I had a little time on my hands so I transcribed it myself.
Just so you know and aren't disappointed, this isn't the entire episode. It's just from the moment Dean goes into the basement and looks for Sam until the end of the episode.
Dean: Sammy? Sam, you down here? SAM!
Dean spots Sam and backs away, bringing the gun up, startled.
D: Man! Answer me when I’m calling you! Are you all right?
Sam: Yeah. I’m fine.
D: You know that wasn’t me that called your cell, right?
S: Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here.
D: I think I know who. Doctor Ellicott. That’s what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven’t seen him, have you?
S: No. How do you know it was him?
D: Cause I found his log book. Apparently, he was experimenting on his patients, some awful stuff. It makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirins.
S: But it was the patients who rioted.
D: Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott.
Sam gives Dean a blank look.
D: Dr. Feelgood was working on some sorta like extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger, then they’d be cured of it. Instead, it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So, I’m thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing to the cop, to the kids in the seventies. Making them so angry they become homicidal. Come on. We gotta find his bones and torch ‘em.
S: How? The police never found his body.
D: Well, the logbook said he had some sorta hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he’d work on his patients so if I was a patient, I’d drag his ass down here and do a little work on him myself.
S: I don’t know, it sounds kinda –
D: Yeah. Exactly.
S: I told you I looked everywhere. I didn’t find a hidden room.
D: Well, that’s why they call it hidden. You hear that?
D: There’s a door here.
Sam wipes the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand as he raises the shotgun at Dean with the other.
Sam: Step away from the door.
Dean: Sam, put the gun down.
S: Is that an order?
D: Naw. It’s more of a friendly request.
S: Cause I’m getting pretty tired of taking your orders.
D: I knew it. Ellicott did something to you, didn’t he?
S: For once in your life just shut your mouth.
D: What’ya going to do, Sam? The gun’s filled with rock salt. It’s not going to kill me.
Without warning, Sam shoots Dean square in the chest.
Sam: Naw. But it’ll hurt like hell.
Dean comes to with a groan, obviously in pain. He coughs.
Dean: Sam! We gotta burn Ellicott’s bones and all this’ll be over and you’ll be back to normal.
Sam: I am normal. I’m just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Cause you’re following Dad’s orders like a good little soldier? Cause you always do what he says without question?
S: Are you that desperate for his approval?
D: This isn’t you talking, Sam.
S: That’s the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I’m not pathetic like you.
D: So what are you going to do, huh? Are you going to kill me?
S: You know what? I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We’re no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago.
D: Well then, here. Let me make it easier for you.
Dean pulls a pistol from beneath his shirt and holds it out to Sam.
Dean: Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!
Sam grabs the pistol and throws down the shotgun. With a grimace of anger, Sam grabs the gun with two hands and points it straight at Dean’s head.
Dean: Do you hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger.
A beat as the brothers stare at one another.
Dean: Do it!
Sam pulls the trigger and nothing happens. He pulls the trigger three more times before Dean grabs the gun and back hands Sam with his fist. Dean rises to his feet.
Dean: Man, I’m not gonna give you a loaded pistol.
He punches Sam in the face, knocking him unconscious.
Dean: Sorry, Sammy.
Dean finds Ellicott’s bones hidden in a storage table and salts and burns them as the ghost of Ellicott tries to perform a bit of rage therapy on Dean. He watches in horror as the bones burn and the ghost disappears. Sam stirs in the corner.
Dean: You’re not gonna try and kill me, are you?
D: Good. Because that would be awkward.
Kat, Gavin, Dean and Sam are standing outside of the asylum in the gray morning light.
Kat: Thanks, guys.
Gavin: Yeah, thanks.
Dean: No more haunted asylums, okay?
They both nod and walk back to their car.
Sam and Dean walk over to the Impala and pause before opening the doors.
Sam: Hey Dean? I’m sorry, man. I said some awful things back there.
Dean: You remember all that.
S: Yeah, it’s like I couldn’t control it. But I didn’t mean it. Any of it.
D: You didn’t huh?
S: No. Of course not. Do we need to talk about this?
D: No. No, I’m not really in the sharing, caring kind of mood. I wanna get some sleep.
They slide into the car and Dean fires up the Impala’s engine.
Motel room, late afternoon. Both boys are asleep. Dean’s phone rings.
Sam answers the phone.
He sits straight up in bed.