Bobby: – Come on. You’re bickering like an old married couple.
Dean: – No, see, marries couples can get divorced. Me and he? We’re like, uh, siamese twins.
Sam: – It’s “conjoined” twins.
Dean: – See what I mean?
Dean: - House rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music; shotgun shuts his cake hole.
Sam: - Dean. Back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn’t it? Like a cockroach.
Dean: - Look at me, Sam. It’s not even that bad. It’s not even that bad, alright? Sammy? Listen to me. We’re going to patch you up, ok? You’ll be as good as new. I’m gonna take care of you, ok? I’m going to care of you. I’ve got you, because that’s my job, right? Watching after my pain in the as little brother. Sam! No, no, no, no, no.Come on… Sam!