Life is almost back to normal after the Apocalypse. Dean's departed for the land of picket fences and backyard barbecues, and there's one last thing to settle before Bobby takes off on his next case.
"You're not gonna try to weasel on me, are you?" he says to Crowley. "You said you'd give it back."
Crowley is mildly offended that his word isn't trusted absolutely. "What makes you think I'd want to keep your soul? The Black Book value on it isn't that great. Pucker up."
"Pucker…? Aw, not again!"
"Do you want it back or don't you?"
"Okay, okay…." Crowley consummates the return. Bobby coughs. "I don't appreciate the loogie." he growls.
"That was your soul."
"Humph. Kinda like swallowing an oyster."
"Oysters are an aphrodesiac, you know."
"Maybe. But that wassn't an oyster."