Οι καλύτερες ατάκες του 12×13 με τίτλο Family Feud
Mr. Ketch: You’re an excellent liar, Mary.
Waitress: Before kids, your life is yours. Once they show up, life as you know it is over.
Kelly: Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s the way this is gonna go.
Waitress: Whenever it pops out, you’re totally gonna love the little devil.
Dean: I don’t know, I just — I feel like something’s going on with her, and she ain’t talkin’ about it.
Sam: Mom’s hunting again. That’s a grind. You know that. She’s just needs a little time, Dean. That’s all.
Crowley: Oh, you’ll resist, at first. But the humiliation will eat at you. Until, finally, you’re worn down by your utter helplessness. And you call me… Master. You brag of your superior power. Well, genius trumps brute force. I’ve had a dozen of my most loyal studying the cage where you were held at the molecular level. They managed to replicate the material. They made those chains. Getting you here… well, that was a different matter.
Lucifer: I can still feel it, its heart, its power. It sort of makes me proud, a chip off the old ball of heavenly light if you know what I mean.
Dean: Whoa. There’s a lot of action in here. Okay, well, I’m switching my vote from witch to ghost.
Sam: I don’t know. EMF isn’t that surprising in a museum. They’re always filled with ADHD spirits and their tethers, you know.
Dean: Okay, but if our killer is a chain rattler, how we gonna figure out which one it is?
Dean: Need a favor.
Crowley: You… need… You? Turns out that behind that whole moron facade, you and your brother are, in fact, morons! You let Lucifer’s love child live.
Crowley: It turns out that behind that whole moron façade, you and your brother are, in fact, morons.
Lucifer: Oh my Dad. I love that, you and I, both single fathers. I could use a little dad advice right about now. When do you let them date?
Gavin: How sick is he?
Sam: About that… we might’ve exaggerated a little bit.
Dean: Lied. We lied.
Gavin: Grandmother? She can’t be alive.
Dean: Well, technically dude, neither can you.
Mr. Ketch: This work. It’s demanding and must come first. The Men of Letters is my family.
Mary: I’m sorry. Nothing comes before my family, not with me.
Mr. Ketch: Really? Or is that just what you want to believe? You’re different when you talk to them. Softer. Weaker. Not an insult, just an observation. But when you hunt, Mary… you’re one of the best I’ve ever seen.Now you might play at being the good mummy, but when you’re in the thick of it, nothing but a blade in your hand and blood in the air, that’s the real you, the best you. And I think you know it. And I think that scares the hell out of you.
Rowena: He’s not like us. He believes in things. Let him do what he believes is right.
Mary: There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m just gonna to say it. I have sort of… been working with the British Men of Letters.
Sam: M- You — you, uh… you what?
Sam: Mom… we, um… we have a-a history with them.
Mary: I know, Sam. And it was a hard decision. But they’re doing good work. I have helped them save people, a lot of people. We can learn from them. Do not give me the face.
Sam: Mom, we have our own toolkit, and it works just fine. A-and for obvious reasons, like broken ribs and burnt feet… We don’t trust the Brits.
Dean: So where does that leave us?
Mary: Same as always. Family. Just hear me out. Please.
Crowley: So that was all drivel you were spewing about Gavin doing the right thing?
Rowena: It was the right thing. Maybe for Gavin, certainly for me. It allowed me to watch you suffer the loss of a child.
Rowena: I’m your mother, dear. Who better to crush your shriveled heart.