Dean: You know who does that? CRAZY PEOPLE! We... Are insane!
Dean: A-And then there's the bad diner food, a-and a-and the skivvy motel rooms, and then the truck stop waitress with the bizarre rash. I mean, who wants this life, Sam? Huh? Seriously.
Dean: Do you actually like being stuck with me in a car for eight hours a day, every single day? I don't think so!
Dean: I mean, I drive too fast and I listen to the same five albums over and over and over again a-a-and I sing along. I'm annoying, I know that.
Dean: And you, you're gassy. You eat half a burrito and get toxic. I mean, you know what? *tosses keys to our Baby*
Dean: I done with it. Stay away from me, Sam. I'm done with the monsters, and the hellhounds, and the ghost sickness, and the damn apocalypse
Dean: I'm out, I'm done, I quit *quits at life*
