In Chester, Pennsylvania, a man is working in his garage. He props the garage door open with a board, sets down his beer bottle, and starts hammering out his lawnmower blade. When he reaches for the beer, he discovers that it's not where he thought he put it. As he picks it up, he knocks over a jar of nails. As he picks up a broom, he knocks over a skateboard, which rolls behind him. He steps back, trips on it, and almost impales his eyes on a pair of clippers. As He pulls himself away, he knocks over a bucket of golf balls, trips, and falls beneath the garage door. A stray golf ball hits a mousetrap and hits the board. The garage door comes down, all but decapitating the man...Read the full recap
Bobby Singer: You two just going to stand there like the ugly girl at the prom, or you gonna pitch in? This so-called Eve mother, whatever, ain't going to gank herself.
Dean: I mean, accidents just don't happen accidentally. (Sam stares) You know what I mean.
Dean: Uh, uh, can you tell me anything noteworthy about the Russos?
Shawn Russo: Noteworthy? No. I mean, not exactly. Average. You know, big, from Italy.
Dean: I see. Uh, was anyone ever killed or maimed in a war? Or, you know, some other violent thing?
Shawn Russo: What do you mean?
Dean: Like something so dark it would sully future generations.
Shawn Russo: Uh, no.
Dean: Good. Good stuff. Anyone own a slave?
Shawn Russo: What?
Dean: Routine question. Any ties to the Nazi Party?
Shawn Russo: Excuse me?
Dean: Did Grandma ever piss off a gypsy?
Shawn Russo: Okay. You know what? I don't know what kind of study you're doing, but it's over. Right now.
Balthazar: Why what?
Dean: Why did you unsink the ship?
Balthazar: Because I hated the movie.
Dean: What movie?
Sam: Wait. So you saved a cruise liner because...?
Balthazar: Because that god-awful Celine Dion song made me want to smite myself.
Sam: Who's Celine Dion?
Balthazar: Oh, she's a destitute lounge singer somewhere in Quebec, and let's keep it that way, please.
Sam: But now those people and their kids and their kids' kids... they must have interacted with so many other people, changed so much crap... you totally butterfly-effected history.
Dean: Dude, dude, rule one. No Kutcher references.
Balthazar: Anyway, let's agree, I did a good thing. One less Billy Zane movie and I saved two of your closest friends.
Balthazar: Sorry, you have me confused with the other angel. You know, the one in the dirty trench coat who's in love with you. I don't care.
Bobby Singer: Because I've got an idea who we're up against.
Bobby Singer: Fate.
Dean: You mean...?
Bobby Singer: I mean Fate like the Fates. Or one of them at least.
Sam: You mean like, Greek mythology, the sisters?
Bobby Singer: Bingo.
Dean: What'd she look like?
Sam: Kinda like a librarian.
Dean: Your kind of librarian, or my kind of librarian?
Sam: Well, she was wearing clothes, if that's what you mean.
Ellen Harvelle: Well, if it was meant to be, then I guess whatever happens, happens.
Bobby Singer: But that's just my point. Nothing's meant to be. Whether we're together is at the whim of some dick angel...
Ellen Harvelle: Oh, Bobby, relax.
Bobby Singer: I can't. We need you. Especially me.
Ellen Harvelle: I know.
Dean: Who do we have to kill to be killed around here?
Balthazar: Uh, sweetie, before we go, I could remove that stick from…
Atropos: Don't try me.
Balthazar: We'll leave it inserted, then.
Dean: Well, how come he and I remember it?
Castiel: Because I wanted you to remember it.
Castiel: I wanted you to know who Fate really is. She's cruel and capricious.
Dean: I'd go so far as "bitch."
Castiel: Well, yeah. You're the ones who taught me that you can make your own destiny. You don't have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom. And I still believe that's something worth fighting for. I just wanted you to understand that.
Dean: So... wait, did--did Balthazar really... unravel a sweater over a chick flick?
Castiel: Yes. Absolutely, that's what he did.
Dean: Wow, well, might be time to take away his cable privileges. Besides, Titanic didn't suck that bad. (Sam stares) Winslet's rack.