Sam Winchester Quotes

Dean, you've been to Hell, I started the Apocalypse, and we're supposed to be possessed by an archangel and the devil. Now you're being skeptical?

Please accept this sandwich as a gesture of solidarity.

We know a little about a lot of things; just enough to make us dangerous.

Hell had been his Vietnam. It had stamped its mark on him for all eternity, and no amount of denial or self-imposed ignorance was going to change it. Ever.

I've heard some strange noises every once in a while late at night and always wondered if the house is haunted. I bet it is. I bet that freaky little fucker wants to watch us have sex. Fine with me, buddy, enjoy the show. Just don't touch my ass at all during the event or I will call the Winchester brothers from Supernatural. Dean and Sam will fuck you up! I had a strange hand touch my ass one time in college during a threesome, and that's just something you don't get over. Random ass touching scares me more than spiders.

I lost my shoe~ Sam Winchester

Come on, man. I know Sam, okay? Better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than I do. I mean, the guy feels guilty searching the internet for porn.

Are we gonna kill this teddy bear?

No, he focused on the one thing that he knew would keep him grounded the way the demon said he'd need to be. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can - don't look back. Now, Dean, go!" Sam's not dying. Not on my watch. You protect your family no matter what. I'm coming for you, Sammy. Just hold tight. And don't look back. He opened his eyes. Behind him, he could hear Kat's voice muttering an incantation in a language he didn't recognize. It wasn't Latin, certainly. Since it was demon magic, it was probably some language that was even more dead than Latin. The chanting stopped. Dean screamed.

I always meant to watch that but I never got around to it. I’ll have to check it out. You ever watch Supernatural? I’ve been catching up on that. Up to season four now. It’s pretty good for a show about white boy tears.” Common ground. We had it in Sam and Dean Winchester.

I sighed. Tink was sitting on the couch beside me and he’d commandeered my laptop at some point. The Walking Dead was on the television—well, it was on the Amazon Fire Stick TV thingy that the little bastard had ordered a few days ago unbeknownst to me. On my laptop, he was watching old episodes of Supernatural. I think he was on season three judging by the current length of Sam Winchester’s hair. At least it wasn’t Harry Potter andTwilight this time, because I was getting really tired of hearing him quote Edward Cullen and Ron Weasley at the same time.

Dean, having worked with Dad longer, was used to taking orders. More than that, he seemed to thrive on it, as if Dad had crushed the independent spirit he’d been born with.

Corrigan shouted, “I got you now, you bastard!”, as his index finger began to pull back the trigger, but then stopped when a loud crack sounded behind him and a .44 pounded into the middle of his back at the same moment, knocking him forward and jerking his finger against the trigger, sending the shot high into the air. He never knew where the shot came from and would never have a chance to ask as he slumped back over his horse’s neck, then slid off to the side and tumbled to the ground. Conn had seen the distant muzzle flare and knew whose Winchester had created it, in awe of Sam’s ability yet again. He slowly rose to his feet, holstered his Colt, then picked up his damaged Winchester and began to limp to the last shooter, the one who had almost killed him. He was reasonably sure it was Steve Corrigan after hearing the shouted threat but wanted to be sure. But before he reached the dead shooter, Sam trotted up close on the black mare and asked anxiously, “Are you all right, Conn?” “Only because you arrived when you did, Sam. He had me in his sights. I was a dead man.” Sam dismounted in her usual