Hey there. This is my first attempt to Supernatural fic and this is a missing scene from "Simon Said". It's when Sam is standing there over the sink and what follows next. Please let me know what you think of this baby and also if there is anyone out there that would wanna be a beta reader for me, please dont hesitate to mail me. ( hemlunda2000yahoo.se) Just a warning though...I am swenglish LOL. Now let the show begin...

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. I and am not making any money on this either.

Vision and Pain

The gun exploded in his vision and red substance of blood splattered across the white ceiling. For a second Sam felt as if he was the one that was shot and he shut his eyes against the pain that ripped through his skull. Whimpering, he folded himself over the sink, afraid that he would get sick as nausea dwelled up inside him like a bucket of cold water. To his relief nothing of sorts happened and with a shaky hand he fumbled with the tap, rinsing off his face in slow motion.

The vision had hit him fast, unmerciful, leaving him fighting pain and angst.

They had been on the road, looking for another gig when Sam had to make a pit stop. After paying the filthy bathroom a visit he was on his way when a piercing pain suddenly shot through his head and the vision of a black man appeared in front of his cornea. As always when it came to these things, Sam felt angst crawl into his bones and he had to take a steady grip against the sink or he feared he would take a nose dive.

Now when the vision was finally over the cold water felt nice against his flushed face, but the picture of the killing was impossible to wipe out. The man had shot the store clerk before putting the pipe against his chin, ending his own life. Even though Sam felt exhaustion sweep all over him after the gruelling sight he knew that he better push back his own weakness. The visions always told him things and strangely it had always to do something with the demon whenever he felt them this strong.

People needed to be saved or he would have a blood bath on his hands.

Swallowing hard he ran his good hand, the one that wasn't in a cast, through his dark unruly hair. Looking into the mirror a pale face with dark almost bluish bags under his eyes stared back at him. The headache made it hard to think and he breathed hard while doing his best to stifle the nausea that burned in his gut.

Sam had no idea how long he'd been standing there, trying to cope, when the door to the restroom suddenly swung open and Dean burst in unaware of what was going on.

"Sam! Com' on. Zip it up. Let's hit the roa…." Dean growled, his sentence cut short when he saw his little brother standing there looking ready to pass out. It seemed as it took a couple of seconds for his brain to process what was happening. From the corner of his eye he saw how his brother scanned the restroom as if he'd expected an intruder to come from behind, attacking him. When nothing of those sorts happened he asked, "Bro? What?"

The younger hunter, who wasn't in any shape or form to leave the premises, didn't get a chance to open his mouth, not that Sam thought he dared to anyway, before his brother was by his side, squeezing his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "You all right?"

When Sam didn't respond Dean went on. "Sammy, what happened? You okay? Was it another vision?" His voice was clouded with worry.

He didn't even have the strength to correct the older hunter when his hate nickname came up, nor less have the strength to tell him that it was all just peachy. Instead he tried his best to shake off the surrealistic feeling that left him wondering if he was on the verge of loosing it.

"I'm ok..Okay," Sam mumbled, but to his demise found that his shaky voice did nothing to convince his brother that he everything was all right. Dean took a firmer grip around his shoulder, guiding him to sit down on the bathroom floor.

"You look as if you're about to pass out," he said. "You better sit down."

Feeling too weak to object he did as his older brother told him. Looking down at the dirty floor he found that it was both disgusting and filthy and there was no telling what kind of nasty insects were to be found hiding in the corners of the room. But then again, he'd slept in motels worse than this floor in the past.

Sam's shirt was drenched in cold sweat and there was a tingling sensation in his body that told him that he wasn't out of the woods yet. His headache made his vision blurry and that combined with that he tiled floor was swirling under him made the nausea almost unbearable. The worst part however was that he feared that was just the beginning of the visions since they always seemed to come several on a row.

"Just relax," Dean said softly as he hunched down beside him. His big brother stroked away a sticky strand of hair from his face. "Try to breathe through the nausea," he guided as Sam winced in pain.

Surprised over how well Dean seemed to know him, as if his feelings were on the outside, he closed his eyes leaning his head against the wall. His stomach churned dangerously but he did his best to keep it in check even though it was harder by the minute. To his relief Dean didn't talk much which Sam felt grateful for. In the past when the visions hunted him there had been too many questions which in the end left him drained. The silence that his brother comforted him with had him thinking that maybe he'd finally figured out that talking only made him feel worse. At least when the visions were bad.

"Try to take it easy." Dean didn't talk much which the younger man felt grateful for. In the past when his vision had hunted him there had been too many questions which left him totally drained and from the silence his brother comforted him with Dean had figured out that talking only made him feel worse. At least when the attack was at its worst.

