'll tell you one thing, there’s no way I'm kissing a damned frog.
Sam: (gesturing to pumpkin on porch) Hey, check that out.
Dean: Yeah? It's close to Halloween.
Sam: You remember Cinderella? The pumpkin that turns into a coach and the mice that become horses?
Dean: Dude! Could you be more gay? Don't answer that.
Dean: You find a way to stop Callie, all right.
Sam: What about you?
Dean: I'm gonna go stop the big bad wolf. Which is the weirdest thing I've ever said.
Dean: A Hand of Glory? I think I got one of those at the end of my Thai massage last week.
Bela: You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex.
Dean: (after thinking hard) Don't objectify me.
Dixon: Can you think of a worse hell?
Dean: Well, there's Hell.
Sam: Huh, when you sacrifice to Holnacar, guess what he gives you in return?
Dean: Lap dances, hopefully.
Dean: She gave them to you for free? Do you sell them for free?
Shopkeeper: No way. It's Christmas. People pay a buttload for them.
Dean: That's the spirit.
Sam: (getting off the phone with Bobby) Well, we're not dealing with the anti-Claus.
Dean: What'd Bobby say?
Sam: Uh, that we're morons.
Dean: You saved my life.
Ruby: Don't mention it.
Dean: What was that stuff? God, it was ass. It tasted like ass.
Ruby: It's witchcraft, short bus. (she leaves)
Dean:You're the short bus, short bus...
Dean: You wanna kill me. Get in the line bitch!
Dean(to Sam after he wakes up from a 'pleasant' dream)- "Who are you dreaming about? Angelina Jolie?"
Sam- "No..."
Dean- "Brad Pitt?"
Dean being mimicked by Sam: You think your being funny but your being really really childish...Sam winchester wears make-up...Sam Winchester cries his way through sex...Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by his bed and every morning when he wakes up he...OK ENOUGH!!
(Mystery Spot)
Dean: Lets hunt down those evil sons of bitches as soon as we can!
"It's like we got a contract on us. You think it's 'cause we're so awesome? I think it's 'cause it's we're so awesome." -Dean
Henriksen: I shot the Sheriff.
Dean (stares at the dead cop for a minute): But you didn't shoot the Deputy
(Jus In Bello)
Henricksen: I mean, after all, seeing you two in chains...
Dean: You kinky son of a b!tch, we don't swing that way.
Sam: You were possessed.
Henricksen: Possessed like... possessed?
Sam: That's what it feels like. Now you know
Dean: I owe you the biggest "I told you so" ever.

Dean: Honestly, I think the world's going to end bloody. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin'.

Henricksen: I better call in. Hell of a story I won't be telling.
Sam: So what are you going to tell them?
Henricksen: The least ridiculous lie I can come up with in the next five minutes.
Dean: Good luck with that.

Sam: So, what's the plan?
Dean: Open the doors, let them all in, and we fight.

Henricksen: You know what my job is?
Dean: You mean, besides locking up the good guys?
(Jus in Bello)
Dean: I hate witches! Spewing their bodly fluids every where, it is insanity! No down right unsanitary!
Sam: Yeah.
Meg: He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. Thats when I slit his throat!
Dean: For your sake, I hope your lying. 'cause if it's true i swear to *GOD!* I will march into hell myself, and i will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!
Dean: Where's our Dad, Meg?
Meg: You didn't ask very nicely
Dean: Where's our Dad BITCH!
Meg: Do you kiss you mother with that mouth? Oh i forgot...... You dont!