- Bobby Singer: [On the phone with a hunter] Doesn't sound like our kind of thing. Better drop a dime to the FBI.
- [Hangs up. His "FBI" phone rings. Bobby answers]
- Bobby Singer: Willis, FBI.
- [pause]
- Bobby Singer: No, Garth, not me the FBI, the *real* FBI! How are you still alive?
- [Rufus buried an okami in Bobby's junkyard]
- Bobby Singer: [on the phone] Your Okami ain't dead.
- Rufus Turner: Of course it is.
- Bobby Singer: Did you use a bamboo dagger?
- Rufus Turner: Of course!
- Bobby Singer: Blessed by a Shinto priest?
- Rufus Turner: I'm not an imbecile, Bobby.
- Bobby Singer: Did you stab it seven times?
- Rufus Turner: [pause] Five times.
- Bobby Singer: It's seven!
- Rufus Turner: No, I'm pretty sure it's five.
- Bobby Singer: Clearly it's seven times; the damn hole is empty.
- Crowley: Feels good to get it off my chest. We should make this a thing.
- Bobby Singer: Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?
- Crowley: A little.
- Bobby Singer: I appreciate you boys lending a hand.
- Dean Winchester: Hey, any time we get to punk Crowley works for us.
- Sam Winchester: Yeah.
- Bobby Singer: Still... knowing how much you love flying, the friendly skies... I guess a nine-hour plane trip was no picnic. You drink your way through it?
- Dean Winchester: I was fine.
- Sam Winchester: No. He white-knuckled his way through four puke bags.
- Dean Winchester: Well, at least I was sober. Some nutjob decided to try something, I was ready. I had a fork.
- Agent Adams: Have you seen this man, Rufus Turner AKA Luther Vandross AKA Ruben Studdard.
- Bobby Singer: No. Never seen that dick.
- Agent Adams: How do you know he's a dick?
- Bobby Singer: Lucky guess
- Bobby Singer: Crowley's name.
- Crossroads Demon: Okay. Okay. MacLeod. Fergus MacLeod. Swear. We call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back.
- Bobby Singer: MacLeod's Scottish, Einstein.
- Bobby Singer: Crowley let slip that he likes Craig. It's, um-...
- Rufus Turner: It's Scotch. Only made and sold in a tiny area on the north tip of Caithness County. It's peaty and sharp with a long finish of citrus and tobacco notes.
- [Bobby stares at him]
- Rufus Turner: What? What am I, a heathen? I know what Craig is.
- Crowley: You didn't read your contract?
- Bobby Singer: The hell you talking about, contract?
- [Writing appears on his skin]
- Crowley: Paragraph 18, subsection B, which is on your naughty bits.
- Crowley: I thought when I got the corner office, it was all going to be rainbows and two-headed puppies. But if I'm being honest, it's been hell.
- Bobby Singer: I thought that was the point.
- Bobby Singer: What's your poison, Your Highness?
- Crowley: Craig, aged 30 years at least. Been drinking it since grade school.
- Bobby Singer: Well, I got old rotgut, aged six days.
- Crowley: Swill like that is gonna burn a hole in your soul. Oh, sorry. My soul.