When Sam and Dean receive a distressing video message from Kevin Tran, they set about trying to uncover the Third Trial. The boys make a discovery that sends them to a casino in Colorado, to find a mysterious recluse who may be able to fill in the holes in Kevin's research. Meanwhile, Crowley is on a winning streak. Castiel tries to elude Naomi and the angels hunting him.
Fake Dean: Come on it's me. ... Now it's wet me.
Kevin: What's the point of the secret knock if you don't use it?
Fake Dean: We got the other half of the tablet.
Crowley: I was born to direct.
Dean: All right, here we go, John Winchester's cure-all kitchen sink stew. There you go, enough cayenne pepper in there to burn your lips off, just like dad used to make.
Dean: Do you want me to do the whole air plane thing with the spoon?
Dean: Trial? I wouldn't let you start a moped.
Castiel: You know, I remember when you first discovered it. Before you started brewing it, you just chew the berries. Folktale's true by the way, you learned it from the goats.
Perry: I swear to god Lance, the guy just disappeared.
Lance: Are you on the crack again, Perry?
Dean: They taught Word of God at Stanford?
Castiel: We were supposed to be their shepherds, not their murderers.
Naomi: You are the famous spanner in the works. Honestly, I think you came off the line with a crack in your chassis. You have never done what you were told, not completely. You don't even die right, do you?
Castiel: In the words of a good friend, bite me.
Sam: You rode a farty donkey.
Crowley: Naomi, darling, miss me?
Crowley: I'm the daring-est devil you've ever met, love.
Crowley: That's right Cas, I got me an angel on the payroll. It's that kind of universe these days.
Crowley: The angels weren't meant for the angels, and they weren't meant for you.
Crowley: So, my demons were too polite?
Crowley: Well I'll be a son of a whore.
Metatron: When you create stories, you become gods of tiny intricate dimensions unto themselves.
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