EvilDean: Dad knew who you really were. Good solider, nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?
Dean Winchester: Son of a bitch!
[shoves Evil Dean]
Dean Winchester: My father was an obsessed bastard!
[kick Evil Dean against the wall. Hits him with the sawed off shot gun and pins him with it]
Dean Winchester: All that crap he dumped on me about protecting Sam, that was his crap. He's the one that couldn't protect his family!
[hits Evil Dean again]
Dean Winchester: He's the one who let mom die! Who wasn't there for Sam, I always was! It wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me and I don't deserve to go to Hell!
[shoots Evil Dean, killing him instantly]
EvilDean: [wakes up with demon black eyes] You can't escape me, Dean. You're gonna die. And this. This is what you are going to become!
Dean Winchester: Dude, you were out. And makin' some serious happy noises. Who were you dreaming about?
Sam Winchester: What? No one. Nothing.
Dean Winchester: Come on, you can tell me. Angelina Jolie?
Sam Winchester: No.
Dean Winchester: Brad Pitt?
Sam Winchester: No!
Dean Winchester: What the hell, Bobby?
Bobby Singer: Don't yell at me, boy! I'm workin' my ass off here.
Dean Winchester: Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just - I'm tired. What's Bela got?
Bobby Singer: She's got nothin'.
Dean Winchester: Great! I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now!
Dean Winchester: Should we dim the lights and synch up Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon?
Sam Winchester: Why?
Dean Winchester: What did you DO during college?
Dean Winchester: I've been doin' some thinkin'. And... the thing is... I don't want to die. I don't want to go to Hell.
Sam Winchester: Yeah. We'll... find a way to save you.
Dean Winchester: Okay, good...
Dean Winchester: Silene Capinses. Which, of course, means... absolutely nothing to me.
Sam Winchester: Dean, are you sure you don't want me to drive? You seem a little... caffeinated.
Dean Winchester: Thanks for the newsflash, Edison!
Dean Winchester: Pack your crap.
Sam Winchester: Why? Where are we going?
Dean Winchester: We're gonna go hunt the bitch down.
Sam Winchester: So what's Bobby doing in Pittsburgh?
Dean Winchester: Unless he's taking an extremely lame vacation...
Sam Winchester: One problem though. We're fresh out of African Dream Root. So, unless you know someone who can score some...
Dean Winchester: [His heart sinks as realization dawns] Crap.
Sam Winchester: What?
Dean Winchester: Bela.
Sam Winchester: [Surprised] Bela?
[Now his heart sinks... ]
Sam Winchester: Crap. You're actually suggesting we ask her for a favor?
Dean Winchester: I'm feelin' dirty just thinkin' about it, but yeah.
Sam Winchester: Hey, when did it start raining?
Dean Winchester: [Opens the curtain] When did it start raining upside down?
Dean Winchester: [Grabs Bobby by the shirt front, desperate to get through to him] Listen to me. You gotta snap outta this now. You gotta *snap* outta this *now*! You're not gonna die. I'm not gonna *let* you die. You're like a *father* to me. You gotta believe me. *Please!*
Sam Winchester: How'd he get in there in the first place? Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair or DNA or something?
Dean Winchester: Yeah.
Bobby Singer: [With deep regret and disappointment in himself] Yeah. Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it. Dumbest friggin' thing.
Sam Winchester: [Resignation sinks in as he remembers he also drank a beer with him] Ah, I don't know. It wasn't that dumb...
Sam Winchester: Dean, you didn't.
Dean Winchester: [Knows he's in deep trouble. Softly] I was thirsty.
Sam Winchester: [They are about to drink the tea made of African Dream Root] Wait, wait! Wait. Can't forget this.
[He removes a small envelope from his pocket, removes something from it]
Sam Winchester: Here.
[He puts some in Dean's hand]
Dean Winchester: What the hell is that?
Sam Winchester: Bobby's hair.
Dean Winchester: We have to drink Bobby's hair?
Sam Winchester: [He puts some in his own drink] That's how you control whose dream you're entering. You gotta... drink some of their, uh...
[He swallows in distaste]
Sam Winchester: some of their body.
Dean Winchester: [Stares at his hand, then shrugs] Well. Guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body.