Dean: We're going off of Bela's intel? When that perra breaths, the air comes out crooked.
Dean: We've got the knife.
Bobby: And tu intend to use it without me. Do I look like a ditchable prom fecha to you?
Dean: What do tu think?


Sam: I think tu totally should have been jamming "Eye of the Tiger" right there.
Dean: Oh, bite me. I totally rehearsed that speech, too.
Bobby: Well, tu got just over five hours to go. You're piercing the veil, Dean, glimpsing the "B" side.


Dean: Little less New Agey, please.
Bobby: You're almost hell's bitch, so tu can see hell's other bitches.
Dean: Thank you.
Dean: (to Sam): If this is my last día on earth, I don't want it to be socially awkward.
Dean: Why even risk it?


Sam: Because you're my brother. And because tu did the same thing for me.
Dean: I know, and look how that turned out. All I'm saying, Sammy, all I'm saying, is that you're my weak spot. tu are, and I'm yours.
Sam: tu don't mean that. We're family.
Dean: I know. And those evil sons of bitches know it too. And what we'll do for each other, how far we'll go. They're using it against us.
Sam: So, what, we just stop looking out for each other?
Dean: No. We stop being martyrs, man. We stop spreading it for these demons.


Dean Winchester: If we go down, then we go down swingin'.


Dean Winchester: I'm glad my doomed soul's good for something.