A/N: I just started watching AHS: Asylum and I thought the scenario would be better with Sam and Dean joining in. Reviews are always appreciated. I do not own American Horror Story/Supernatural nor any of its characters.

NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT

"Dean. Check this out," Sam calls as he finds a rather interesting article on the internet.

"What is it?" Dean cranes his neck from the couch he's laying on, putting down the skin magazine he's reading to his lap.

"Well, apparently a corpse was found on a notoriously haunted abandoned sanatorium in-"

Dean scoffs, "What the hell was he doing in there? Didn't he learn anything from the movies? Jesus."

"Dude, let me finish," Sam replies. "...the body of Leo Morrison was discovered in the ruins of what used to be Briarcliff Manor in Massachusetts. Built in 1908, used to serve as a wartime hospital turned mental facility run by a catholic church, shut down in 1971." he continues. Sam scrolls through the photos of the crime scene. Leo's wife, Teresa, gave some useful information to the authorities and confirms that Leo's arm was apparently severed by an unknown force after they decided to 'consummate their marriage' in various haunted spots. Briarcliff was their last destination.

Dean gets up and makes his way behind Sam, reading the article along with him. "Think there something going on in that place?" asks Dean, wiping the corner of his lip with his sleeve. Sam shrugs, "Worth a shot,"

MASSACHUSETTS, NEW ENGLAND

The Impala pulls over on the side of a rural area. No signs of any civilians living within these parts, almost every exposed terrain is covered by either weed or wildflowers. The Briarcliff Psychiatric Institution stands with all its might amongst the unkempt greenery. Dean peers toward the main entrance, police lines strewn carelessly around the grand-looking main door. "Huh." he huffed. "No police cars? That's weird."

"I heard they're holding his wife in custody for questioning," clarifies Sam, his hair blown gently by the wind. It's all he could do but to flip his mane proudly like his inner self urges him to. If Dean as much sees a glimpse of him doing the flip, he will never hear the end of it.

"Well, let's see what we're up against," Dean walks over toward the entrance, effortlessly ripping off the yellow police lines from blocking his way. It's a ribbon, not a real cop, as he always says.

Sam pushes the stained glass doors and finds a large hall with a grand two-way staircase soaring all the way to the top story. The gorgeous architectural design still appeals after all these years being in ruins, the rays of late afternoon sunlight shines through the grand windows. Aside from the moldy walls and the six layers of dust, both boys can bet that this place was beautiful.

"Man, what a fancy-ass sanatorium. You sure this was a nuthouse and not a former Four Seasons reception hall?" asks Dean as he enthralls his visions and curiosity. Sam is still researching about the place on his phone, searching about people in charge of this institution before the 1971 shut-down.

"The sanatorium was run by Sister Jude. Some kind of a dictator back then, apparently. Used to run the joint in '64." he confides. "Apparently the head doctor of this place runs illegal medical experiments on patients without families, so that no one will be looking for them when they're inexplicably gone."

Sam looks up from his phone, finding his older brother already standing on the upper staircase. "You comin'?" Dean calls out from the second story.

Sam sighs, looking up to his eager older brother. As he makes his way toward the staircase, he noticed large stains of lighter colors on the wall in large squares. This place must have framed a lot of their credentials as one of the best mental institution in Massachusetts and after the shut-down, everything got taken down.

All except one.

He walks over to the only frame left hanging on the wall. The glass surface is severely damaged by water stains throughout the years of being drenched by rainwater from the leaky roof. Sam scrapes the mold away and reads the date on the left top corner of the framed newspaper article.
"...November 1970...," he murmurs.

The yellowing page has a headline in large black letters, with fading pictures of Briarcliff's exterior and proven sane inmates being released. 'BRIARCLIFF INSTITUTION EXPOSED', the title reads.

"Sammy? You there?" Dean's voice echoes through the walls. Sam realizes he keeps his brother hanging. "I'll be right up!" he shouts back as he unscrews the frame and carefully folds the fragile article and stores it in his pocket.

The sun goes down over the skies of Massachusetts while Sam and Dean continues to explore the ruins of Briarcliff. Their flashlights offer minimum illumination as they break into doors and pop open old archives of former inmates. All is well and practically mundane when Dean shines his flashlight to a door with a sign that says 'Administration' on it.

"Dude, didn't you say the place was run by an iron-fisted nun?" he twisted open the brittle brass doorknob as the musty scent of dust and decomposing paper greets Dean's senses.

Sam looks around, identifying a wardrobe on the side of the room with its locks broken. The cupboard door creaks open, revealing various canes displayed neatly. There are longer canes with a carved wood as a handle with its lash glaring at whoever dares to take it on, and there are shorter canes with a mean little lash, ready to shed blood on anyone's skin.

"Looks like we've found Sister Jude's old office," says Sam, tracing the handle of a cane with his fingertips. It still feels smooth and untouched, though he can bet that many inmates had suffered this corporal punishment of lashing to whoever dares to cross Sister Jude.

"Come again?"

"Apparently, she used to punish inmates by using these as lashes on their bare behinds," Sam confides.

Dean smiles mischievously, "Kinky,"

Sam rolls his eyes, "Find anything?"

Dean stops his giggling and takes out two name plates from his pockets, both plates are cracked and the letters are obscured by mold and layers of dust that's beyond repair.

Sam shines his flashlight at one of the names, 'ST. M RY EUNIC ' was all he could make out. "Sister...Mary Eunice?" he murmurs. "Who's she?" Dean asks, he didn't recall Sam mentioning a nun other than Jude.

"Guess we're gonna find out," Sam replies.