Dean: Who gave you that name?
Digger: I did.
Dean: You gave yourself your own nickname? You can't do that.
Digger: Who died and made you queen?
Dean: Do you know how many times we've called? Where've you been?
Bobby Singer: Playing murderball.
Dean: What is that smell? Is that soap? Did you clean?
Bobby Singer: What are you, my mother? Bite me.
Clay Thompson: I can't believe you were gonna kill me.
Dean: You're a zombie.
Clay Thompson: I'm a taxpayer.
Dean: Another Horseman. Awesome. Must be Thursday.
Dean: You got any more ammo? I'm low.
Bobby Singer: Yeah, we got plenty. Just run back past the zombies. It's in the van where we left it.
Dean: A simple no would have been fine.
Bobby Singer: Kind of a tight fit, don't you think?
Dean: It's all right, they're idiots. They can't pick a lock.
(the zombies start picking the lock)
Bobby Singer: Don't you ever get tired of being wrong?
Dean: I'm making this stuff up as I go. Sue me.