Chuck Shurley: On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville--a blue two-door Caprice. There was a big ceremony, speeches, the lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have. because that 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car--no, the most important object--in pretty much the whole universe.

Dean: I'm on board.
Sam: You're gonna let me say yes?
Dean: No, that's the thing. It's not on me to let you do anything. You're a grown--well, overgrown--man.

Dean: If this is what you want, I'll back your plan.
Sam: That's the last thing I thought you'd ever say.
Dean: Might be.

Sam: Take care of these guys, okay?
Castiel: That's not possible.
Sam: Then humor me.
Castiel: Oh. i was supposed to lie. Uh... sure. They'll be fine, I...
Sam: Just--just stop... talking.

Chuck Shurley: The Impala, of course, has all the things other cars have... and a few things they don't. But none of that stuff's important. This is the stuff that's important. The Army man that Sam crammed in the ashtray--it's still stuck there. The Legos that Dean shoved into the vents. to this day, heat comes on, and you can hear 'em rattle. These are the things that make the car theirs. Really theirs. Even when Dean rebuilt it from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed. 'Cause it's the blemishes that made her beautiful.

Lucifer: Sorry if it's a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It's actually quite the opposite.
Dean: Well, I'll alert the media.

Castiel: It's starting.
Dean: Yeah, you think, genius?
Castiel: You don't have to be mean.
Dean: So, what do we do now?
Castiel: I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol... just wait for the inevitable blast wave.
Dean: Yes, well, thank you, Blutarsky.

Chuck Shurley: In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day--sometimes a week, if they were lucky. They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove a thousand miles for an Ozzy show. Two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars... for hours... without saying a word. It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls but they were never, in fact, homeless.

Dean: Hey. We need to talk.
Lucifer: Dean, even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid.

Dean: Cass, you're alive?
Castiel: I'm better than that.
Dean: Cass, are you God?
Castiel: That's a nice compliment. But no.

Chuck Shurley: Endings are hard. Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can. The fans are always gonna bitch. There's always gonna be holes. And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass.

Chuck Shurley: So what's it all add up to? It's hard to say. But me, I'd say this was a test... for Sam and Dean. And I think they did all right. Up against, Good, Evil, angels, devils, Destiny, and God himself, they made their own choice. They chose family. And, well... isn't that kinda the whole point? No doubt--endings are hard. But then again... nothing ever really ends, does it?