John: Take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don't look back!

Sam: You know how I feel about Halloween.

Sam: Cuz we're not exactly the Bradys.
Sam's friend: And I'm not exactly the Huxstables.

Sam: What would I do without you?
Jessica: Crash and burn.

Sam: You scared the crap outta me.
Dean: Well, that's because you're outta practice. *Sam flips him over* I guess not. Get off me.
Sam: Dean, what the hell are you doing here?
Dean: Well, I was looking for a beer.

Dean: I amor the smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely outta my brother's league.
Jessica: Just let me go put something on.
Dean: Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously.

Dean: Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been início in a few days.
Sam: Jess, excuse us.

Sam: When I told Dad I was afraid of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.
Dean: Well, what was he supposed to do?
Sam: I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, “Don’t be afraid of the dark.”
Dean: “Don ‘t be afraid of the dark”? what, are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid! You know what’s out there.

Dean: Just go live some normal, torta de maçã life?

Dean: I can’t do this alone.
Sam: Yes, you can.
Dean: Yeah, well, I don’t want to.
Sam: *bitchface* What was he hunting?

Dean: I’m twenty-six, dude.

Dean: Not bad, Sammy. It’s kinda like riding a bike, isn’t it?

Sam: He’s probably got Jim, Jack, and Jose along with him.

Dean: Besides, all we do is apply. It’s not our fault if they send us a card.

Sam: I swear, man, you have got to update your cassette tape collection.
Dean: What’s wrong with it?
Sam: Well, for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two… Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica-? It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock.
Dean: House rules, Sammy: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole.
Sam: No, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It’s Sam.
Dean: Sorry, can’t hear you. Music’s too loud.

Sheriff: You two are a little young for marshals, aren’t you?
Dean: Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you.

Dean: Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect from you guys.

Sam: Ow! What was that for?
Dean: Why’d you step on my foot?
Sam: Why’d you talk to police like that?

Dean: Agent Mulder, Agent Scully.

Dean: Dude, you’re such a control freak!

Sam: Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom’s gone. She isn’t coming back.
Dean: *slams Sam against the side of the bridge* Don’t talk about her like that.

Dean: I’m super.

Dean: That Constance chick, what a bitch!

Sam: So where does the trail lead from here, genius?

Sam: You smell like a toilet.

Dean: No chick flick moments.
Sam: *scoffs* All right… jerk.
Dean: Bitch.

Dean: My boobs. *grins*

Dean: Are we talking “misdemeanor” kind of trouble, or “squeal-like-a-pig” trouble?

Dean: That makes sense. Cuz when the first one disappeared in ’82, I was three.

Dean: How many times do I gotta tell you? It’s my high school locker combo.


Dean: Fake 911 phone call. I don’t know, Sammy, that’s pretty illegal.
Sam: *laughing* You’re welcome.

Sam: I’m taking you home.

Sam: What were you thinking, shooting Casper in the face, you freak?
Dean: Hey, saved your ass. And I’ll tell you another thing: if you screwed up my car, I’ll kill you.

Sam: We’ve got work to do.