Sam: All right, Dean. This is the place.
Dean: You know, I've gotta say Dad and me did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork. What was that play that you did? What was it, uh... Our Town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute.
Dean: I'm just saying these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?
Dean: Ours! You think credit card fraud's easy?
Landlady: You guys said you're with the alarm company?
Dean: That's right.
Landlady: Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man.
Dean: Well, that's why we're here.
Sam: You say you talked to the cops?
Dean: Uhhh, yeah. Spoke to Amy, the uh, charming, perky officer of the law.
Sam: Yeah? What'd you find out?
Dean: Well, she's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean, wooo... ohh, she's got this little tattoo...
Dean: What? Yeah. Uhhh, nothing we don't already know.
Dean: Talked to the bartender.
Sam: You get anything? Besides her number?
Dean: Dude. I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that... all right. (holds up number)
Sam: You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?
Dean: So to recap, the only successful intel we’ve scored so far is the bartender’s number.
(Dean coughs for attention)
Meg Masters: Dude, cover your mouth.
Sam: Yeah, um, I'm sorry, Meg. This is um, this is my brother, Dean.
Meg Masters: This is Dean?
Dean: So, you've heard of me?
Meg Masters: Oh, yeah. I've heard of you. Nice. The way you treat your brother like luggage.
Meg Masters: Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over God's green earth.
Sam: Meg, it's all right.
Dean: (whistles) Okayyy, awkward! Heh heh heh, I'm gonna get a drink, then.
Sam: I think there’s something strange going on here.
Dean: Yeah, tell me about it. She wasn’t even that into me!
Sam: I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on.
Dean: But I bet you'd like to. Maybe she's not a suspect, maybe... maybe you've got a thing for her, huh? Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?
Dean: What are you gonna do?
Sam: I’m gonna watch Meg.
Dean: Yeah, yeah.
Sam: I just wanna see what’s what. Better safe than sorry.
Dean: All right, you little pervert.
Dean: Let me guess, you're looking outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?
Sam: No... Yes.
Dean: You got a funny way of showing your affection.
Dean: (to Sam) Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and, uhh, invite her to a poetry reading or whatever it is you do, huh?
Sam: How'd you figure that out?
Dean: Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasing around here.
Sam: Oh yeah? Name the last book you read.
Dean: Ah, I called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told me, all right?
Dean: Now why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?
Sam: Bite me.
Dean: Bite her. Don't leave teeth marks, though, just enough to where... (Sam hangs up) Sam?
Dean: So Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl.
Meg Masters: Guys, hiding's a little bit childish, don't you think?
Dean: Well, that didn't work out like I planned.
Dean: Hey, Sam, don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend... is a bitch.
Sam: You killed those two people for nothing.
Meg Masters: Baby, I'd kill a lot more for a lot less.
Sam: Go to Hell.
Meg Masters: Baby, I’m already there.
Meg Masters: I saw you. Watching me, changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it?
Dean: Get a room, you two.
Dean: Hey, Sam…?
Dean: Next time you want to get laid… find a girl that’s not so buckets of crazy, huh?
John Winchester: Listen, try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt.
Sam: Dad, you don't have to worry about us.
John Winchester: Of course I do. I'm your father.