| Sam: So much for a low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Feds' database. Dean: Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something. Sam: Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder. We've got to be more careful now. Dean: Well, what have they got on you? Sam: I'm sure they just...haven't posted it yet. Dean: Wait - no accessory, nothing? Sam: Shut up. Dean: (laughs) You're jealous. Sam: No, I'm not! Dean: Uh-huh. All right, what have you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you? |
| Sam: Whatever they are, they're big, nasty... Dean: Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap out of your leg. Look at that one, huh? (chuckles]) What? They could! |
| Sam: So? Dean: The secretary's name is Carly. She's 23, she kayaks, and they're real. Sam: You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you? Dean: Every complaint called in this week about everything big, black or dog-like. There's 19 calls in all. And I don't know what this thing is. Sam: You mean Carly's MySpace address? Dean: Yeah, MySpace. What the hell is that? (Sam laughs]) Seriously, is that, like, some sort of porn site? |
| Dean: This house probably isn't up next on MTV Cribs, is it? Sam: Yeah, so whatever kind of deal he made... Dean: ... it wasn't for cash. Aw, who knows? Maybe his place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis. |
| Dean: So you know who I am. Demon: I get the newsletter. |
| Dean: Shut your mouth, *****. |
| Demon: You're lucky I have a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces. |
| (demon tries to convince Dean to sell his soul) Dean: You think you could... throw in a set of steak knives? |
| (demon kisses Dean) Dean: What the hell was that for? Demon: Sealing the deal. Dean: You know, I usually like to be warned before I'm violated with demon tongue. |
| Dean: Why did he do it? Sam: He did it for you. Dean: Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? |
| Sam: Hey Dean, when you were trapping that demon, you weren't... I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never actually considered making that deal, right? Dean: (doesn't answer) |
| Dean: We know a little about a lot of things; just enough to make us dangerous. |
| Sam: We're here to help. Husband: How do I know that? Dean: Well, you don't know that do you? But you're running low on options there buddy boy. |
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