Older Dean Winchester: So, you were gonna just shoot some old guy? Is that it?
Sam Winchester: I didn't know *what* you were. I mean, have you seen you? You look like...
Older Dean Winchester: The old chick in "Titanic." I know. Shut up.
Sam Winchester: I was gonna say "Emperor Palpatine."
[Bobby punches the door open with his wheelchair]
Bobby Singer: I see you met John McCain there.
Sam Winchester: Yeah. Either of you wanna tell me what happened?
Older Dean Winchester: Bobby's an idiot. That's what happened.
Bobby Singer: Hey, nobody asked you to play.
Older Dean Winchester: Right. I should have just let you die.
Bobby Singer: And for damn sure, nobody asked you to *lose*.
Sam Winchester: [grinning] It's like "Grumpy Old Men."
Older Dean Winchester: [Older Dean is digging up a grave] Owww! My elbows! I'm all creaky.
Bobby Singer: Hurry up, you cry baby!
Older Dean Winchester: Pound it up your ass, Ironside.
Sam Winchester: [while Older Dean is trying to crack open a safe] It's like Mission Pathetic, watch out.
Older Dean Winchester: What the hell were you thinking? He's a witch! He's been playing poker since guys wore tights!
Bobby Singer: You just don't get it.
Older Dean Winchester: Yeah, I get it, Bobby. You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back and get out of that damn chair. Pretty tempting. I can imagine...
Bobby Singer: No, you can't!
Older Dean Winchester: You got me. I've never been paralyzed. But I'll tell you something... I've been to Hell, and there's an archangel there wanting me to drop the soap.
Older Dean Winchester: Look at me! My junk's rustier than yours! You hear me bellyaching?
Sam Winchester: Uh, actually, yeah.
Older Dean Winchester: [to Sam] Dude, I think that he-witch gave you the clap.
Older Dean Winchester: [Hunched over in pain] Ow! My back!
Bobby Singer: Can you straighten up?
Older Dean Winchester: Yeah, but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt!
Bobby Singer: Butt cheek tingling?
Older Dean Winchester: [Looking uncomfortable] Well, that's kinda personal.
Older Dean Winchester: You know Bobby, killing you is officially on my bucket list.
Maid: Ready for housekeeping, Sir?
Older Dean Winchester: [smiling at maid] Born ready!
Maid: [laughing] You're just like my grandfather! He hits on anything that moves, too! You're adorable!
Older Dean Winchester: And dangerous!
Bobby Singer: Well, I guess we can get the van loaded.
[Dean holds up a finger, clears his throat]
Dean Winchester: I shouldn't have called you an idiot.
Bobby Singer: [sarcastic] Which time?
Dean Winchester: I'm sorry. I mean actually I, I get it. Gettin' old ain't a bachelor party. And dealin' with the crap you gotta deal with...
Bobby Singer: Don't you go on pity patrol.
Dean Winchester: I'm not. I'm not, I just, I'm sayin' y'know, if I was in your shoes...
Bobby Singer: You'd *never* stop complaining.
Dean Winchester: Fair enough.
Dean Winchester: You're not useless, Bobby.
Bobby Singer: Okay. Good talk.
[makes to roll out the door]
Dean Winchester: No, wait a minute, listen to me.
[Dean sits down in front of him]
Dean Winchester: You don't stop bein' a soldier 'cause you got wounded in battle. Okay, no matter what shape you're in, bottom line is, you're *family*. And I don't know if you've noticed, but me an' Sam, we don't have much left. I can't do this without you. I can't. So don't you *dare* think about checkin' out. I don't want to hear that again.
Bobby Singer: [quietly] Okay.
Dean Winchester: Okay. Good.
Bobby Singer: Thanks. Now, we done feelin' our feeling's? 'Cause I'd like to get outta this room before we both start growin' lady parts.
Dean Winchester: Yeah, we're done. Let's go, Ironsides.
Bobby Singer: [sarcastic] Oh, *that* one's stickin', huh?
Older Dean Winchester: Oh! I'm having a heart attack!
Bobby Singer: No, you're not.
Older Dean Winchester: What is it?
Bobby Singer: Acid reflux. Guys your age can't digest certain foods. You're gonna need to put down that cheeseburger.
Bobby Singer: So, you wanna keep emoting or you wanna talk about this solving this little issue of yours? It's gotta be about the chips.
Older Dean Winchester: I slid 'em across, Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry.
Sam Winchester: What are you all thinking? Some kind of magic chips or something?
Bobby Singer: Definitely.
Sam Winchester: Remember what he chanted?
Bobby Singer: Yep, every word.
Sam Winchester: All right, then let's find out where he stashes his chips.
Older Dean Winchester: And steal me 50. Benjamin Button's me back into burger shape. What do you think?
Bobby Singer: I think you oughtta put some clothes on.