Running his hand over his face in a tired gesture Sam felt safe enough to talk. "I…I had a vision."

"Figured out that much," Dean muttered. "What happened?"

Swallowing hard against the vision that suddenly appeared in front of Sam's eyes he talked.

"There was this man, black man that went inside a gun store and…and," He paused briefly as his stomach made a growling sound. Dean raised his eyebrow but didn't comment. When Sam had made sure that the nausea was quelled enough for him to talk, he went on. "He..he shot the clerk and then he…he shot himself."

Sam breathed hard. "There…there was blood everywhere." The nausea rose in his throat and now when he was certain that it wasn't as if but a when he was going to be sick, he tried to get up. To his discomfort his legs had other ideas and they didn't carry him.

Sam's relief was a fact when Dean must have sensed what was about to happen and suddenly an overfilled garbage can was put under his chin. Grimacing Sam did his best to fight the sick feeling and he swallowed hard several times. Even since he was a baby throwing up was one of the worst things he did and sitting here on the filthy floor, gagging into tissues made him feel like he wanted to die. Swallowing hard he fought the feeling for all it was worth and it wasn't until Dean whispered with a comforting tone that everything would be all right and that he shouldn't fight it, he let go of the control and when his stomach convulsed he found himself throwing up violently into the can.

Tears dwelled up in his eyes as the heaves wracked his already sore body. Just when he was certain he would pass out from sickness he felt his brother rubbing his back in a comforting way and he finally could relax.

"That's it. Let it all out and you'll feel better."

Sam had no idea how much time had passed but finally all what was left was dry heaves and even if they burned like hell he was happy that this was the signal that his ordeal for this time was finally over. This wasn't the first time they had ended up in a situation like this and he guessed that his big brother was a bit fed up with having to take care of him in small filthy restrooms, similar to this one.

'Sam is a tough cookie but this really seems to beat the crap out of him,' he'd heard Dean saying to his dad that time when he'd suffered from visions before. And Dean was right. The visions really left him exhausted and if it wasn't from the side effects it was from the sight itself.

"You think you're done soon?" Dean asked, interrupting him from his thoughts.

Jerking back from the sound Sam nodded weakly. "Mmmm…I think so." Spitting bile into the can he did his best to find his composure. To his relief the headache seemed to have lessened a bit and soon he felt well enough to sit up without support from his older brother.

"Good." Dean grinned even if the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I was getting fed up with having to sit here watching the germs crawl on the floor." He chuckled. "You know dude, why do you always have the habit of choosing filthy toilets like these to be sick in. I swear that next time you're getting these visions lets at least find a can where there is somewhere to sit. My legs are killing me." Standing up as to prove his point he stretched his legs.

Even though Sam guessed that this was his brother's way of making him feel better, which wasn't helping much according to his book, he didn't have the strength to throw back a sneaky comment and instead all that came out was a mumble. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Dean frowned. "It's not like I haven't seen you like this before." Handing his little brother a paper towel he sighed," And it's not like you can control those visions either, you know."

Sam nodded. Dean was right. These visions were not controllable and that was one of the things he disliked the most. Not knowing when they would hit or when he would end up sick as a dog was exhausting, but worst of all was the feeling that he didn't know if he was being able to save those people.

When he'd made sure that there was nothing left to throw up Sam made an attempt to stand. At first it was all wobbly and he felt afraid that he would bite the dust again, especially since it felt as if he was out on the sea. To his relief the dizziness abated and the churning sensation in his stomach lessened. The headache was still there but at least he could focus on his surroundings now and it wasn't as bad as it had been when the visions had attacked him. Strangely throwing up had made him feel better and even if this one of the things he'd disliked the most it left him with a more lucid feeling.

Dean eyed him in silence as Sam once more rinsed his face off with cold water and judging by the way he stood watching him the younger man wouldn't be surprised if he was just waiting for a chance to help him in case his legs would decide to give out. And this could very well be a possible scenario. Once he was done with the cleansing he supported himself against the wall with his good hand as he suddenly felt woozy.

Shit when would this spell go away?

"You doin' okay?"

"Yeah." The younger man closed his eyes a brief moment before looking up again. "I think I stood up too fast."

"You sure?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." Dean's frown however told him that he didn't believe him but to his relief didn't press the subject any further. Sam guessed that he was as fed up with the situation as he was and feeling as if they had wasted enough time at this place he straightened his posture. "Let's go. I'm ready to hit the road again."

To his relief Dean followed him out to the waiting Impala and soon they were on their way again. On to another gig.