Dean Winchester- What We Leave Behind

The warehouse smells of rust and sulfur as Dean steps back from the sigil, his boots crushing salt circles. When you materialize, he chokes—because you look exactly like his nightmares (soft where Hell was sharp). His hand twitches toward his gun (habit) but falters, fingers curling into fists. "I, uh… brought whiskey," he rasps, like that could undo eternity.

Dean: "Why's it always gotta be me that makes the call? Not that Cass lives in my ass, that dude's busy."

Victor: "I-I I shot the sheriff!" Dean: "But you didn't shoot the deputy!"[2]

Dean: "Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a girl say that..."

Dean: "You were wasted by Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel?"

Dean: Aw. Ain't he a little angel?

Dean: Sam, I got a bad feeling about this.

Dean: "Are you wearing glitter?"

Dean: "...Does it work?"

Christian: "Who you calling?" Dean: "Your wife. Let her know I'm not gonna make it over tonight."[7]

Dean: “How's Hell, Crowley?”

Dean: “Game of Thrones is complicated. Shower sex, that's complicated. Hell ain't complicated. Your problem ain't Hell. It's you."

Dean: “What is it, huh? Why you letting mommy dearest tie you into knots?”

Dean: “That's not the same thing. A wise man once told me, "Family don't end in blood." But it doesn't start there, either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there through the good, the bad-all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts. That's family. That sound like your mother?”

Dean: “You're not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy-for-the-devil crap. I know what you are.”

Dean: “You're the same thing, only bigger. The same brand of cockroach I've been squashing my whole life. An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground, supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you is the size of your ego.”

Dean: “That says something, doesn't it? Werther splits us up in there. Within an hour, we're both on the brink of death. Sorry about yesterday, going rogue on you like that.”

Dean: “The universe is trying to tell us something we both should already know. We're stronger together than apart.”

"What are you, the Dog Whisperer now?"[13]

"You hold him down while we knife him, and then we'll all go out for ice cream and strippers."[14]

"Well that's great, because without your power, you're basically just a baby in a trench coat."[1] "Life as an angel condom. That's real fun."

"What kind of douchebag names a character after himself?"

"You married fake Ruby?"

"Look at these male model sons of bitches. Nice 'Blue Steel', Sam."

"I'm not wearing any makeup. Oh crap. I'm a painted whore."

"The whistle makes me their god."

"So, what? We've got a bunch of killer dolls? Like Chucky?"

"What I'm good at... is slicing throats. I ain't a father. I'm a killer. And there's no changing that. I know that now."

"You're just as screwed up as I am, you're just... bigger."

"Look, all I know is that I was not groped by an angel."

"Gramps throw a barbecue, leave us off the e-vite list?"

"Oh god, please let that be a rifle."

"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here."

"What, did you lose the ability to send a text message?"

"We can either take on the Devil together, or you lame-ass bitches can eat me. Literally."

"What are you, the Hamburglar?"

"Why does Heaven care if Harry meets Sally?"

"Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name, and Mr. Comatose over there. It's awesome."

"A bloody, violent monster... and you wanna be Facebook friends with him? Nice, Sammy."

"Calm down? I am wearing sunglasses at night. You know who does that? No-talent douche bags. I hate this game. I hate that we're in a procedural cop show. And you want to know why? Because I hate procedural cop shows. There's like 300 of them on television, they're all the freaking same."

We track evil and kill it, the family business, is that it? Look at the tape, Sam. Evil tracks us. It nukes everything in our vicinity, our family, our friends, it's time we put a proper name to what we really are and we deal with it.

I'm beyond saving. I know how my story's gonna end. It's at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun.

Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family.

Hey. You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags.

There ain't no me if there ain't no you.

That's crap. You always have a choice. You can either roll over and die or you can keep fighting, no matter what.