Supernatural

— Oh, thank God!
— Call me Dean.

— When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a.45.
— Well, what was he supposed to do?
— I was nine years old. He was supposed to say, "Don't be afraid of the dark."

"Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive." I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders.

I'm sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself. My head hurts.

Demons I get. People are crazy.

— You think you're funny?
— I think I'm adorable.

Come on man. I know Sam, ok? Better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than i do. I mean the guy feels guilty searching the internet for porn.

— Aah! You bitch!
— Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? Fudge.
— I'll try and remember that.

You’re good. A monster pain in the ass…but you’re good.

— Where's our father, Meg?
— You didn't ask very nice.
— Where's our father, bitch?

— What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.
— Whose childhood are you talking about?

What, are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch!

— It appeared before me and I just... this feeling washed over me. Like peace. Like grace.
— Okay, ecstasy boy. Maybe we’ll get you some glow sticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat.

— No way. That's my Division Championship soccer trophy! I can't believe he kept this.
— Yeah, it's probably the closest you ever came to being a boy.

— We still got to see the new "raiders" movie.
— Saw it.
— Without me?
— You were in hell.
— That's no excuse!

— Dean, get me a bucket.
— Find something?
— No, I think I'm going to puke.