Sam: You want Anna? Why?
Uriel: Out of the way.
Dean: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, I know she's wiretapping your angel chats or whatever, but it's no reason to gank her.
Uriel: Don't worry. I'll kill her gentle.
Dean: You're some heartless sons of bitches, you know that?
|
Uriel: Give us the girl.
Dean: Sorry. Get yourself another one. Try Jdate.
|
Dean: Iron walls drenched in salt. Demons can't even touch the joint.
Ruby: Which I find racist, by the way.
Dean: Write your Congressman.
|
Sam: Where’s Bobby?
Dean: Uh, the Dominican. He said we break anything, we buy it.
Sam: Is he working a job?
Dean: God, I hope so. Otherwise he’s at Hedonism in a banana hammock and a trucker cap.
Sam: Now that’s seared in my brain.
|
Sam: She was convinced that he wasn’t her real daddy.
Dean: Who was? The plumber, hmm? A little snaking the pipes?
Sam: Dude, you’re confusing reality with porn again.
|
Pamela: (blind) Sam, is that you?
Sam: I’m right here.
Pamela: Oh. Know how I can tell? That perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing.
|
Anna: My mother, Amy, couldn’t get pregnant. Always called me her little miracle. She had no idea how right she was.
Dean: So, you just forgot that you were God’s little Power Ranger?
|
Dean: So what, you're just gonna take some divine bong hit, and Shazam, you're Roma Downey?
Anna Milton: Something like that.
|
Dean: That’s another question. Why would you fall? Why would you want to be one of us?
Anna Milton: You don’t mean that.
Dean: I don’t? A bunch of miserable bastards… I mean, eating, crapping, confused afraid.
Anna Milton: I don’t know, there’s loyalty, forgiveness… love.
Dean: Pain.
Anna Milton: Chocolate cake.
Dean: Guilt.
Anna Milton: Sex.
Dean: Yeah, you got me there.
|
(Dean chuckles)
Ruby: What?
Dean: Nothing. It’s just… an angel and a demon, riding in the back seat. It’s like the setup for a bad joke. Or a Penthouse Forum letter.
Sam: Dude… reality… porn.
Dean: You call this reality?
|
Ruby: We can't fight Heaven and Hell. One side maybe, but not both. Not at once.
Anna Milton: Uhhh... guys? The angels are talking again.
Sam: What are they saying?
Anna Milton: It's weird. Like a recording. A loop. It says, "Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or..."
Dean: Or what?
Anna Milton: "...or we hurl him back to damnation."
|
(Anna kisses him)
Dean: What was that for?
Anna: You know… our last night on Earth… all that.
Dean: You’re stealing my best line.
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Ruby: I just came to talk.
Alastair: About what? About how a demon is protecting an angel? We really must revoke your membership.
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Uriel: Look at that. It’s so cute when monkeys wear clothes.
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Uriel: Wait, there's more. You cut yourself a slice of angel food cake. You did.
Dean: What would you care? You're junkless down there right? Like a Ken doll.
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Alastair: You know, I haven’t been up here since Poland ’43. Truth is, I loathe it. It’s chilly. No stink of blood or sizzle of flesh or the wet flap of flayed skin.
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Uriel: How dare you come in this room.. you pussing sore?
Alastair: Name-calling. That hurt my feelings… you sanctimonious, fanatical prick.
|
UK (
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