Summary: Don't worry. I'm going to make you all better. A missing scene from Asylum

A/N: This would be one of those plot bunnies that literally attacked me and made me sit down and write. A half hour later, this came out. About a half hour after that, it's been beta'ed and I'm posting. I HAD to write this fic. Asylum has always messed with my head, and this is a scene that I finally just HAD to write because we're all right to think about what the boys went through after the fact, but it bothers me that we ignore what happened during the episode. If the quotes from the ep aren't quite accurate, it's because I'm doing this from memory. geminigrl11 again was my trusty (and really) fast beta. She's exceptional. You can't trust most of what she says, but exceptional nonetheless :)

Disclaimer: I like to play around with these characters, but really, I know I don't own them. I'm not that disconnected from reality.

Esau Have I Hated

Sam has seen many ghosts, numerous demons, and countless monsters. Their garish appearance don't turn his stomach, don't give him nightmares like they should have. He's used to it. He's used to them.

When he sees the pale apparition behind, he gasps anyway.

It happens so fast. Pain is lancing through his head before he realizes what is happening.

Ellicott.

His ears buzz and his head seems to radiate with electricity. His senses are quickly deadened and his eyes search the ceiling blankly. He can no longer feel the fingers against his head, nestled in his hair, just the white-hot pain they shoot through his skull with unprecedented force.

"Don't worry. I'm going to make you all better."

The voice cuts through it all, buries itself in his brain with a sickening irony that numbs him.

Distantly, he feels his fingers loosen from the shotgun and it clatters harmlessly to the floor.

Suddenly, thinks to move, to break away, to stop this from happening--but it hurts, it burns, it pulses and throbs, and he can only hold his mouth open in the shock of it all.

He feels his world waning and darkness creeps in the edges. He trembles, hoping for mercy, but the grip on him merely intensifies.

"You have a lot of anger, Samuel."

He wonders how it knows his name but the increase of pain is so overwhelming that he can't think about it, can't think about anything.

"I can help you with that."

Somewhere inside of him his mind screams, this isn't right, this isn't how it is, isn't how it should be. He wants to fight, tries to fight...

His knees give way but the doctor follows him down, pulling his face close to Sam as Sam kneels before him. He can barely see, barely understand anything except the voice that sings into his head.

"You have to feel it. Feel it. Find its source."

It's reaching inside of him, sifting through his mind, eradicating everything else. Memories flash before him, then spiral away, drifting, drifting, drifting.

His arms feel heavy and limp.

"Good," the doctor smiles. "We're almost there."

Then Sam feels a jolt, a burst of energy that explodes with anger.

Dean.

There is whiteness, sheer whiteness and Sam can't feel his body.

Dean following Dad's orders. Dean getting Dad's approval. Dean doing everything all right. Dean in the center, the spotlight.

Dean getting the blessing and Sam standing aside.

"Ah, yes," someone says. "Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated."

Sam tries to gasp, but everything has left him now except the emotions he can't control. No...

"Jacob was a nasty brother, wasn't he?"

No.

"Embrace the anger. He got everything you ever wanted. You're the one who knows what to do, who's had ideas and plans, but he expects you to give it up. He expects you to fall in line. He's the good little soldier while you were always the odd man out."

Sam almost hears himself whimpering.

Dean besting him in sparring. Dean making fun of him. Dean sitting there, saying nothing, when he's told to never come back.

"He's used you your entire life. He never would have come except that he didn't want to do this alone. So you came. You came to find the father that loved him best."

Sam wants to deny, wants to protest.

The fingers tighten around his skull and he hears himself scream in agony. When he opens them again, he can no longer think, no longer comprehend.

"This is what we need to work on," the doctor coos and his fingers pull away.

Sam collapses without their support, his mind reeling, numb and empty from the intrusion.

It all fades then, all dwindles into a haze of anger and pain.

When he awakes, the pain is distant, throbbing in his subconscious.

It's then that he feels the anger.

He pushes himself up slowly, takes in his surroundings with new eyes. The room seems bigger now, less dark, less dreary. The air seems fresher.

"Sam?"

He recognizes the voice somehow though he's not quite sure.

"Sammy?"

Dean? It comes to him like a memory.

Dean following Dad's orders. Dean getting Dad's approval. Dean doing everything all right. Dean in the center, the spotlight.

Dean getting the blessing and Sam standing aside.

Dean besting him in sparring. Dean making fun of him. Dean sitting there, saying nothing, when he's told to never come back.

He clenches his teeth. Dean.

It's never been fair. None of it.

He sees the discarded shotgun. A smile creeps across his face.

But it can be fair. He can even the score. Esau may be hated, but that doesn't mean that he has to wind up empty-handed.

Sam grabs the gun and stands and goes to face his brother.