Glassware

Roy: You're rangers?
Dean Winchester: That's right.
Haley Collins: And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?
Dean Winchester: Oh sweetheart, I don't do shorts.


Dean Winchester: Man, I hate camping.
Sam Winchester: Me too.


Dean Winchester: You okay?
Sam Winchester: Yeah, I'm fine.
Dean Winchester: Another nightmare?
Sam clears his throat but doesnt answer
Dean Winchester: You wanna drive for a while?
Sam Winchester: Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that.


Sam Winchester: How do you do it? How does Dad do it?
Dean Winchester: Well for one, them. I mean, our family's so screwed to hell, maybe...

Dean Winchester: Fake 911 phone call, Sammy, I dunno, that's pretty illegal.


Dean Winchester: You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're gonna have to face up to who you really are.
Sam Winchester: And who's that?
Dean Winchester: One of us.
Sam Winchester: No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.
Dean Winchester: Well, you have a responsibility.
Sam Winchester: To dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, mom's gone. And she isn't coming...

Dean falls on topo, início of Sam as they sneak through a half open window
Dean Winchester: Oh, sorry!
Sam Winchester: OK, be quiet.
Dean Winchester: Me be quiet? You be quiet!


Dean Winchester: I hope your maçã, apple pie is freakin' worth it!


Dean Winchester: Ugh, the thought of him driving my car.
Sam Winchester: Oh, come on.
Dean Winchester: It's killing me!
Sam Winchester: Let it go.


Sam Winchester: Dean, there's ten times as much lore about anjos as there is about anything else we've ever hunted.
Dean Winchester: You know what, there's a ton of lore on unicórnios too. In fact, I hear that they ride on silver moonbeams,...